[apologies for the late response—just remembered that I’d forgotten to submit this after class]

When thinking about the affective differences between “normal” and audio-books, especially following reading Rubery’s piece, my mind seemed to assume differences as it pertained to works of fiction. And even though this assignment was meant specifically to explore audio-books of fiction, I still thought this sort of interesting, and so I wanted to explore what it would mean to, perhaps, “perform” non-fiction or critical theory texts—and what the display of these texts into the sonic dimension would bring about. I was thinking that maybe, this would bring about a similar effect as when my professors in college would read difficult concepts aloud, which would somehow, magically, make me understand that concept better.

I was somewhat surprised to see a plethora of Marx’s unabridged work in a-book form on LibriVox. I actually found it kind of funny; to think that someone would take the time to transcribe Marx’s complex writing into audio form seemed a bit wild. Indeed, all of Kapital Vol. 1 was transcribed, and so I decided to take a look. Production value of the a-book was very low, with a single narrator usually speaking for the entirety of a chapter, with new narrators every once in a while for other chapters. What was more interesting is the order of the reading, in that all footnotes are read as their emplaced through out the book; that is, the narrator will suddenly jump in and recite the footnotes as they appear throughout the book, which I would usually read at the end of chapter. The spacial arrangement of a physical book allows for jumping around (easily) as you read, whereas with an audiobook, there is a specific decision that has to be made when deciding to read footnotes as you go. For me, this disrupted my usual reading flow, which was a bit off-putting.

While “reading” this book felt a bit lackluster, I wouldn’t consider the decision the a-book’s monotone style as neutral, per se. Considering the various ways in which one can interpret and understand Marx’s Kapital, it makes sense to read it in such a way as to not intentionally emphasize certain parts of the book and impute one’s own interpretation of the work. It made me think about what it would look like, then, to read Kapital in a way that intentionally emphasized certain pieces of Marx’s writing: For example, I’m sure that a Marxist-Feminist would emphasize certain parts of the text, as opposed to, say, an eco-marxist. I think there’s room then, through playing with production, that one could play around with and communicate a text like Kapital. 

Today I’m writing about a recording of the short story, Aaron Kelly’s Bones, read by George S. Irving. You can give it a listen yourself if you click here.

I haven’t been one for audiobooks in many, many years. The closest I get is listening to literary analysis of pieces of I’ve already read in the background while I’m doing something else. Now, I know that the video I’ve posted may not appear to constitute an “original audiobook”; it’s a reading of a single story from a large anthology of short scary stories called Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark (apparently, it’s well known, but most people I ask are only semi-familiar with it at best. I chose the video I did specifically because it has the entire story in its description, in case you want to read along.) However, I’d argue that isolating it from the rest of the anthology gives it a different, unique context – I find myself going back to this video far more often than I do any other content relating to the anthology, and I feel like listening to just this story is an incredibly different experience from listening to the entire anthology.

The performance of the narrator of this reading, George S. Irving, is a massive part of the reason that I’m writing about this recording specifically. The slightly accented voice Irving uses while narrating this story is not the norm for him: however, it gives the recording a very distinct identity entirely on its own. In an audiobook, the narrator becomes a much more present character than in a text you’re reading silently, and this is a key aspect of storytelling that many people tend to overlook, especially because one doesn’t always think about the narrator when reading a text unless the text is either in the first person, or features a particularly striking or unusual form of narration, such in parts of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury.

On the subject of voice, Irving’s performance is what not only makes this reading appealing to me in the first place, but in my mind, it makes it something more than a reading or audiobook; Irving is energetic, enthusiastic, and lively as he recites. With only mild adjustments to his voice, he’s able to give each character’s dialogue its own distinct touch. As you listen, you can tell each of the characters apart without any difficulty at all, and Irving’s portrayal of each of them feels consistent with their characterization within the story. Aaron Kelly’s Bones is a horror story, and a rather morbid one, considering the fact that its plot consists of a deceased man returning from beyond the grave. However, it also has humorous themes to it – Aaron Kelly, the revenant or zombie or whatever you want to call him, returns from the dead largely to be a minor nuisance to his widow. Thus, Irving’s choice of voices and tone are a perfect fit for this sort of story.

This is a reading I can listen to over and over again without getting tired of it. Admittedly, this is the case with the other stories from Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark that Irving has narrated, but I chose this one because I feel like it’s a prime example of how with the right narration and technique, the way one tells a story can be radically altered and improved. Probably my favorite section of the reading is at 2:06, where a goofy MIDI track starts up to represent the fiddler beginning to play. It always catches my attention, as it’s easily the most noticeable sound effect added to the recording, and if I’m being honest, I find it rather catchy, despite how silly it is.

