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Playlist: Chatterbox Audio Theater's Portfolio

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Dead and Gone

From Chatterbox Audio Theater | 01:03:20

A Southern retelling of James Joyce's classic story "The Dead." In early-20th-century Memphis, an insecure schoolteacher struggles to navigate the social currents at his aunts' holiday party. But before the night is over, several unexpected encounters and one stunning revelation will change the way he views his family, his friends, and himself.

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Memphis in 1905 was a city in transition. While relatively unharmed by the Civil War -- physically, at least -- it had nearly been decimated by an epidemic of Yellow Fever during 1878 and 1879. The resulting deaths and mass exodus caused a population drop of almost 75%, creating financial difficulties that led to the loss of the city’s charter. From 1879 to 1893, Memphis was not even a city, but a taxing district under the control of the state.

By the early 1900s, however, Memphis's luck had begun to change. The strict oversight of the taxing district had helped minimize political corruption. Scientific advances prevented further outbreaks of Yellow Fever. Across America, industrialization was attracting people from the country to the cities, and Memphis was no exception; by 1900, its population had rebounded mightily, surpassing pre-epidemic levels and breaking the 100,000 mark for the first time.

Naturally, this influx of people brought with it an unprecedented diversity. While healthy in many respects, the mixture of cultures was often volatile -- particularly when Confederate sympathizers found themselves in close contact with working-class African Americans, who were still only a generation away from slavery. Racial tensions soared. For many Southern whites, even at the turn of the century, the Civil War was more than a memory, and the ideals of the Old South (including religious fundamentalism, states' rights, and white supremacy) still held sway.

Such ideals were in direct contrast to the tide of Progressivism that swept over America during the first decades of the 20th century. Progressivism was a populist movement, advocating a wide range of social and civic reforms aimed at improving efficiency and quality of life. These reforms included advances in public health (sewage systems, vaccinations), tougher penalties for criminals, government oversight of industry, increased rights for women, prohibition of alcohol, and more. Though Progressivism was still in its infancy in 1905 -- particularly in the South -- the young century seemed destined to produce a titanic struggle between the past and the future.

It is into this divided and complex world that we introduce James Joyce's classic story "The Dead." Joyce’s original is set in early 20th-century Dublin, at a time when tensions between Catholic nationalists and Protestant loyalists were as strong as ever. The story follows Gabriel Conroy, an insecure schoolteacher, as he tries to fit in at his aunts' annual holiday party. Joyce pokes fun at the eccentricities of all his characters, Gabriel included, as the story moves -- almost invisibly -- toward its heartbreaking conclusion. My hope is that the transplanted setting will shed some new light on this classic story, and will make it all the more resonant for those of us who call the South home.

Dead and Gone was the result of a hundred small collaborations, each of which added a layer of richness to the production. I am sincerely grateful to everyone who had a hand in this show, whether they contributed their talent, space, equipment, time, or simply their encouragement. As Chatterbox grows, so does our ambition. It is only with the help of our exceptional supporters and participants that we are able to keep up.

--Robert Arnold

Chatterbox Audio Theater - Halloween Show 2008

From Chatterbox Audio Theater | 04:22:56

Performed live on Halloween night on 91.1 WKNO FM (Memphis, TN), this chilling anthology show marks Chatterbox's broadcast radio debut.

08halloween3_small Performed live on Halloween night on 91.1 WKNO FM (Memphis, TN), this chilling anthology show marks Chatterbox's broadcast radio debut.

Bartleby the Scrivener

From Chatterbox Audio Theater | Part of the Bartleby the Scrivener series | 47:13

Melville's classic tale of an inscrutable copyist who nearly brings down the whole system -- by doing nothing at all.

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"Bartleby the Scrivener" was written by Herman Melville in 1853, a time of self-discovery for the author and the growing city in which his story takes place. "Bartleby" was originally published anonymously in two parts in Putnam’s Monthly Magazine under the title "Bartleby the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street." It was later reprinted in 1856 in The Piazza Tales, a collection of Melville’s magazine pieces.

