1. Was his poetry any good?
Yes, the poems reach across the years with their precision and beauty. If you don't know his work, start with a poem like Fern Hill. Don't read it, though, wallow in it.
2. Why should we read him now?
He's a poet for austere years because he reminds us that language is a currency that's never devalued and is never on a zero-hours contract.
3. Were there other poets like him? Was he a one-off?
There were other language-intoxicated poets like him in the 1930s and 40s. Try George Barker: he's great!
4. Was London his true home?
He loved London but in the end everything was reflected through the prism of Wales.
5. Is it true that he used to rewrite his poems up to fifty times?
Yes, he wanted to give the image of effortlessness but he really worked on the poems. Writing was rewriting, as far as he was concerned.
6. How did drink affect his work?
He certainly loved drinking but he said he never wrote when drunk; maybe the work sometimes tried to recapture a drunken state of mind.
7. In the end did America kill him?
Literally it did: it was on a reading tour when he out and drank all the whisky that killed him, but it could have saved him because he was meant to be meeting Stravinsky to write a libretto for him. An interesting 'What If'?
8. How Welsh is he?
He doesn't speak Welsh but to me he's Universally Welsh.
9. What part did the BBC play in his life?
The BBC kept him going; it commissioned new work and gave him an audience.
10. Is ‘extravagant’ a good word to describe his language?
Yes: extravagant, exuberant, effervescent, but also thoughtful and occasionally with moments of great clarity, and it's when these two extremes blend that we get the best of Thomas.