It is not an easy thing–to pick a novel. In the end, I decided to go on with Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky. The novel was published, as a book, in 1866–it was translated into English multiple times by a diverse cohort of translators. While choosing this book, I also wanted to which translated will be available online, and naturally, what happened to the text and how it was presented? 

When I searched on LibriVox, it turned out that an audiobook is available on this resource in Constance Garnett’s translation–this is a translation that has been actively used for many decades by scholars and researchers as well as students in the field of Slavic studies.

Crime and Punishment available on LibriVox is almost twenty-hours long. A large number of narrators contributed to this work; to be more exact, I counted fourteen narrators who read six parts of the book and its epilogue. The parts are then divided into chapters, and narrators usually read chapters—not following any order at all. Sometime, a contributor would read just one chapter, whereas the other would read a big chunk of the book. What I found particularly interesting is that some narrators provided their real names and some, just nicknames. Some of these narrators, it turned out after looking up their profiles, are very active contributors to LibriVox. They narrate not only literature in translation but also literary works composed originally in English. As it seems from their profile, one narrator has been a professional “voice actor,” using the definition from Matthew Rubery’s illuminating article.

Since we have a very vibrant and diverse number of narrators, each one did their job differently. Since we have here fourteen narrators, it is tough to generalize how their approach the reading of their part. I would say that some felt more natural and relaxed, and therefore it was easier for them to go through the text and change voices when appropriate, while the others were not that convincing. Such a diverse and large number of voices made me think of the following question: how, and more importantly, why did they end up having so many narrators? One of my hypotheses is, of course, the length of this novel—it is relatively uneasy to find a person who has resources and energy to narrate 

After reading Rubery’s essay, I came up with several other questions that might be tackled and explored in a longer piece. For example, how did this 19th-century novel was read by Dostoevsky himself—do we have any information on this topic? Could we trace any continuities between how Dostoevsky’s novel is read now and how it was read during the author’s life? Was it ever read by the translator, Constance Garnett, and if we have a recording of her reading? Do we have a different sense of the novel when we hear in someone else’s narration? Also, are we going to have a different experience of the novel when we listen to an audiobook of other translations? (Garnett’s translation is not used nowadays as actively as it was before the 1990s?

Inspired by the prompt to find an “original audiobook” I chose to look at the New Yorker Fiction Podcast series, because it contains audio recordings of short stories chosen and read by other authors. Looking through the New Yorker archives I landed on an author whose work I know and love, but a story I had not yet read. I wanted to listen to the recorded voice first, without any formed ideas of the characters or the piece. 

The story I landed on is Barn Burning written by Haruki Murakami and read by Andrea Lee, a renowned writer in her own right. The most unique feature of Lee’s voice is also the reason I chose a recording from this series; she cannot really be considered an amateur reader, but she is not a professional actor. Her voice does not “perpetuate the tradition of staged readings by celebrated actors more so than the domestic pastime of reading aloud in the Victorian parlour.” ( Rubery, P65) The sound quality is excellent, but the focus and the purpose of the recording and the conversations that follows, is to listen to the story through and explore the voice of Andrea Lee.

Her reading is a performance in the sense that she lends a different voice to each character, but this is done mostly to differentiate between the characters. She applies something very close to her own speaking voice to the narrator, only slightly at a lower pitch and slower, perhaps to get closer to the voice of a male character. This could be because the main protagonist also happens to be a writer who recants the story with some detachment. As in most Murakami stories and novels, he is also the narrator. 

The most striking difference when I read the piece, after listening to it, is the visual transformation of the characters and places. In Lee’s voice the protagonist looked and sounded older and the setting was only vaguely Japanese. Settings looked more like in-between images of places I know. Much like the Mid-Atlantic accent it was neither Japan nor rural Ohio, but somehow it looked like both. The places were also more vivid when I read the story. 

I considered Rubery’s “ear contact” as I was listening to the story. I felt an intimate connection with the voice, “whispered directly into my ear” but the connection I felt with was Lee’s voice. Through her narration I felt more distant to the events and characters. Listening to a recording of the story as part of this podcast that lands her voice as much weight as that of Murakami is at least partially responsible for this. Taking the podcast as a whole, there are many voices and different media that come together to tell this story. This is a taste of the potential of digital audio technology to change the way we think about literature that Rubery discusses in his piece. It is also another form of a community moving further away from the idea of writing as a solitary experience. The original title I considered for this post was something like, Barn Burning written by Haruki Murakami, read by Andrea Lee, in a recorded conversation with Deborah Treisman, in which they also discuss the film version by Lee Chang-dong, and the loose relationship with William Faulkner’s story of the same name.

