Post by demonik on Jul 18, 2007 6:22:26 GMT -5
A. J. Alan has, with the coming of the broadcasting age, reintroduced the art of telling tales instead of writing them. his stories are taken down in shorthand as he stands at the microphone. The Diver, taken from his volume of short stories Good Evening Everyone is a good example of the new technique developed out of the contact between the story-teller and his invisible audience
J. M. Parrish & John R. Crossland introducing The Mammoth Book Of Thrillers, Ghosts and Mysteries, Odhams Press, 1936.
Most musicians will tell you that the secret of improvisation is to have a pretty clear idea of what you're going to play and then run with it as opposed to knocking something out off the top of your head and hoping the audience thinks you're the second coming of John Coltrane. I've a feeling 'A. J. Alan' (Leslie H. Lambert, 1883 - 1940) used this technique in broadcasting his amiable, chatty and sometimes even mildly chilling stories for radio during the 'twenties. E. F. Bleiler quotes Kenelm Ross - editor of The Best Of A. J. Alan - as crediting Lambert with originating the BBC accent, "a class-conscious, mincing travesty of correct diction", and he reputedly insisted on wearing full evening dress for his recitals.
Alan was a fixture of the Mammoth anthologies published by Odhams, Daily Express & Co., during the 'thirties. Many were collected as Good Evening Everyone, (Hutchinson, 1928), A. J. Alan's Second Book (Hutchinson,1933) and The Best of A. J. Alan (Richards, 1954) none of which I've ever seen a copy of.
H2, etc: Alan's cat goes missing after dark and he goes to fetch it. He finds Moggles in a neighbour's garden and through the window of a downstairs room he sees a man sat in a chair with a bag tied over his head and a tube feeding into his mouth. Having rescued the old timer he remonstrates with his daughters who are blase about the incident. They explain that there's nothing to worry about, Dad suffers from melancholy and is always trying to gas himself which is why they always turn the tap off before retiring ....
One of his weaker efforts, or so it seems to me. There are so many ways this could have ended (the nastier the better being my preference), but I guess he didn't want to freak out the listeners.
The Dream: Alan relates the minutiae of his recurring dream in which he enters a room where some kind of get-together is taking place. All but one of those gathered are men. The single woman, evidently the hostess, is an elegant beauty and each time she’s engaged in conversation with a different bloke. Alan notes that whoever the lucky fellow is on a given night, he never reappears in the subsequent installments. And then there’s the empty chair. It’s always offered to him but he refuses, preferring to stand (he has his reasons). Comes the night he recognises one of the guests …
My Adventure In Norfolk: Alan checks on a bungalow that he and his wife will be renting as their holiday home come August. Being February (Mrs. Alan believes in planning ahead), it’s snowbound. During the night a young woman’s car breaks down outside and he gallantly goes to her assistance. Rather than being grateful the girl is surly and uncommunicative, even when a local truck driver stops and agrees to give her a lift to Norwich. Alan pushes the car into the garage … and notices a dead man propped up by the window. The next morning both car and corpse have vanished and our man is in for a surprise when he reports the incident to the police.
The Diver: Alan frequents a club with its own swimming pool and there he witnesses a man showing off on the diving board. The fellow has a dreadful scar down his chest but his most notable oddity that when he jumps in the water, there's barely a splash ... and he doesn't reappear. Month's later, having witnessed the spectral swimmer repeat his party piece three times, Alan is introduced to Mr. Melhuish ("with one exception, the most offensive blighter I've ever come across") who is travelling to Mexico with Alan's friends, the Pringles. He is the original of the ghostly diver down to the scar - he took a belly-flop onto a take at the bottom of a river - and, fearing that dark forces are at work, Alan does his best to talk the couple out of accompanying Melhuish.
J. M. Parrish & John R. Crossland introducing The Mammoth Book Of Thrillers, Ghosts and Mysteries, Odhams Press, 1936.
Most musicians will tell you that the secret of improvisation is to have a pretty clear idea of what you're going to play and then run with it as opposed to knocking something out off the top of your head and hoping the audience thinks you're the second coming of John Coltrane. I've a feeling 'A. J. Alan' (Leslie H. Lambert, 1883 - 1940) used this technique in broadcasting his amiable, chatty and sometimes even mildly chilling stories for radio during the 'twenties. E. F. Bleiler quotes Kenelm Ross - editor of The Best Of A. J. Alan - as crediting Lambert with originating the BBC accent, "a class-conscious, mincing travesty of correct diction", and he reputedly insisted on wearing full evening dress for his recitals.
Alan was a fixture of the Mammoth anthologies published by Odhams, Daily Express & Co., during the 'thirties. Many were collected as Good Evening Everyone, (Hutchinson, 1928), A. J. Alan's Second Book (Hutchinson,1933) and The Best of A. J. Alan (Richards, 1954) none of which I've ever seen a copy of.
H2, etc: Alan's cat goes missing after dark and he goes to fetch it. He finds Moggles in a neighbour's garden and through the window of a downstairs room he sees a man sat in a chair with a bag tied over his head and a tube feeding into his mouth. Having rescued the old timer he remonstrates with his daughters who are blase about the incident. They explain that there's nothing to worry about, Dad suffers from melancholy and is always trying to gas himself which is why they always turn the tap off before retiring ....
One of his weaker efforts, or so it seems to me. There are so many ways this could have ended (the nastier the better being my preference), but I guess he didn't want to freak out the listeners.
The Dream: Alan relates the minutiae of his recurring dream in which he enters a room where some kind of get-together is taking place. All but one of those gathered are men. The single woman, evidently the hostess, is an elegant beauty and each time she’s engaged in conversation with a different bloke. Alan notes that whoever the lucky fellow is on a given night, he never reappears in the subsequent installments. And then there’s the empty chair. It’s always offered to him but he refuses, preferring to stand (he has his reasons). Comes the night he recognises one of the guests …
My Adventure In Norfolk: Alan checks on a bungalow that he and his wife will be renting as their holiday home come August. Being February (Mrs. Alan believes in planning ahead), it’s snowbound. During the night a young woman’s car breaks down outside and he gallantly goes to her assistance. Rather than being grateful the girl is surly and uncommunicative, even when a local truck driver stops and agrees to give her a lift to Norwich. Alan pushes the car into the garage … and notices a dead man propped up by the window. The next morning both car and corpse have vanished and our man is in for a surprise when he reports the incident to the police.
The Diver: Alan frequents a club with its own swimming pool and there he witnesses a man showing off on the diving board. The fellow has a dreadful scar down his chest but his most notable oddity that when he jumps in the water, there's barely a splash ... and he doesn't reappear. Month's later, having witnessed the spectral swimmer repeat his party piece three times, Alan is introduced to Mr. Melhuish ("with one exception, the most offensive blighter I've ever come across") who is travelling to Mexico with Alan's friends, the Pringles. He is the original of the ghostly diver down to the scar - he took a belly-flop onto a take at the bottom of a river - and, fearing that dark forces are at work, Alan does his best to talk the couple out of accompanying Melhuish.