Prior to writing "Bartleby," Melville received both the highest acclaim and harshest critiques of his literary career. The success came from his first novels, Typee (1846) and Omoo (1847), which documented with some exaggeration his adventures in the Atlantic. Yet despite his overnight fame, Meville did not feel that this type of work was truly creative but rather the product of an experienced life. He sought instead to explore the world of the mind, and while his later novel Moby Dick (1851) was a compromise of desire and demand, he abandoned the seas altogether in the domestic romance Pierre (1852). The resulting reviews were devastating to Meville’s career. Following a manuscript rejection and increasing financial debt, he began writing anonymously for Putnam’s Monthly Magazine, and "Bartleby" was published in the November and December issues later that year. The story was fairly well received, though at the time very few could identify its author.

New York City in the early 1850’s was also undergoing a great deal of change. It was already the largest city and port in the nation. With the increase in population and business, the dominant Protestant society of professionals met an influx of Catholic Irish immigrants fleeing depression. The resulting clash widened class divisions, increased crime rates, and led many to begin developing a new identity for the new nation and city. One such group was Young America.

This literary organization was formed in part by author Cornelius Matthews and critic (and Melville’s then-patron) Evert Duyckinck in the late 1830’s. The recent invention of the penny press and the popularity of sensationalist literature made news affordable and appealing to more of the general public. The cheap papers exploited the public taste for shocking literature and stories that featured a likable pariah rebelling against a corrupt society. Young America reviled and rejected these radical themes, instead glorifying comfort and conventionality. Melville despised the Young America movement and satirized its method and possibly even some of its members in "Bartleby" (specifically modeling the narrator after Duyckinck, Turkey after Matthews, Nippers after Edgar Allan Poe, and he himself standing in opposition as the pariah Bartleby).

Putnam’s publisher was also a fierce enemy to the Young America circle and responded to both the elitist conformity of the group and the conflicts of the growing city by encouraging a new New York attitude in his magazine. This often included a "normal" businessman who encountered an extraordinary "other" from the New York streets and attempted to normalize the outsider. The stories also cited local geographical names, current events, and slang to make the city seem more familiar. These elements of character, plot, and place are found throughout Melville’s "Bartleby," a narrative that follows the acquaintance of a safe, conventional lawyer and the strange scrivener (law copyist) he hires. A journey through the mind and life experience, the story mocks the puppet show that mastered Wall Street and threatened the arts, one that even Melville himself could not seem to escape.

--Karen Strachan

Master Zacharius

From Chatterbox Audio Theater | 53:40

As his creations inexplicably malfunction, an aging clockmaker feels his heart winding down toward death. How far will he go to restore his clocks' vitality -- and ensure his own eternal life?

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Written in 1854 but not published until 1874, "Master Zacharius, or the Clockmaker Who Lost His Soul" might seem strangely technophobic for a Jules Verne story. After all, Verne (1828-1905) -- who, along with H.G. Wells, is widely considered one of the fathers of science fiction -- is famous for adventure stories that showcase marvelous technological innovations. In Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, From the Earth to the Moon, Around the World in Eighty Days, Journey to the Center of the Earth, and many more of his "Voyages Extraordinaires," Verne imaginatively speculates on all the wonderful things that await humanity over the horizon of its progress.

How, then, to understand "Master Zacharius," in which the strong-willed inventor and student of science foolishly rebels against humility and religious piety? At least one critic claims that Verne wrote the story to appease his devout father, who became enraged after learning that the younger Verne had abandoned a planned legal career. This may be, but more careful consideration of the story also suggests that Verne is using Zacharius to explore a theme that occupied him throughout his entire artistic life.

In Zacharius's world, as in our own, science and technology are themselves morally neutral. Certainly there is nothing sinful in the Master's invention of the escapement, a device that changes the continuous motion of gears into the periodic motion of a clock's hands. The problem comes with Zacharius's pride in his invention, and the grandiose claim that its creation has made him the equal of God. The story's true evil, then, is named outright in the title of its second chapter: not science itself, but "The Pride of Science."

Consider, too, the strange gentleman who shows up in Zacharius's workshop. Though his bargain is undeniably Faustian, Signor Pittonaccio does not physically resemble Satan. Instead, he is described as -- and he behaves just like -- a clock. The story's antagonist, then, is time itself, whom Zacharius petitions for eternal life, and who proves more difficult to regulate than the Master, in his boastfulness, would expect.

