11.13.08
The Soloist
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At last, a book from my “string-themed wish list”! Although this Pulitzer nominee is quite a facile novel to read, it is wonderfully thought-provoking and not as overemotional as Vikram Seth’s An Equal Music. (The comparison is induced since both books have classical musicians for central characters.) I blame the melodrama of An Equal Music on the theme of unrequited love and the fact that Seth himself was not a musician but supposedly fell in love with one, in real life – and we know how we tend to dramatize our loved-one’s line of interest by incorporating it in the stories of our lives. For The Soloist, we have bestselling author/cellist Mark Salzman as the writer who pours just the substantial amount of musicality in the novel. While it deals with child prodigies, courtroom drama, schizophrenia, mysticism, lust, and slight existentialism, it was the topic of acceptance and the power of music that I identified with.
The movie of the same title expected to premiere next year stars Robert Downey Jr and Jamie Foxx. Some say it’s based on Salzman’s novel. If it is, it is extremely roughly based since the synopsis seems very different from the book. Yet, it remains to be an interesting movie to watch.
Musicians and non-musicians would be able to appreciate this book, but I especially recommend it to music teachers. The protagonist’s recollections of the dialogues with his late German professor are beautiful revelations.
Here are morsels for the musicians.
On being consumed by the brilliance of a flower’s petals, Von Kempen, the professor, exclaimed, “Herr Sundheimer, look at all that color! Imagine the complexity of it, the perfection of the design! Isn’t it amazing that God produces such things? Herr Sundheimer, right now you are looking at something that has never existed before today, not in all the time since the beginning of the universe. When it fades, it will never exist again – it is absolutely unique in the world. Doesn’t it now seem more precious than when you first noticed it?
…and that is the way to approach music. Every piece, every time you play it, is unique and irreplaceable. You should open your ears and heart to every phrase, every note, and squeeze every drop of beauty you can from it. Take nothing for granted.”
Reinhart Sundheimer, on Bach:
“Each piece is like a finely cut diamond: clear, simple and almost mathematical in appearance, but underneath the surface what complexity and structural integrity! The possibilities for interpretation are limitless; just as there are countless ways to project light through a diamond, no two performances of Bach can be the same because each musician’s unique personality has its own spectrum of feelings that can be conveyed freely through Bach’s inventions. If two very different perform the same Liszt piece, for example, you will still hear primarily Liszt. But Bach’s musical personality was so expansive, so beautifully transparent, that when you interpret him, his ideas become your ideas, and you feel that he must have known you to have written a piece so close to your own heart.”
Sundheimer to his student Kyung-hee, on musicality:
“… the difference between truly great musicians and skilful musical technicians, I believe, is that the musician is able to bring more than just the sense of hearing to his interpretations. When he plays or listens to music, he sees it, feels it, tastes it, and is able to season his performance with memories and fantasies of his own that may have nothing to do with strictly aural harmony.”
Sundheimer, on having perfect-pitch:
“I found a blender that mixes at F-sharp.”
There are also traces of the silly things our students utter that endear us to them even more:
“Why don’t you tell me what you know about scales, Kyung-hee?”
He fidgeted in his chair, then at last said in a tiny voice, “They’re all over fish.”
A few portions of the conclusion without plot-spoilers:
When you play music well, you are transported. However, my experience has been that you cannot make great music happen; you can only prepare yourself for it to happen. To a degree, your preparation determines what will happen, but once it starts happening you have to surrender yourself to it. Once you do so, you are free, except that you are free only within the boundaries you created through your preparation. When…I started trying to force great music to happen I ended up making awful music; in fact, it wasn’t even music anymore.
Mark Salzman
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martin said,
November 13, 2008 at 1:08 pm
wow i want to read this :D
Miracle ♪♫ said,
November 13, 2008 at 1:10 pm
It would be wonderful if you would! =)
Nice to see you here in my little blog, Martin!
mika lastrilla said,
November 13, 2008 at 6:33 pm
“When…I started trying to force great music to happen I ended up making awful music; in fact, it wasn’t even music anymore.”
so true! i can say this from personal experience. on the other hand, my best performances (i think) were those where i wasn’t trying to control every little detail - i enjoying the music too much to think about anything else.
sounds like a really insightful book. maybe we should have more musician-authors out there.
Miracle ♪♫ said,
November 13, 2008 at 7:17 pm
Absitively Posolutely on everything you said, Mika! hehe =D
sopraninigabi said,
November 13, 2008 at 9:35 pm
I am SOOOOO hunting down this book on my next trip to the bookstore, come pay day ;) Thanks for sharing, Meewa dear!
Miracle ♪♫ said,
November 13, 2008 at 9:47 pm
It’s a pleasure, Gabi. May the “hunt” be successful! If not, you’re more than welcome to visit my shelf. ;-)