The Secret Lives of Ordinary People

In a world often consumed by the superficial, the profound depth of human experience can sometimes be overlooked. This very notion lies at the heart of a powerful discussion between Shiloh Brooks, a professor and CEO, and David Aranovich, an award-winning journalist and author, as they delve into the transformative impact of Dylan Thomas’s iconic 1954 radio play, Under Milkwood. Originally commissioned by the BBC, this literary masterpiece captures a single day in the fictional Welsh village of Llareggub, inviting listeners and readers into the most intimate corners of its inhabitants' secret lives.

Key Takeaways

• Under Milkwood is a groundbreaking radio play that offers an unparalleled, intimate glimpse into the secret lives of a small Welsh fishing village.
• The play's enduring power is rooted in its rich, poetic language, which actively combats flatness and cliche, inviting listeners to deeper contemplation.
• It serves as a profound mirror, reflecting universal human desires, flaws, and unspoken thoughts, thereby fostering empathy rather than judgment.
• For a truly immersive experience, engaging with the original audio recording, particularly featuring Richard Burton, is highly recommended before or alongside reading the text.
• Dylan Thomas masterfully elevates the ordinary to the extraordinary, compelling audiences to reflect on their own interiority and the complex inner worlds of those around them.

The Genesis and Unique Medium of Under Milkwood

David Aranovich's lifelong connection with Under Milkwood began not with a book, but with a radiogram in his North London childhood home. The 1954 BBC production, featuring the legendary Richard Burton, became "completely part of my internal wiring," shaping his understanding of language and human nature from an early age. This origin underscores the play's unique nature as a work designed to be heard rather than seen.

Dylan Thomas, widely considered the greatest living poet in the United Kingdom at the time, was commissioned to write the play in 1946. Tragically, he died at the age of 39 in 1953, shortly after its first performance in New York, before witnessing its full impact. The original BBC recording, with Burton's iconic opening line, "To begin at the beginning," remains the definitive way many encounter the work.

Aranovich strongly advocates for this auditory experience:

Go out find the recording of Under Milkwood recorded by Richard Burton... Listen to that and then whenever you pick up the book... the voices will be in your ears.

This approach allows the listener to absorb the musicality and rhythmic quality inherent in Thomas's verse, aspects crucial to the play's design as an auditory artifact.

A Day in Llareggub: Peering into Secret Lives

At its essence, Under Milkwood encapsulates a single day in the fictional, sleepy Welsh fishing village of Llareggub. The audience is granted a singular privilege: to "eavesdrop" on the townsfolk, seeing and hearing things that they alone are privy to.

The play unfolds from the pre-dawn dreams of the villagers, through their waking hours and daily interactions, to their return to sleep at dusk. From the postman to the draper, the narrative brings to life a rich tapestry of characters, each with their own idiosyncrasies, longings, and unspoken thoughts. Captain Cat, the blind former sea captain who converses with the ghosts of his past loves, is a particularly poignant and recurring figure, embodying the play's blend of the ordinary and the fantastical.

The Echo of Wales

The essence of Wales, with its distinct language and cultural lilt, is deeply embedded in the play. Aranovich notes the "sonority" of the Welsh language, which permeated his childhood experience of the play. While Dylan Thomas himself didn't speak with a strong Welsh accent, he was steeped in its aural tradition. Wales, a country with a rich bardic history, has often been historically overlooked, unlike its Scottish neighbors. Thomas, however, celebrates this "romantic part of the United Kingdom" by imbuing his characters' voices with the cadences and particularities of Welsh English, even playing with the perception of Welsh people as "backwoods" or "country bumpkin" types.

The Universal Human Condition: Beyond Judgment

A central question arises: Is Thomas mocking these characters, or ennobling them? The consensus points to the latter. Under Milkwood is not a comedy, nor a tragedy in the traditional sense, but a profound exploration of universal human nature.

We are neither bad nor good here under Milkwood.

This line, spoken by the Reverend Eli Jenkins, encapsulates the play's empathetic stance. The villagers are "ordinary folk," neither to be looked down upon nor idealized. Their fears, loves, lusts, occasional murderous intentions, hideous domestic situations, and profound longings are all laid bare. The play highlights the intricate relationship between the unconscious and conscious mind, revealing how dreams color daily activities and vice versa.

A Mirror to Our Secret Selves

The brilliance of Thomas lies in his ability to make the audience identify with every character, no matter how seemingly eccentric or flawed. We are encouraged to see ourselves in the murderous husband, the prim wife, the drunken lover, and the dreamer. The play functions as a "confessional box," inviting us under the premise of observing bizarre souls, but ultimately showing us our own.

The classic scene between Mr. and Mrs. Pew exemplifies this depth. Mr. Pew, reading "Lives of the Great Poisoners," secretly harbors dark fantasies about his wife. The narrator grants us access to his vivid, murderous imaginings:

Alone in the hissing laboratory of his wishes, Mr. Pew minces among bad vats and gerobams...

This passage, both hilarious and terrifying, resonates because, as Aranovich and Brooks discuss, who doesn't possess a "hissing laboratory of wishes" they'd never express? The play forces an honest self-reflection, making one realize that the outrageous thoughts of these characters are not so far removed from one's own unspoken interiority.

The Power of Language: Battling Flatness and Cliche

David Aranovich aptly describes Under Milkwood as a remedy for a world steeped in flatness and cliche. Thomas's language is a powerful antidote, working "against flatness and cliche" to illuminate and deepen our understanding of everyday life. Unlike commonplace phrases that offer only surface-level understanding, Thomas's words "open up doors," inviting contemplation behind each expression.

A prime example is the opening description of the sea:

...down to the sloe black slow black crow black fishing boat bobbing sea.

This masterclass in wordplay features "sloe black" (referring to the dark, bluish-purple sloe berry), "slow black" (describing the unhurried movement of the dark sea), and "crow black" (a common descriptor for intense darkness). Such rich, layered language forces the mind to engage, transforming a simple description into a vibrant, multi-sensory experience. It challenges "a kind of nihilistic, rote everyday way of seeing," shaking the audience out of complacency and revealing the "vast variety and vitality" of human existence.

Empathy and the Humanizing Spirit

The most profound impact of Under Milkwood, as articulated by the discussion, is its ability to cultivate empathy and deter judgment. By inviting us to see people in such intricate detail, the play attaches us to them, making it impossible to rely on superficial judgments. It dismantles the inclination to "write people off" or engage in "scapegoating," which Aranovich describes as "the grandest cliché of all" because it stops us from thinking about our own humanity and the humanity of others.

Unlike reality TV, which often encourages detached observation and judgment, Under Milkwood draws us into the interiority of others' lives, reminding us that we, too, possess complex inner worlds. This "genuine spirit of the humanities" encourages us to see ourselves "down in the trenches" with all humanity, recognizing that the "ordinary people" of Llareggub embody universal longings for love, friendship, stature, and distinction.

Conclusion

Dylan Thomas's Under Milkwood is far more than a radio play; it is a timeless meditation on human nature, a linguistic triumph, and a profound call to empathy. By inviting us to eavesdrop on the secret lives of a small Welsh town, Thomas masterfully holds up a mirror to our own souls, revealing the universal desires, flaws, and hidden thoughts that connect us all.

Its rich, poetic language not only combats the flatness of cliche but also expands our capacity for understanding and appreciation of the world's inherent vitality. As David Aranovich aptly concludes, the play fosters a deep understanding that the seemingly foreign thoughts and outrageous desires of others are, in essence, our own. Under Milkwood remains an extraordinary gift, a literary medicine that, through its depth and beauty, reminds us of the intricate, shared tapestry of the human spirit.