All posts by Thaddeus Wert

High school math teacher and fan of all kinds of music, but most of all prog.
LITERATURE

Raymond Chandler’s The Little Sister

I’ve become a big fan of Raymond Chandler’s hard-boiled novels featuring his private eye, Philip Marlowe. I previously reviewed his fourth book, The Lady In The Lake, and The Little Sister, published in 1949, continues Chandler’s bleak and disillusioned perspective on the seamy side of Los Angeles and its surrounding towns. 

It opens with Marlowe alone in his office, when a woman calls him on the phone, asking him to find her missing brother. He insists on seeing her in person, which she resists, but eventually gives in. She is Orfamay Quest, and, as Marlowe describes her, 

She was a small, neat, rather prissy-looking girl with primly smooth brown hair and rimless glasses.
RAYMOND CHANDLER. The Little Sister (Kindle Locations 229-230). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

She has come all the way out to California from Manhattan, Kansas, because her brother, Orrin – who, she assures Marlowe, would never get into any kind of trouble – stopped sending weekly letters to her and their mother. Marlowe is naturally suspicious of Orfamay’s story, but he agrees to take on her case for twenty dollars. 

What follows is a very complicated situation involving mobsters from Cleveland, corrupt cops, Hollywood B-listers, a doctor who supplies them with drugs, and a murderer who likes to kill by stabbing his (or her) victims in the neck with an ice pick. Suffice it to say that no one is particularly innocent and Marlowe’s natural cynicism is fully justified. 

And yet, even in the most dangerous and tempting circumstances, Marlowe clings to his code of honor: refusing to take bribes, stating the truth to the police even when it puts himself in danger, and resisting the blandishments of a beautiful Hollywood actress. He knows he won’t get rewarded for his virtue, but like a medieval knight pledged to behave chivalrously, he never gives in.

As in The Lady In The Lake, one of my favorite ingredients of Chandler’s style is his deadpan humor. Here are a few examples:

I got my wallet out and handed him one of my business cards. He read it thoughtfully and tapped the edge against his porcelain crown.
“He coulda went somewhere without telling me,” he mused.
“Your grammar,” I said, “is almost as loose as your toupee.”
“You lay off my toupee, if you know what’s good for you,” he shouted.
“I wasn’t going to eat it,” I said. “I’m not that hungry.”
He took a step towards me, and dropped his right shoulder. A scowl of fury dropped his lip almost as far.
“Don’t hit me. I’m insured,” I told him.
“Oh hell. Just another screwball.” He shrugged and put his lip back up on his face.
RAYMOND CHANDLER. The Little Sister (Kindle Locations 571-577). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

A fat man in sky-blue pants was closing the door with that beautiful leisure only fat men ever achieve. He wasn’t alone, but I looked at him first. He was a large man and wide. Not young nor handsome, but he looked durable. Above the sky-blue gabardine slacks he wore a two-tone leisure jacket which would have been revolting on a zebra. The neck of his canary-yellow shirt was open wide, which it had to be if his neck was going to get out. He was hatless and his large head was decorated with a reasonable amount of pale salmon-colored hair. His nose had been broken but well set and it hadn’t been a collector’s item in the first place.
RAYMOND CHANDLER. The Little Sister (Kindle Locations 1364-1368). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

The boss mortician fluttered around making elegant little gestures and body movements as graceful as a Chopin ending. His composed gray face was long enough to wrap twice around his neck.
RAYMOND CHANDLER. The Little Sister (Kindle Locations 2162-2163). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

And, of course, there are plenty of wonderfully descriptive similes to set the mood:

Her voice was as cool as boarding-house soup.
RAYMOND CHANDLER. The Little Sister (Kindle Location 683). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

She had a low lingering voice with a sort of moist caress in it like a damp bath towel.
RAYMOND CHANDLER. The Little Sister (Kindle Locations 795-796). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

I smelled Los Angeles before I got to it. It smelled stale and old like a living room that had been closed too long.
RAYMOND CHANDLER. The Little Sister (Kindle Locations 1338-1339). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

I took the wrinkles out of my lips and said aloud:
“Hello again. Anybody here needing a detective?”
Nothing answered me, not even a stand-in for an echo. The sound of my voice fell on silence like a tired head on a swansdown pillow.
RAYMOND CHANDLER. The Little Sister (Kindle Locations 2985-2987). Delphi Classics. Kindle Edition.

