"To compensate a little for the treachery and weakness of my memory, so extreme that it has happened to me more than once to pick up again, as recent and unknown to me, books which I had read carefully a few years before . . . I have adopted the habit for some time now of adding at the end of each book . . . the time I finished reading it and the judgment I have derived of it as a whole, so that this may represent to me at least the sense and general idea I had conceived of the author in reading it." (Montaigne, Book II, Essay 10 (publ. 1580))

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Dr. Johnson's London (Liza Picard, 2000)

This book was pretty well-reviewed, but I didn't find it all that interesting. Lots of information and facts about London from the period 1740 to 1770; but presented in choppy bites to the point where it felt too much like reading an encyclopedia or the like. The three-decade focus period pretty much correlates with Dr. Johnson's active years. The author was trying to give some perspective on "ordinary" folks.

I noted that dog-fighting was popular. So some things don't change much.

I learned a little about the inception of Methodism (John Wesley) - who reached out to the lower classes and offered a "method" for behaving in a manner that might earn salvation.

A little more perspective on how "German" the British kings were. And I guess Britain didn't ever want a meaningful standing army - thus hiring soldiers from German provinces like Hesse when troops were needed in a hurry.

Very popular to hire folks to carry oneself in a "chair" - easy way to get around, plus permitted avoiding the filthy streets.

Apparently the "gin" craze was pretty serious.

Not that great.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

The Ninth - Beethoven and the World in 1824 (Harvey Sachs, 2010)

I find many book ideas in the review pages of The Wall Street Journal. A couple months ago, I was reading a WSJ edition from back in July (saved specifically for the review pages) and saw a reference to this book - sounded interesting and I reserved it at library.

In the meantime (as discussed in separate link), I auditioned for the chorus in something known as "Arizona MusicFest" - which I've learned is a pretty talent-laden grouping that is performing - Beethoven's 9th. So that upped my interest in the book.

Which I would recommend. The author has a varied background in music, and I think does a very nice job of discussing Beethoven, Europe in 1824, what the 9th might stand for, etc.

Concepts:

1. He emphasized the Romantic ideal of the artist as unique genius earning a place in posterity. This was partly the "great man" notion in reaction to Napoleon. Interesting that, by comparison, folks like Bach and Mozart were doing lots of commissioned works and, at least in Bach's case as I understood it, viewed more as a skilled craftsman than an artist.

2. Beethoven studied with, among others, Salieri and Haydn.

3. How difficult to be going deaf at a young age - huge interference with social relations, etc.

4. Discusses the theory that the Romantics in part were reacting against the repression instituted after the French Revolution and Napoleon spread dangerous ideas throughout Europe. With political avenues barred, expression came via the arts. Makes some sense to me.

5. Compares to Pushkin, Byron, Delacroix as active in 1824.

The author goes through a long explanation of the 9th, how the four movements work together, how the use of a chorus in the fourth movement was entirely groundbreaking, etc. Despair-anger-acceptance-joy. The "brotherhood" message was revolutionary for its time.

This gave me some ideas why I sometimes find Beethoven music less enjoyable than other . . . a big factor would be the preparedness the listener brings (or doesn't bring).

And now - constant use at Euro events.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

B Minor Mass (Johann Sebastian Bach, in segments between 1724 and 1748)

PJ and I had the good fortune to attend a performance of Bach's "Mass in B minor" on Saturday evening (1/15/11) - part of the Arizona Bach Festival. Performance was at Central United Methodist Church. We arrived reasonably on time by our standards, but the place was packed. Our luck (and PJ's find): they were putting up some additional chairs in the transepts, and we ended up in the front row. So had a great side view, could see the conductor throughout - somewhat like the view we have when performing with Choral Union.

After listening to it so often on CD, it was quite an experience to hear a fine live performance. Unoriginal observations: the CD doesn't pick up all the depth of the sound, and certainly doesn't pick up the echoes and reverberations in a church setting.

Quoted at the bottom of the post is a summary from NPR which I like (relating to a CD it's selling). I'm posting the album cover of the version we have on CD, which really is quite fine.

The Phoenix Chorale sounded wonderful - which was good news, since this is primarily a choral work. The festival orchestra also sounded very nice. We weren't completely sold on the soloists, but there were many nice moments.

For me: I still like the Kyrie section best. The first part is almost hypnotic; then a change of pace with two soloists doing the "Christe eleison"; then I much like the final Kyrie eleison as it leads into the Gloria. But the entire thing is a delight, even if two hours is a bit long to be sitting.

After: late dinner at the Vig with my pal.

NPR's take:

"April 7, 2009 - The Mass in B minor is as lofty in design, scope and expression as anything written by the hand of man. It's one of several instances in the music of Johann Sebastian Bach in which a piece is created as an ideal type, rather than crafted for a practical use. As such, it represents an attempt to both summarize the tradition of the mass in a single perfect specimen and leave a statement on the nature of sacred music as a bequest to the future.

Most of the work's component parts date from various times in Bach's long residence in Leipzig; they were assembled to form a complete mass only near the end of his life. The earliest section is the Sanctus, from 1724. The Kyrie and Gloria are taken from a 1733 mass that Bach dedicated to the electoral court of Saxony at Dresden. The last major addition was the Credo; the keystone to the whole archlike structure, and itself a wonderfully symmetrical arch, it was written in 1748-49. Bach never heard the work in its entirety, but it represents a collection of movements in diverse styles; the Mass in B minor transcends the inconsistency of its origins."

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

The Education of Henry Adams (Henry Adams, 1907)

Ranked by the Modern Library in 1998 as the No. 1 American nonfiction book.

I was interested for several additional reasons. This book had discussed Adams in the context of the change starting circa 1900 (and the power of the "dynamo"). Also, I've done almost no reading from this period other than fiction.

In the end, though, I wasn't all that moved, so obviously I was missing something. I read this is described as an "odd" book, and I agree.

Adams had an absolutely unique perch. Starting with his grandfather, John Quincy Adams, who walked him to school, etc. He worked with his father as a diplomat in Britain during the Civil War (when Britain was flirting with the Confederacy). Apparently knew all the US politicians during the period, up to and including a dozen or so presidents.

Adams spent tons of time in Europe; loved the cathedrals; focused on 13th century; Chartres and Mont St. Michel. In Europe in 1870. Tried to make sense of Darwin.

"Between the Civil War and World War I, an old world began to die. Some were aware of it. Others weren’t. Still others knew but labored mightily to pretend, deny, hold it off. Nevertheless, as history will, the change came, and after it blew past, all was different. What we call “the modern world”—a world of politics, technology and attitudes we’re still largely living in—had arrived. . . In The Education of Henry Adams, Adams, readiest of the unready, wrote about what it was like to live through the change, in the change, trying and failing to understand the change. Privately printed in 1907, it was not generally published until after his death in 1918; it won the 1919 Pulitzer Prize. . . .The climax of the book is the famous chapter titled “The Dynamo and the Virgin (1900),” in which Adams beholds the coming role of technological power in human life. He sees the steam turbines at the Paris Exposition of 1900 and writes that for him “... the dynamo became a symbol of infinity.” As he grew accustomed to the great gallery of machines, he began to feel the 40-foot dynamo as a moral force, much as the early Christians felt the Cross. ... “Before the end, one began to pray to it; inherited instinct taught the natural expression of man before silent and infinite force.” . . . He sees the dynamo as a symbol of force itself, of the gods of the future, as distinct from the Virgin, the spirit of the past, reflected in the urge to the arts and philosophy, an urge Adams feels may be swallowed up by the surge of the dynamo."