This assignment was a little difficult for me, as I do not like audiobooks. I prefer to read, especially if it is fiction. While thinking about possible choices, I remembered that I do own an audiobook, or rather my mother does. My parents record collection contains a small subcollection of audiobooks and sing-alongs from the 1960s and 1970s. Looking through the collection, I saw Disney’s The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle from 1969. The Legend of Sleepy Hollow is, as Rubery describes, a twice-heard tale for me. I grew up with the record (and movies) but did not read Irving’s work until college. I decided to use this record and look at how the audio compares to the text version and what I overall prefer.

Considering the year it was made, the production quality is high but I am not surprised since Disney is known for its attention to detail. The narrator is famous voice actor Billy Bletcher, who worked with Disney on multiple projects. He is most known as the voice of Pete. As a professional, Bletcher’s narration blends seamlessly with the two songs included and the sound effects. He is also the only narrator, but does not sing the songs. Bletcher does not change his voice at all, but changes his tempo during the infamous chase scene. 

The recording is abridged, frankly much shorter than the time it took to read the actual text. The total time was approximately 15 minutes including the 2 songs. I was not completely surprised with the cuts, as Disney’s target audience is children and a lot of what was removed would not appeal to them. Looking at the cut text, it was over-long descriptions of the town, food, and what was on Van Tassel’s farm. All of the text mentioning “negroes” was removed, which I approved of. A lot of the original text was kept and even used in the lyrics for the two songs, “Ichabod Crane” and “Headless Horseman.” Songs are very popular with children, and a smart choice on Disney’s part. What changed the most was the chase scene. The Horseman on the record was given a sword and had a pumpkin head. In the text, there was no sword and a pumpkin was found on the ground the next day. I loved this version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. Rubery wrote about sound technology creating a “private acoustic space,” and I did appreciate that with this story. The eerie sounds of the trees swaying and the wind whistling kept me engaged and made this version more enjoyable than the text. I still have “Headless Horseman” in my head, and I am okay with that.

Since this recording was meant for children and different from the text, I wanted to see if I would feel the same with an unabridged version. I found a recording on LibriVox of the complete text. The narrator, Chip, had a pleasant voice, and the entire recording (with LibriVox introduction) was 1:23:23. The production was fine, and the complete text was read aloud. There were times when Chip seemed out of breath in the middle of a sentence and had to take a deep breath, but I will blame Irving’s long, detailed sentences. Chip’s voice did not change throughout, but did quicken a little during the chase scene and there were no sound effects.

Overall, I don’t think my mind has changed on audiobooks. I enjoyed the Disney version and Chip was a great narrator, but I prefer reading over listening. You have more control with text than with sound, and I need that. It was difficult for me to sit there listening to another dull description, when I can easily scan ahead with text. I will admit that it was easier to re-read sections in the text than with the audio I first chose. I couldn’t simply “re-wind” my record, but even the digital audio was difficult to navigate. Maybe it is possible to bookmark sections in Audible or other paid apps. I am willing to try audiobooks again, but with something in the horror or thriller genres.

In a bit of kismet, Matthew Rubery, whose pioneering work on the audiobook and oralizations of novels we will be reading and discussing, is giving an online lecture next week at U of IL. Details below: I’m going to try to catch part of it around my teaching schedule.

The Center for Children’s Books at University of Illinois Urbana Champaign is having an online lecture that will be of interest to those DHers with audio interests. Please see abstract below and attached flyer:

Prof. Matthew Rubery, “Book Audio”
Sept 17, 12-1pm CST

Audiobooks do more than reproduce printed books. Although the audiobook’s reliance on sound is sometimes perceived as a liability, there are numerous instances in which the addition of sound effects might be said to enhance the reading experience. This presentation examines recordings that take advantage of the audiobook’s affordances to go beyond simply replicating print. Drawing on sources ranging from children’s books to celebrity memoirs, it takes up the question: What happens when publishers experiment with sound to create “book audio” instead of audiobooks—that is, recordings whose soundtracks go beyond the verbal description of sounds by using actual sounds?

To sign up, check this URL for the Zoom info on 9/17: https://ccb.ischool.illinois.edu/ss/