Either you love this stuff, or you don’t. I think it’s great – despite Marlowe’s world-weariness, he loves LA and the losers who populate its seediest neighborhoods. He knows one man can’t make much difference in the world, but he never gives up trying.

Chandler wrote The Little Sister after he had had some very frustrating experiences as a screenwriter in Hollywood, and his contempt for Tinseltown is as clear as a bell. (Or maybe like “two dead fish in the silt at the bottom of a drained pool”, to borrow a simile!) The plot is difficult to unravel at times, and just when I thought I had things figured out, he throws a curveball to surprise. That said, the ending is very good, and I would rank The Little Sister as one of Chandler’s best. 

Music

Kevin Keller’s Arcadia – 37 Minutes of Musical Joy

Close shot of sun at sunset, Brussels, Belgium

I’ve been writing the praises of contemporary composer Kevin Keller for years now. It has been fascinating to see his evolution from an extremely talented “ambient” composer/musician into one of the most vital and engaging classical music composers in America.

Keller’s Evensong, which was released in 2023, was a beautiful set of chamber choir pieces. He has just released its sequel, Arcadia, which primarily features the vocals of Sofia Campoamor, backed by a small choir and piano with string trio. As is usual with Keller, he augments this traditional musical setting with discreet and tasteful electronic touches. There simply is no other contemporary composer who can combine ancient musical styles and instrumentation with 21st century electronics as skillfully and satisfyingly as Kevin Keller.

All of the songs in Arcadia are sung in Latin, which creates a reverent and calming atmosphere throughout. The opening track, Arcadia 1, is “Et Vidi Caelum” (“And I Saw the Sky”). Hushed acapella vocals begin the song and are soon joined by various acoustic and electronic instruments. As the melody develops slowly and deliberately, the listener is transported into a state of bliss. I know I’m sounding hyperbolic, but this is some of the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. The only thing I can compare it to is Thomas Tallis’ “Spem In Alium” or some of J. S. Bach’s fugues.

The second track, “Et Nox Ultra” (“And Night Is Over”) is a sprightly and wordless chant with a rhythmic bed of synths. It is full of anticipation for a new day. Arcadia 3, “Me Solum Me Invenio” (“I find myself alone”) is, appropriately, sung by Ms. Campoamor solo while accompanied by Keller on organ.

Kevin Keller and Sofia Campoamor

In Arcadia 4, “In Tenebris” (“In darkness”), the choir returns to sing a gentle lullaby accompanied by piano and string trio. As this song progresses, it becomes more insistent in its rhythm, but it maintains its control. It is one of the longer tracks at 6:22, and there is a beautiful, long coda that brings it to rest.

Arcadia 5 is “Mare, Littus, Flammam” (“Sea, Shore, Flame”), and you can hear waves gently washing ashore as Ms. Campoamor sings a melody that, to my ears, is full of longing. Her vocal is supported by a cello and soft electronics.

My favorite track is Arcadia 6: “In Equo Fugit” (“She flees on horseback”). It is introduced by a gentle pulse that is soon joined by the choir who sing an extraordinarily beautiful melody. I’m having a hard time conveying how delightful Keller’s music is here – it really is ineffable!

The final two tracks are “Et Lux Perpetua” (“And Eternal Light”) and “Veni Intus” (“Come Inside”) They bring our journey to a close with a very satisfying sense of returning to the comfort of a beloved sanctuary.

There is something very timely about the art Keller is creating these days. We live in such contentious times, which are exacerbated by social and news media.  Arcadia is a balm for the souls of people who need a respite from the 24/7 anxiety that our contemporary culture has a tendency to induce.

Spending 37 minutes listening to Kevin Keller’s Arcadia  is a great way to reset oneself – it is restorative and reminds us that true beauty still exists. I admire how Keller utilizes centuries-old forms of music to compose and perform new and refreshing music. He recognizes the precious worth of classic art, while building on it and adding his unique and immediately recognizable style. Here’s hoping Arcadia sparks a renaissance in contemporary classical music. Keller is planting a seed that promises to bear fruit to a world that is starved for music with lasting substance and beauty.

Arcadia is produced and performed by Kevin Keller. Sofia Campoamor sings lead vocals, while Katherine Wessinger, Danya Katok, and Wendy Baker form the choir. Sarah Zun plays violin, Angela Pickett viola, and Laura Metcalf cello.

You can purchase Arcadia at https://www.kevinkeller.com/arcadia.

