A charismatic voice, a contradictory man

August 22, 2004

Dylan Thomas: A New Life
By Andrew Lycett
Overlook, 434 pp., illustrated, $35

The audience entering Cambridge's Brattle Theatre in the winter of 1951 may well have had only cursory acquaintance with the work of the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas. Three years later, when he gave a virtuoso solo performance of his play for voices, ''Under Milk Wood," at the Fogg Museum, he was one of the best-known poets of his generation, a colossus in a scene including Eliot and Auden.

Thomas's literary reputation no longer seems as durable as it did in the immediate postwar years. Still, it has survived and deservedly so; he wrote eight or nine poems that seem destined to last. As with many romantic poets, his best work flowered early. Choosing him as a subject, however, the British biographer Andrew Lycett accepted a challenge in overabundance. Gielgud, Guinness, and Emlyn Williams played Thomas onstage; Sidney Michaels wrote a successful Broadway play; Thomas is associated with New Directions Press and Caedmon (''A Child's Christmas in Wales") Records; the Sitwells' ''18 Poems" was only one of the ''lit mags" that influenced the poetry. Is there room for more? As is turned out there was. Perhaps the most interesting aspect is the biographer's capacity to find fresh meaning in a life that presumably has yielded every necessary interpretation.

Lycett's Thomas exists on two levels: the ongoing saga of the man and the dramatic tensions of his myth. For Americans the role assumed by John Malcolm Brinnin, a poet and critic, was paramount; he served as chief cook and bottle washer aboard an enterprise threatening to sink at any moment. Until I read Lycett I never suspected Brinnin had a comic side; but if one sees him as a serious guardian of the poet caught in a production of ''Noises Off," one gets the idea. Two quarreling factions claimed the baked funeral meats, two young women shared the leftovers of romance, and anyone who went to a party with Thomas might find him stealing the silver. Alcoholic and ill, he managed to lurch from one day to the next, but it required grit.

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