LibriVox: The Man In Asbestos: An Allegory Of The Future by Stephen Leacock

April 17, 2012 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Online Audio 

SFFaudio Online Audio

LibriVoxThere’s a new great narrator working over on LibriVox and his name is Phil Chenevert.

Now when I say new I mean new-to-me, Chenevert has, apparently, been active on LibriVox since 2010. Since then he’s recorded an impressive number of audiobooks. I only discovered that after hearing his newly released, pitch perfect, reading of The Man In Asbestos: An Allegory Of The Future by Stephen Leacock (which is just one section of THIS audiobook).

You can check out all of his narrations HERE – based on what he’s recorded so far Chenevert seems to have a fondness towards children’s literature with several whole single narration audiobooks of Lewis Carroll, L. Frank Baum, and the Br’er Rabbit stories (which are awesomely accented) as well as a schooling manual (Dr. Montessori’s Own Handbook by Dr. Maria Montessori). But there are a few SF titles in his catalogue too.

LIBRIVOX - The Man In Asbestos by Stephen LeacockThe Man In Asbestos: An Allegory Of The Future
By Stephen Leacock; Read by Phil Chenevert
1 |MP3| – Approx. 27 Minutes [UNABRIDGED]
Publisher: LibriVox.org
Published: April 16, 2012
A 20th century man travels to the distant future by typical means (eating donuts and reading comics) only to find himself in a museum of the 20th century. The museum’s curator isn’t exacty sure if it’s the year 3000 or not, but he is sure that life is better now that nobody dies, eats, or has a telephone. First published in 1911 as a part of Nonsense Novels.

[Thanks also to April Gonzales!]

Posted by Jesse Willis

CBC: Rewind: Alan Maitland’s readings of three stories by Stephen Leacock, Saki, and O. Henry

August 29, 2011 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Online Audio 

SFFaudio Online Audio

As It Happens
, a long running CBC Radio series, used to feature the occasional short story reading by host Alan Maitland. In fact we reviewed one of the collections, Scary Stories with Alan Maitland |READ OUR REVIEW| back in 2005. Using the pseudonyms “Front Porch Al”, “Fireside Al” and “Graveside Al” Maitland would read classic stories of humor and drama. A recent CBC podcast episode of Rewind, hosted by Michael Enright, features three “Front Porch Al” readings. First up is The Great Election in Missinaba County a “tale of an election in the imaginary county of Missinaba, in the Dominion of Canada, as viewed by the twinkling eye of Stephen Leacock.” Following that Maitland reads a fantastically humorous story, Tobermory by Saki, which is about a talking cat with some very unpopular opinions. Lastly, there’s A Service Of Love by O. Henry, which of course features a surprise ending.

CBC RewindThe Great Election in Missinaba County, Tobermory, and A Service Of Love
By Stephen Leacock, Saki and O. Henry; Read by Alan Maitland
1 |MP3| – Approx. 53 Minutes [UNABRIDGED?]
Podcaster: Rewind
Podcast: July 28, 2011
“It’s summer and the days are lazy and long, perfect for sitting on the front porch, sipping some lemonade and listening to a story. And if you don’t have the front porch and the lemonade, well at least we have the story for you. A couple, actually. They’re from my old friend Al Maitland, also known as Front Porch Al.”

Podcast feed: http://www.cbc.ca/podcasting/includes/rewind.xml

Posted by Jesse Willis

P.S. Speaking of Als. I guess Apocalypse Al will never be featured on Rewind, at least not until he is actually freed from CBC prison.

Mister Ron’s Basement: My Financial Career by Stephen Leacock

July 1, 2010 by · Leave a Comment
Filed under: Aural Noir, Online Audio 

Aural Noir: Online Audio

This 100 year old story of a very Canadian bank heist, authored by Canada’s greatest literary humorist, could encapsulate a good part of that elusive Canadian culture we say were always looking for.

My Financial Career by Stephen Leacock, Art by GordRaymer (found in SENSE AND FEELING)

Mister Ron's BasementMy Financial Career
By Stephen Leacock; Read by Mister Ron
1 |MP3| – Approx. 7 Minutes [UNABRIDGED]
Podcaster: Mister Ron’s Basement
Podcast: 2005

My Financial Career by Stephen Leacock

When I go into a bank I get rattled. The clerks rattle me; the wickets rattle me; the sight of the money rattles me; everything rattles me.

The moment I cross the threshold of a bank and attempt to transact business there, I become an irresponsible idiot.

I knew this beforehand, but my salary had been raised to fifty dollars a month, and I felt that the bank was the only place for it.

So I shambled in and looked timidly round at the clerks. I had an idea that a person about to open an account must needs consult the manager.

I went up to a wicket marked “Accountant.” The accountant was a tall, cool devil. The very sight of him rattled me. My voice was sepulchral.

“Can I see the manager?” I said, and added solemnly, “alone.” I don’t know why I said “alone.”

“Certainly,” said the accountant, and fetched him.

The manager was a grave, calm man. I held my fifty-six dollars clutched in a crumpled ball in my pocket.

“Are you the manager?” I said. God knows I didn’t doubt it.

“Yes,” he said.

