La personalità di Dylan Thomas emerge in tutti i suoi risvolti romanzeschi dalle pagine di questa a tratti comica, spesso disperata, sempre eccessiva. Paul Ferris cattura l'essenza di Dylan Thomas con grazia e precisione, raccontando la tragedia di un uomo brillante ma tormentato, disastrosamente ossessionato dalla sua 'vocazione di poeta', spesso il peggior nemico di se stesso.
Paul Ferris's biography of Thomas, revised since the original publication first appeared in 1977, is revealing, poignant, funny and an excellent insight into the life and times of the 'Rimbaud of Cwmdonkin'. I've loved Dylan Thomas's work for very many years but known next to nothing of the man and his life. Ferris has done a great job. His treatment of the poet's life and work is sympathetic and well balanced, as is the authors 'Dylan Thomas at the BBC' a two cd collection from the BBC archives, which is written and introduced by Ferris. Thomas certainly built up the myths and legends in his short lifetime and this book, superbly researched, sifts the facts from the fictions. However, the bards death in New York in 1953 remains somewhat mysterious. Why was he injected with morphine in his hotel room at the Chelsea Hotel? Why was he being tailed by a private eye, hired by Time Life? Why did it take so long to get him into St.Vincents hospital? Why was the post mortem a sham? We'll never know as the answers have followed Dylan to the grave.
I am not much a biography reader but I have always been fascinated by Dylan Thomas. His life reads as a novel. It shows the facets of him as a poet, artist and tortured soul. It seems that this is the way of all who walk down that road. I love the fact that he read Shakespeare to his children and that enabled him to read better. I have started to read poetry to my own children. The cadences, rhythms and rhymes soothe children and they love the repetition. It was a pretty good read.
Excellent for the most part - even-handed, calm and judicious. Only complaint would be almost total lack of historical and social context in favour of over-quotation from almost identical letters to his wife (Ferris also edited the collected letters, and it shows).
Some very good tidbits in this book, though the later sections are overly devoted to the poet's drinking and financial problems. Would have appreciated more insight into Thomas' writing and the poetry itself.
A fascinating biography of a fascinating man. The book seems extensively researched and really effectively draws the character of Thomas. It feels as though it is more than a recounting of the events of his life - and what a fascinating life to recount. I have never heard of anyone more self-destructive. His life switched from intensely funny to intensely sad moment. It felt like watching a man slowly destroy himself, often at the expense of others around him. I haven't read any biographies really so I don't know if this is normal, but I feel as though I understand this person I never will meet. Aside from his life story, Paul Ferris also has some intersting insights on Thomas's writing. Ferris has section of exploring Thomas's themes and preoccupations, as well as his process of writing. All of which are equally as interesting as the poet's life.
Constantin FitzGibbon, um dos primeiros escritores a ser contactado para escrever uma biografia independente do Dylan Thomas (já existia uma mas era uma biografia "autorizada" e como tal pouco fidedigna), hesitou muito antes de aceitar a incumbência dizendo que Thomas "não fez nada além de escrever poemas e fazer rir as pessoas" e que a sua história era só "poesia, farsa e álcool". De algum modo tem razão. A vida de Dylan Thomas não foi, a acreditar nesta biografia, nem particularmente agradável nem interessante, E como é óbvio a biografia também não é nem uma coisa nem outra.
The problem with reading about the life of someone you admire but know little about is the possible outcome. I was looking forward to reading about the Welsh hell-raiser and his pavonine adventures. Instead, Thomas is portrayed as a rather melancholic and pathetic figure rather than a charismatic minstrel titan of the written word. Still, it has insired me to Dylanise some of my own writing, hence:
Beyond the beach, the bleach-blue beyond ripples in sunlit, drip-fed waves. Malthouse picked up a flat-backed, black flat stone and rubbed it in his palm while the white-flecked waves roll moribundly over his sun-braised, tan-kissed toes.
Early on in this book, Paul Ferris exposes the weakness both of himself as a biographer and Dylan Thomas as a poet. He says there are two views about Thomas and religion: one that he was an ‘essentially religious’ poet, the other that he only used religion only as stage-dressing; but that only the latter view is ‘feasible’. Well, you’ve just told us there are two views so they must both be feasible! Perhaps he means that the first is not *tenable*, but he doesn’t explain why. A glib and perfunctory judgement on a crucial question, you assume he will return to it at some point; but no, that’s it. It’s typical of a book which fails to get to the heart of what Thomas was about.
