A book full of surprises and delights, On the Air with Dylan Thomas presents all of Thomas’s BBC radio work (with the exception of “Under Milk Wood”, which is available separately). Thomas served his broadcasting apprenticeship as a teenager with his friend Daniel Jones. They set up a “station” between the second and first floors of the Jones’ home “Warmley,” dubbing it the Warmley Broadcasting Company. Then, starting in 1943 and continuing to his death, Thomas often sat behind a BBC microphone, variously giving radio talks, introducing poetry selections, participating in round-table discussions, reading dramas, essays, and poems. His was a glorious voice and he had a special case and inventiveness on the air.
Dylan Marlais Thomas (1914-1953) was a Welsh poet who wrote in English. Many regard him as one of the 20th century's most influential poets.
In addition to poetry, Thomas wrote short stories and scripts for film and radio, with the latter frequently performed by Thomas himself. His public readings, particularly in America, won him great acclaim; his booming, at times, ostentatious voice, with a subtle Welsh lilt, became almost as famous as his works. His best-known work includes the "play for voices" Under Milk Wood and the celebrated villanelle for his dying father, "Do not go gentle into that good night." Appreciative critics have also noted the superb craftsmanship and compression of poems such as "In my craft or sullen art" and the rhapsodic lyricism of Fern Hill.
Dylan Thomas was not only a wordsmith, but a performer. Even Richard Burton was impressed by the way he delivered his poetry and prose. He seemed to be more of a gut bucket blues shouter than a poet. Check out his reading of 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night' on YouTube, for a sample. The Broadcasts are not focused on poetry, although poetry is mentioned. As a sampler of his prose work, it is worth digging up. When Dylan is on a roll, prose lovers are in for a ride. Here's a sample: "Fish-frailed, netbagged, umbrella’d, pixie-capped, fur-shoed, blue-nosed, puce-lipped, blinkered like drayhorses, scarved,mittened, galoshed,wearing everything but the cat’s blanket, crushes of shopping-women crunched in the little Lapland of the once grey drab street, blew and queued and yearned for hot tea, as I began my search through Swansea town cold and early on that wicked February morning." Unfortunately, it's not all like this.