Classics Narrated

Anticipating the concept of "frenemy," Poe gives us vanity, self-righteousness, and terrible cruelty in revenge, as stone-hearted Montresor lures credulous Fortunato to his doom.

NOT recommended for children; Edgar Allan Poe's tale of increasing evil, alcoholism, and murder may haunt the listener as the cat haunted the protagonist.

Moving from Adventures of Tom Sawyer, to one of the more appalling stories of Edgar Allan Poe calls for some word of explanation. First, be assured I have little or nothing in common with the protagonist. I loved my little black cat, and stumbled over this story waiting for software to download. It was her memory that drew me to it. I would never raise my hand to my spouse, and am rigorously moderate about alcohol.

Why, then, offer this?

First, it moved me with the everyday quality of the protagonist's moral decay, and seemed to prefigure such characters as Highsmith's Ripley, or Lindsay's Dexter Morgan. Also, at least two of Poe's stories, The Tell-Tale Heart, and The Cask of Amontillado have been widely anthologized, but this was new to me, and very disturbing.

Also, I hope to keep listener interest by varying the type and tenor of these twice-told tales, to help keep them alive: some of them smiling in memory, and others scratching softly at a door we don't want to open.

Unable to get Bartleby to leave his office, the owner of the law firm moves the office instead. Bartleby remains in the old building until removed by the landlord, and is sent to the Tombs, a Manhattan prison.

A phlegmatic lawyer who gets more business hires an additional copyist, or scrivener, in mid-19th century Manhattan. At first, work goes well, but Bartleby's quirks grow, upsetting the lawyer and his temperamental staff.

This selection seems sensitive, possibly painful to some. Even though this may languish in obscurity, I want to articulate the reasons why it seemed worthwhile to do this, along with the almost equally compelling reasons for leaving it aside. Why not do it? Racism. This choice could be construed as degrading to black people, a reminder of oppression, subjugation, the southern (or American) system from the end of Reconstruction through at least the Civil Rights era that was paternalistic at best, and nothing short of state terrorism at worst (lynching, the Klan, segregation, poll tax, literacy tests.) However, these two stories are iconic; for an American to go through life not knowing the story of the Tar-Baby and the Briar Patch is miserable ignorance. In themselves, they show humor, intelligence, and the fun of turnabout. The frame story is another matter. Old black Uncle Remus tells these tales to a blond seven-year old boy, whose mother is “Miss Sally.? The boy is the child of the farm or plantation’s owner. Remus, as far as I can tell from quick reading, lives alone; no wife, no children, no close friends. This is Uncle Tom, of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin? all over again; sexless, dependent, there to serve the white folks, including their children. He is a convenient device for the transcriber, Joel Chandler Harris, to set down the stories that helped pass the time and lift the burden of care for the black folks. To me, this assumption that black peoples’ lives were meaningful and valuable only as far as they figured in those of white folks is the most pernicious aspect of the books. Mr. Harris may have felt guilt over this work. His biography notes his shyness and diffidence, not to be wondered at for a man who made his fortune exploiting oral tradition of the oppressed. Even the name of his storyteller, Remus, might refer to that. In the legend of Rome’s foundation, Remus was the other twin brother, supplanted, possibly murdered, by his brother Romulus. Even though Mr. Harris tried to identify with Harriet Beecher Stowe, weirdly calling Uncle Tom’s Cabin a “wonderful defense of slavery as it existed in the South,? giving his title character the name of the forgotten co-founder of Rome may have expressed recognition of the historic and continuing exploitation and oppression of black people. So, it’s for the folk tradition that I record this, and my belief that despite their compromised origin, these two stories at least are vital, and must be remembered. For my own imagination, I like to think of Uncle Remus telling these stories to his own folks, black as well as white. Of course, as authors like Faulkner remind, his kin could fall either side of the color line. Narrating them may seem odd, coming from a “white? man, but, appearance aside, I’d be surprised if my DNA didn’t show quite a bit of non-European ancestry; a mutt. In any case, they’re easier to understand when heard, since rhythm and emphasis help to clarify dialect hard to decipher on the page. Also, it seems to me that many black actors/narrators/voice artists, might find this beneath their dignity. I’m just going to try and render it as well as I can. For those interested in further reading, the scholar Julius Lester has rendered a version of Uncle Remus intended to preserve the folklore, while removing racially offensive content.

The Wonderful Tar-Baby Story, and How Mr. Rabbit Was Too Sharp For Mr. Fox (the Briar Patch).

Of course you've heard of Rip's long nap; here's the whole story of the henpecked feckless farmer who went for a ramble, drank strange drink with strangers, drowsed off a loyal subject of George III, and woke 20 years later in the young USA.

Jack London's account of a foolhardy arctic Yukon trip, in late December of the early twentieth century.

Owen Johnson tells how an unlikely hero achieved schoolboy immortality.

This is for my wife, whose pancakes are unsurpassed, and for one of my old college roomates, who attended the great boarding school of this story at just about the time it took place - I think.

The Old Man of the Mountain, also known as "The Great Stone Face," in Hawthorne, fell to earth in May, 2003. Few seem to have recalled Hawthorne's tale, and the feelings of wisdom, patience, and serenity he attributed to the Old Man.

Plans are afoot to restore him to his mountainside. I hope they go forward, for his fall seems like a rebuke from Nature itself, as if his sorrow over the state of humanity, which borrowed his image, were so great that his own existence became insupportable. For more information, visit franconianotchstatepark.com/oldman

Hapless kidnappers find the limit of parental affection.

Edward Everett Hale's story of a U.S. Army officer in the early 19th century. Caught up in Aaron Burr's conspiracy, when court-martialled, he wishes he might never hear of the United States again. That becomes his sentence.

Especially for Memorial Day, this story, written during the American Civil War, takes us back to a time when the very existence of the United States was again in doubt. It begins when its protagonist, Philip Nolan, a young U.S. Army officer, is caught up with the Burr conspiracy in the early 19th century. Tried and found guilty of treason (unlike Burr, who was acquitted), Nolan curses his country and wishes he may never hear of it again. His sentence is to have his wish granted: he is put into custody of the U.S. Navy, and in many different ships, over the course of fifty-five years, never again comes within a hundred miles of America, or hears of her until his death. In the climax of the story, the officer responsible for Nolan, reformed into a fervent (if ignorant) patriot, doesn't have the heart to tell him of the Civil War, knowing it would break his heart. His repentance gives the story its power, and his shame, broken only to shyly extend kindness to young naval officers and men in the course of his captivity, is palpable. As America looks forward to another election, one sentence from this tale seems particularly pertinent (yet again): "...I have thought our danger was in keeping up those regular successions in the first families." All the officers in charge struggle to do their duty, despite fecklessness of their superiors. Elements in this story, from patriotic devotion to government claims of ignorance or deniability, continue to this day.

Nathaniel Hawthorne's parable of holiness and humility in the White Mountain valleys that look up to New Hampshire's now fallen Old Man of the Mountain.

Set in the California Gold Rush, the author asks an old man for news of a friend's friend. Instead, he hears of a compulsive gambler with the same last name, and his animal contestants.