Actually there is a third possible view, surely nearer the truth than either of the others: that although not an orthodox, committed Christian, spirituality was important to him and he had a faith which was definite though undefined. If Ferris’ only reason for dismissing this possibility is, as it seems, the drinking and womanising, he is making an extraordinarily shallow and naïve judgement. There are poems Thomas wrote – notably And Death Shall Have No Dominion, one of his own favourites, and No Man Believes – in which religion is, inescapably, not stage dressing but the central subject. If No Man Believes is not a serious examination of the issue of faith by one who, in spite of his doubts, still believes (and of course if you don’t believe you can’t doubt), then nothing Thomas wrote means anything at all.
And there’s the rub: perhaps it didn’t. One thing the book makes clear is that Thomas was extremely uncomfortable trying to explain or account for his poetry, and that he frequently used words without having any particular idea attached to them. Some people may think this is a valid way of writing poetry, even a higher way than writing ‘from ideas to words’ (as the alternative approach is rather disparagingly described). I don’t, and actually I think the true poet works neither ‘from words’ nor ‘towards words’, but conceives idea and words together. Poetry with no meaning is, literally, nonsense.
Thomas seems to have decided he was a poet before he had worked out whether he could really do it or not. He had the ability to attract peoples’ attention, both in his eccentric, exuberant person, and by striking, memorable phrases in his poems; but it was easy for him to hide a lack of real content by these fireworks. His work is only really worthwhile when some overall meaning, at least, is discernible behind them (and actually, No Man Believes is one of the most coherent and unevasive of his pieces).
So though mildly entertaining at times, particularly in describing the famous American tours (though they don’t sound as Bacchanalian as they have sometimes been portrayed), this is a book which I not only didn’t much enjoy but which unintentionally left me with diminished respect for its subject.
🏴 The wild Welsh poet who was always at odds with the churches yet wrote a collection of poems about Jesus. Brilliant writing that strikes sharply into the imagination and spirit. Many of his poems are simply immortal.
🏴Excluded from internment in Westminster Abbey until President Jimmy Carter asked that his remains be placed there and that he’d pray for Thomas.
🏴 Recommended: Fern Hill, Poem in October, We Lying by Sea Sand, A Child’s Christmas in Wales, A Refusal to Mourn the Death by Fire, And Death Shall Have No Dominion, Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night, Especially When the October Wind, Clown in the Moon, Poem on my Birthday.
This book is the first one I remember working on when I started in publishing 46 years ago. In fact, the copy I’ve just read is an uncorrected book proof dating from then, which I rescued from my parents’ house when my mum died recently. My job, as a trainee production assistant, was to size up the pictures and, looking at this proof, I did a pretty bad job of it (my errors were corrected before publication, of course). Anyway, finally reading the book after all this time, I find what was once considered to be the “definitive” biography of Thomas to be a vivid portrait of the artist as a young drunk.
Quite interesting, but very dated. Ferris makes quite a few mentions of Caitlin going to hospital to have 'her' baby as if Dylan Thomas had nothing to do with the pregnancy. There's no discussion or analysis of what having children meant to Thomas. Allowing for the fact that Ferris points out that many tales of Dylan Thomas's escapades are untrue, he comes across as an unlikable man - a real drain on anyone who befriended him. I was surprised at how little Ferris discusses Under Milk Wood. Not a bad biography but definitely left me wanting to find out more.
I addition to writing the most provocative poetry of the twentieth century Dylan Thomas wrote the script of his own life: drunk half the day or more, no job, demanding others to pick up his bills, marrying a like-minded romantic and lush and dying of alcohol poisoning at the Chelsea Hotel in New York City. This superb biography is the favorite of everyone from Bob Dylan to Jimmy Carter.
This book was okay, but kind of boring. I think I prefer just reading his poetry to learning all the intricate (and frequently depressing) details of his life.
I really enjoyed this book about Dylan Thomas. I have always been a huge fan of his work, but this book did a wonderful job of bringing his life to light.
a very difficult read about a person who was not a very good man and i wonder if he was a good poet. he was more interested in women and drinking than poetry.