Verne's longtime editor Pierre-Jules Hetzel had a famously strong influence on the author. Among other revisions, Hetzel encouraged Verne to imbue his narratives with happy endings and a general sense of optimism. Stories created outside of Hetzel's influence reveal an abiding cynicism about the effect of technology on the human spirit. (Poignantly, Verne's dystopian novel Paris in the 20th Century was deemed so gloomy by Hetzel that Verne locked the manuscript in a safe, where it was not discovered again until 1994, after the 20th century had nearly ended.) Written prior to Hetzel's involvement and published after his grip on the artist had begun to loosen, "Master Zacharius" may actually reveal more of Verne's true outlook than do the more upbeat narratives in his better-known works.

So -- is Verne's cynicism warranted? Can humankind pursue science and progress while avoiding a corrosive pride? Can we make moral choices in a world devoid of literal angels and demons? Of course we can. We just need the occasional reminder, which this story delivers beautifully, that true wisdom lies in admitting that, no matter how advanced we become, we still know practically nothing.

--Robert Arnold

Master Zacharius

From Chatterbox Audio Theater | 53:40

As his creations inexplicably malfunction, an aging clockmaker feels his heart winding down toward death. How far will he go to restore his clocks' vitality -- and ensure his own eternal life?

Masterzacharius1_small

Written in 1854 but not published until 1874, "Master Zacharius, or the Clockmaker Who Lost His Soul" might seem strangely technophobic for a Jules Verne story. After all, Verne (1828-1905) -- who, along with H.G. Wells, is widely considered one of the fathers of science fiction -- is famous for adventure stories that showcase marvelous technological innovations. In Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, From the Earth to the Moon, Around the World in Eighty Days, Journey to the Center of the Earth, and many more of his "Voyages Extraordinaires," Verne imaginatively speculates on all the wonderful things that await humanity over the horizon of its progress.

How, then, to understand "Master Zacharius," in which the strong-willed inventor and student of science foolishly rebels against humility and religious piety? At least one critic claims that Verne wrote the story to appease his devout father, who became enraged after learning that the younger Verne had abandoned a planned legal career. This may be, but more careful consideration of the story also suggests that Verne is using Zacharius to explore a theme that occupied him throughout his entire artistic life.

In Zacharius's world, as in our own, science and technology are themselves morally neutral. Certainly there is nothing sinful in the Master's invention of the escapement, a device that changes the continuous motion of gears into the periodic motion of a clock's hands. The problem comes with Zacharius's pride in his invention, and the grandiose claim that its creation has made him the equal of God. The story's true evil, then, is named outright in the title of its second chapter: not science itself, but "The Pride of Science."

Consider, too, the strange gentleman who shows up in Zacharius's workshop. Though his bargain is undeniably Faustian, Signor Pittonaccio does not physically resemble Satan. Instead, he is described as -- and he behaves just like -- a clock. The story's antagonist, then, is time itself, whom Zacharius petitions for eternal life, and who proves more difficult to regulate than the Master, in his boastfulness, would expect.

Verne's longtime editor Pierre-Jules Hetzel had a famously strong influence on the author. Among other revisions, Hetzel encouraged Verne to imbue his narratives with happy endings and a general sense of optimism. Stories created outside of Hetzel's influence reveal an abiding cynicism about the effect of technology on the human spirit. (Poignantly, Verne's dystopian novel Paris in the 20th Century was deemed so gloomy by Hetzel that Verne locked the manuscript in a safe, where it was not discovered again until 1994, after the 20th century had nearly ended.) Written prior to Hetzel's involvement and published after his grip on the artist had begun to loosen, "Master Zacharius" may actually reveal more of Verne's true outlook than do the more upbeat narratives in his better-known works.

So -- is Verne's cynicism warranted? Can humankind pursue science and progress while avoiding a corrosive pride? Can we make moral choices in a world devoid of literal angels and demons? Of course we can. We just need the occasional reminder, which this story delivers beautifully, that true wisdom lies in admitting that, no matter how advanced we become, we still know practically nothing.

--Robert Arnold