“Can I see you,” I asked, “alone?” I didn’t want to say “alone” again, but without it the thing seemed self-evident.

The manager looked at me in some alarm. He felt that I had an awful secret to reveal.

“Come in here,” he said, and led the way to a private room. He turned the key in the lock.

“We are safe from interruption here,” he said; “sit down.”

We both sat down and looked at each other. I found no voice to speak.

“You are one of Pinkerton’s men, I presume,” he said.

He had gathered from my mysterious manner that I was a detective. I knew what he was thinking, and it made me worse.

“No, not from Pinkerton’s,” I said, seeming to imply that I came from a rival agency.

“To tell the truth,” I went on, as if I had been prompted to lie about it, “I am not a detective at all. I have come to open an account. I intend to keep all my money in this bank.”

The manager looked relieved, but still serious; he concluded now that I was a son of Baron Rothschild or a young Gould.

“A large account, I suppose,” he said.

“Fairly large,” I whispered. “I propose to deposit fifty-six dollars now and fifty dollars a month regularly.”

The manager got up and opened the door. He called to the accountant.

“Mr. Montgomery,” he said unkindly loud, “this gentleman is opening an account. He will deposit fifty-six dollars. Good morning.”

I rose.

A big iron door stood open at the side of the room.

“Good morning,” I said, and stepped into the safe.

“Come out,” said the manager coldly, and showed me the other way.

I went up to the accountant’s wicket and poked the ball of money at him with a quick, convulsive movement, as if I were doing a conjuring trick.

My face was ghastly pale.

“Here,” I said, “deposit it.” The tone of the words seemed to mean, “Let us do this painful thing while the fit is on us.”

He took the money and gave it to another clerk.

He made me write the sum on a slip and sign my name in a book. I no longer knew what I was doing. The bank swam before my eyes.

“Is it deposited?” I asked in a hollow, vibrating voice.

“It is,” said the accountant.

“Then I want to draw a cheque.”

My idea was to draw out six dollars of it for present use. Someone gave me a cheque book through a wicket and someone else began telling me how to write it out. The people in the bank had the impression that I was an invalid millionaire. I wrote something on the cheque and thrust it in at the clerk. He looked at it.

“What! are you drawing it all out again?” he asked in surprise. Then I realized that I had written fifty-six instead of six. I was too far gone to reason now. I had a feeling that it was impossible to explain the thing. All the clerks had stopped writing to look at me. Reckless with misery, I made a plunge.

“Yes, the whole thing.”

“You withdraw your money from the bank?”

“Every cent of it.”

“Are you not going to deposit any more?” said the clerk, astonished.

“Never.”

An idiot hope struck me that they might think something had insulted me while I was writing the cheque, and that I had changed my mind. I made a wretched attempt to look like a man with a fearfully quick temper.

The clerk prepared to pay the money.

“How will you have it?” he said.

“What?”

“How will you have it?”

“Oh”—I caught his meaning and answered without even trying to think—”in fifties.”

He gave me a fifty-dollar bill.

“And the six?” he asked dryly.

“In sixes,” I said.

He gave it me and I rushed out.

As the big door swung behind me I caught the echo of a roar of laughter that went up to the ceiling of the bank. Since then I bank no more. I keep my money in cash in my trousers pocket and my savings in silver dollars in a sock.

And here is the 1962 National Film Board adaptation:

Posted by Jesse Willis

The Washington Post: article about Mister Ron and his podcast

November 10, 2009 by · 1 Comment
Filed under: News 

SFFaudio News

Podcast - Mister Ron's BasementOur friend Mister Ron (of the Mister Ron’s Basement podcast) was recently written about for a 700 word newspaper article in The Washington Post!

The story, by columnist John Kelly, is titled A new voice for the humorists buried deep in the newspaper bin. In it we get a real picture of what Mister Ron is doing with his long running podcast (he’s podcast a stunning 1,500 episodes so far), a real sense of the connectedness modern newspaper journalists feel for their centenary predecessors, and what Mr. Ron’s basement actually looks like (it’s full of books, comics and newspapers).

The Washington Post


Here’s the start:

“In the basement of his Woodbridge home — surrounded by comic books and paperbacks, crumbling hardbacks and yellowing newspapers — Ron Evry is conjuring up a vanished world.

It’s a world of patent medicine-hustling mountebanks and pushy insurance salesmen, of clueless wives and blustering bosses, of penny farthing bicycles and steam trains and celluloid collars and mistaken identities and close scrapes and comically ill-planned get-rich-quick schemes.

It’s a world that you would have recognized instantly if you had been reading a newspaper a century or more ago.

Back then, just about every U.S. newspaper published short, humorous stories, brief bits of fiction set amongst the shipping news and the ads for liver pills. Mark Twain and O Henry did that sort of thing better than anybody, but plenty of other writers did it, too: Stanley Huntley, Fanny Fern, Ellis Parker Butler, Stephen Leacock…”

To read the rest of the article go |HERE|, to hear what happened when Mister Ron’s visited our podcast, check out The SFFaudio Podcast #013 |MP3|.

To subscribe to Mister Ron’s Basement podcast use this feed:

http://misterron.libsyn.com/rss

Congrats Mister Ron!

Posted by Jesse Willis