LITERATURE

Cather’s Death Comes For The Archbishop: A Good and Faithful Servant

I enjoyed Willa Cather’s My Antonia so much, I immediately started reading her Death Comes For The Archbishop. They are completely unrelated to each other, except they are both concerned with how people lived on the frontier of nineteenth century America. Death Comes For The Archbishop is set in the mid-1800s in the new territory of New Mexico. A young Roman Catholic priest, Jean Marie Latour, has been named bishop to this enormous, wild, and mostly lawless area of the southwest. He sets up his base in the small settlement of Santa Fe. 

From the title, one might think this is a mystery novel, but it is not that at all! Rather, it is the story of how two Roman Catholic missionaries from France serve various peoples with grace, sensitivity, and love. Latour’s best friend, Father Joseph Vaillant, accompanies him in his new placement. They first met in seminary in Clermont, France, and became fast friends, even though they are almost polar opposites. Physically, Fr. Vaillant is short, unattractive, and full of restless energy. Fr. Latour is tall, handsome, graceful and intellectual. Where there is a spiritual need, Vaillant wants to rush in to address it, while Latour tends to observe, take stock of the situation, and consider the long game.

Cather makes the point that these two approaches complement each other, and both are necessary for effective ministry (I owe this insight to Joel Miller’s excellent review of Death Comes For The Archbishop on his Substack, Miller’s Book Reviews.) The ministry Latour and Vaillant are assigned is daunting to say the least: a huge territory that encompasses most of what is now Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado. There are villages of Catholics that have not seen a priest in years. Men and women have paired up, without being married. Their children have not been baptized. 

Another pressing issue is Father Martinez of Taos, a very powerful and corrupt priest who refuses to recognize the authority of Bishop Latour. When Latour visits him, he flaunts his women and children and asserts that celibacy can no longer be enforced. He is also responsible for inciting a raid on the new American authorities where several men and women were brutally slaughtered by natives. As the famous Kit Carson relates to Latour, 

Our Padre Martinez at Taos is an old scapegrace, if ever there was one; he’s got children  and grandchildren in almost every settlement around here.
(Location 855, Standard ebooks edition)

Martinez tries to set up a schismatic church, but rather than force the issue, as Vaillant urges, Latour chooses to let Martinez slowly lose influence and followers as the true Church reasserts itself in the region.

While reading Death Comes For The Archbishop, I was impressed with the efforts these French Catholics take to serve their parishioners. They traveled literally thousands of miles on horseback through some of the most inhospitable land on earth. Often, there were no roads, let alone any maps, and every trip was life-threatening. And yet, Latour’s and Vaillant’s love for their flock enabled them to effectively administer to a diocese that was thousands of square miles in size.

One of Latour’s most impressive qualities is his ability to connect with wildly different groups of people. He relates to the lowliest Mexicans in his diocese, the wealthy landowners, and the various indigenous peoples like the Hopis and the Navajo. He forges deep friendships with members of all these constituencies. As far as the Native Americans go, he respects their traditions and doesn’t try to make them “European”. There is one fascinating chapter where he and his Indian guide, Jacinto, get caught in a deadly snowstorm. Jacinto manages to reach shelter in a cave. There is something about the cave that immediately causes Latour much discomfort. Jacinto tells Latour he must never reveal that he has been in this cave. He sees Jacinto carefully fill in a hole in the wall from which a stench is issuing. Latour is aware of tales that Jacinto’s tribe has offered human sacrifices to a “giant serpent” who lives in the mountain. However, once again, Latour doesn’t press the issue, and we never learn just what it is that causes Latour his distress.

Vaillant feels called to go to believers in Arizona, and there is constant tension between Latour’s desire to have his best friend nearby and allowing him to satisfy his calling. As the novel progresses, both men see the hand of God in the decisions they make. Early on, there’s an interesting conversation between them about the Virgin of Guadalupe:

“Where there is great love there are always miracles,” he [Latour] said at length. “One might almost say that an apparition is human vision corrected by divine love. I do not see you as you really are, Joseph, I see you through my affection for you. The Miracles of the Church seem to me to rest not so much upon faces or voices or healing power coming suddenly near to us from afar off, but upon our perceptions being made finer, so that for a moment our eyes can see and our ears can hear what is there about us always.”
(Location 572, Standard Ebooks edition)

Just like in My Antonia, Cather does a masterful job of describing the beauty of the southwest desert. She truly is a visual artist whose medium is words:

The sky was as full of motion and change as the desert beneath it was monotonous and still – and there was so much sky, more than at sea, more than anywhere else in the world. The plain was there, under one’s feet, but what one saw when one looked about was that brilliant blue world of stinging air and moving cloud. Even the mountains were mere anthills under it. Elsewhere the sky is the roof of the world; but here the earth was the floor of the sky. The landscape one longed for when one was far away, the thing all about one, the world one actually lived in, was the sky, the sky!
(Location 224, Standard Ebooks edition)

As the title says, death does eventually come for Archbishop Latour, but not before we have an opportunity to reflect on a life well-lived. He served God and the Church to the best of his ability, and he left an extraordinary legacy in the wild expanse of southwest America. I’m not a Roman Catholic, but this book made me profoundly grateful for the unsung heroes of that Church who risked everything to bring the Faith to the most inaccessible areas of the world. Cather’s novel is a beautiful tribute to them.

Music

A Debate On Depeche Mode

Greetings, Spirit of Cecilia readers! In this post, Brad Birzer and Tad Wert discuss a musical artist that may surprise you: Depeche Mode. These boys from Basildon, England burst on the scene in 1981 with the bouncy synthpop hit, “Just Can’t Get Enough”, and their first album, Speak and Spell, was a big hit. At the time, they seemed to be just one among many British synthpop groups that were popular due to MTV exposure in the US. Vince Clarke was their songwriter and synthplayer, while Martin Gore and Andrew Fletcher also handled synths and Dave Gahan provided vocals. They were famous for performing live without any guitars or drums. They also appeared to be doomed to “one-hit wonder” status when leader Vince Clarke left immediately following Speak and Spell. However, they had a secret weapon in Martin Gore, who stepped up and began writing songs. After the tentative album A Broken Frame was released, they added multitalented Alan Wilder to the lineup and released their first really great album, Construction Time Again, which contained the massive hit, “Everything Counts”. 

Depeche Mode has ended up outlasting all of their ‘80s synthpop peers, releasing music of surprising depth and beauty despite suffering trials that would end most artists’ careers: Alan Wilder left in frustration after Songs of Faith and Devotion, Dave Gahan survived a near-death experience from a heroin overdose, and Andrew Fletcher passed away in 2022. And yet, Gore and Gahan continue to release new music, and they remain an outstanding live act. 

Brad, I think you wanted to focus on later-era Depeche Mode, beginning with Black Celebration. Kick off the discussion!

Brad: Hello, Tad!  My friend, my colleague, my writing partner, my fellow progling.  Always great to dialogue with you.  

Ok, I admit, I’m pretty uninformed when it comes to Depeche Mode.  Of course, I’m familiar with them–as any child of the 1980s would be–but I don’t know them, really know them!  That is, whereas I knew everything there was to know about Rush or Talk Talk or, later, Big Big Train, I know next to nothing about the band.  I didn’t study their history or analyze their lyrics to any great degree. That is, I never obsessed over the band or considered them “my band.”  They evoked in me some fascination rather than loyalty.  And, when I did look them up prepping for this discussion, I find that they consider themselves Marxists.  Not a winning point for me, to be sure.

That said, in high school, I was rather taken with Black Celebration (the lyrics still resonate with me, and I very much like the production and the flow of the songs–all of which struck me, at the time, as rather proggy), though I’ve not listened to it in years–though I am now as I’m typing this.  I also bought Music for the Masses, which I appreciated but didn’t love.  And, like almost everyone our age, I had a copy of 101.  From my memory, everyone owned Black Celebration and, even more so, 101.  They were just a standard part of one’s music collection at the time.

Before I get to Songs of Faith and Devotion, let me just note that I’m very much enjoying my re-listen to Black Celebration as I type all of this.  It’s been years and years since I last heard it. I had forgotten that the songs really bleed one into another which is something I always appreciate.  And, even though this album dates back to 1986, the production and engineering is impeccable.  And, again, my memory did not deceive me–this is a very proggy album.  Even the second track, Fly on the Windscreen, seems to reference Peter-Gabriel Era Genesis.  Even the fourth track, the Gospel-tinged “Sometimes,” seems like a fragment, much like Yes’s “White Car” does on Drama.  A pop album would’ve never taken a risk like that.  Track number five, “It Doesn’t Matter Two,” sounds very much like Trevor Horn produced it.

Then, side two begins with the sixth track, “A Question of Time,” a brilliant track musically, but with very disturbing lyrics.  Track seven, “Stripped,” while again quite disturbing in its lyrics, is quite proggy in its dirge-like drive.  It merges quite nicely into a poppy eighth track, “Here is the House.”  The ninth track, “World Full of Nothing,” one against quite innovative musically, is deeply disturbing lyrically–a song about the loss of sexual innocence.  “Dressed in Black,” track 10, is about lust, and track 11, the final track, “New Dress,” is about social conformity and celebrity adoration and rather humorous in its scathing cultural critique.

Tad, what can I say?  I’m glad to have returned to Black Celebration, an album of fascinating music and deeply disturbing lyrics.  Because of the lyrics, I probably won’t return to this album again anytime soon.

Tad: Yes, Brad, I agree – there is always tension between the wonderful melodies Martin Gore conjures up and his very dark lyrics. I was not aware that they consider themselves Marxists – hopefully that was a youthful phase that they outgrew! 

As I’ve mentioned before, for me personally, lyrics take second place behind music. However, there are times when the darkness of Gore’s lyrics are unavoidable (“Blasphemous Rumours” being the most obvious example). I have all of Depeche Mode’s albums, and Black Celebration has never been high on my list. Your pointing out its proggy aspects has piqued my interest, however, and I am listening to it now as I write. 

“Stripped” has always been my favorite song from this album – the music itself is very stripped-down, and the tune is quite simple and arresting. I think Gahan’s and Gore’s vocals work together beautifully, and I love the way the production gradually adds layers of sound, while that clanking rhythm track never lets up. It also contains a great line that has turned out to be extremely prescient:

“Let me hear you make decisions without your television

Let me hear you speaking just for me”

Replace “television” with “social media” and you have our current culture nailed.

Black Celebration was followed by one of my favorite albums of theirs – Music For The Masses. The opening track, “Never Let Me Down” is probably my all-time favorite song. The opening hook is simply incredible, and I never tire of hearing it. Also, this is the album Martin decided to branch out and play some guitar! It’s interesting how incorporating that instrument immediately adds warmth to their music.

“Sacred” is a very nice song where Gore uses ecclesiastical images and metaphors to illustrate his love for someone. I think this is the album where Alan Wilder came into his own as far as contributing to the overall sound. Every song is chock-full of interesting samples (and sometimes perverse ones, like the wheezing accordion that opens “I Want You Now”!) and the array of synth sounds is employed in a more orchestral manner. “To Have and To Hold” is one of the most menacing and claustrophobic tracks they ever recorded, and it makes the more open and melodic “Nothing” a positive relief, despite the utter nihilism of the lyrics. And, again, there’s some really nice guitar work in “Nothing”. Overall, I think Music For The Masses is their strongest album to this point, even with the inclusion of the now-cringy “Little 15”.

Another reason I like MFTM is it was the album behind the tour documented in the 101 film. I love this movie! It captures mid-80s America very well. What I like most about it is that it doesn’t take itself seriously. There is a lot of humor throughout, and the footage from the final concert at the Rose Bowl is absolutely stunning. It makes it clear why Depeche Mode was such a popular band, even though they got relatively little airplay on the radio in the US. They put on an incredible show and earned their fans through touring.

On a side note, there is a scene in 101 where they go shopping on Lower Broad in my hometown of Nashville, and the sight of a leather-clad bleached-blonde Martin Gore buying country music cassettes in Ernest Tubb’s record store cracks me up every time! The sweet little lady cashier doesn’t bat an eye at him as she informs him that they can ship music all over the world.

Following Music For The Masses was the album that turned Depeche Mode into massively huge international stars – Violator. Do you have only thoughts on that one, my friend?

Brad: Tad, I’m so sorry, I really, really dislike Violator, so I’m probably not the one to review it.  I heard it when it first came out, and I thought it was ok.  Listening now, however, to it is, for me, painful.  I very much dislike “Personal Jesus,” “Enjoy the Silence,” and “Policy of Truth.”  I especially dislike the kind of spoken rather than sung lyrics, and I really dislike the lyrics, overall.  The only song I like–and I do like it quite a bit, musically–is “Waiting for the Night” though its lyrics seem creepily sexual.  I also somewhat like the final track, “Clean,” though I wish, lyrically, this song had come first and had erased the previous lyrics of the album.

Again, I apologize, Tad.  I’m not trying to be a spoilsport here.  But, the album just annoys me exceedingly.

On a more positive note, I need to listen to Music for the Masses.  I’m guessing–and it is a guess–that I’ve not heard it since 1987 or so?  I actually remember buying it at my local record store in Hutchinson, Kansas, and the record store owner actually gave me a hard time for it.  That cracked me up rather than bothered me, but I didn’t take to the album.  

Reading your review, though, makes me want to go back and listen to it.  I very much appreciate your enthusiasm.  I do remember liking “Never Let Me Down Again” and “Strangelove” and “Pimpf.”  I’m sure I misunderstood the album, though, as I thought–at least back in the late 1980s–that it was a Gay anthem, something like “We are the Champions” by Queen.

Regardless, I did really like Songs of Faith and Devotion, though I think the production is off a bit.  Whereas the production on Black Celebration is really crisp, Songs of Faith and Devotion sounds like the band was recording under heavy blankets.  It could definitely use a Steven Wilson remix!

That said, I like the album both lyrically and musically.  I actually really like the use of guitar on this one.  I especially like “Higher Love,” the final track.  A beautiful way to conclude the album.

Tad: Okay, Brad, tell us how you really feel about Violator 😄! I happen to enjoy it a lot. I agree with you about “Personal Jesus”; it was the album’s big hit, and I have never understood its popularity. It has always struck as being stupidly simplistic: twangy faux-country guitar with the shouted tagline, “Reach out and touch me!” Like you, I think “Waiting for the Night” is a good song. I imagine it as the theme song of a low budget vampire movie.

However, I have to disagree with you about “Enjoy the Silence”. I think this is a great song, with a fantastic guitar line. Instead of cheesy twang, it has just the right amount of reverb. The song’s hook is very good, but I’ll admit the lyrics are troubling: “Vows are spoken to be broken” sounds like a pathetic pickup line. I can overlook them, because the melody line is so strong. As the song progresses, it just takes off and soars. 

I also like “Policy of Truth” because of its slinky bassline and swooping synths. Once again, I ignore the lyrics and just appreciate the wicked groove of this track. I cannot listen to it and sit still! 

Okay, with Songs of Faith and Devotion, three years had elapsed since Violator. Dave Gahan had moved to Los Angeles and got caught up in the rock scene there. When they reconvened to record Songs, he was lobbying for a rawk and roll record. They decided to rent a villa in Spain and live and record there together. Hot young producer Flood was hired to oversee things. It was a disaster. Gahan was using heroin, Gore was barely speaking with Alan Wilder, who was doing yeoman’s work with Flood trying to pull things together. Fletcher was caught in the middle. All things considered, it’s amazing they got enough good music to release an album.

When I first heard Songs, I didn’t like it at all. Over the years, though, I’ve grown to appreciate it for what it is: an attempt to inject some raw emotion and energy into their music. I think Gahan’s vocals on “Condemnation” are some of the finest of his career. And I believe “Higher Love” is one of their all-time greatest songs. It is just so beautiful how it begins barely audible and inexorably builds to an amazing climax. It truly is a song of faith and devotion. 

The SOFAD tour is legendary for the excessive indulgences Depeche Mode engaged in. After it concluded, Alan Wilder announced he was leaving the group. Dave Gahan overdosed in America, and he went into rehab. It was three years before they began work on what is another all-time favorite album of mine: Ultra. Once again, it’s a miracle they were able to cobble an album together. With Wilder gone, they were once again a trio, and the onus was on Martin Gore to come up with some decent songs. I think he delivered, but apparently Dave was barely able to sing anything. According to Tim Simenon, the producer, they had to cut and paste some of his vocals into the digital tracks line by line. That said, there are some fantastic songs here: “The Love Thieves”, “It’s No Good”, “Useless”, “Sister of Night”, and another all-time favorite, “Home”, which is sung by Martin. When I hear it in the context of the album’s genesis, I have to believe “Home” is Martin’s song of concern and caring for his friend Dave, who was struggling to overcome his drug addiction.

I love the way Ultra flows – there are a couple of short instrumental tracks that link and set up larger ones, and they help create a unified work. Ultra was a transitional album that proved Martin, Dave, and Andrew could still make great music as a trio, and it allowed them to regain their balance. 

Brad: Wow, Tad, I had no idea about any of this regarding the band.  I had no idea about the drugs, the fights, etc.  All totally new to me.  And, admittedly, it doesn’t make me like the band any more than I already didn’t.  

As to Ultra, though, I think this is by far the best thing I’ve heard from the band, and I’d go even beyond this–it’s a truly great album.  From its opening moments to its conclusion, this album really grips me.  I had no idea that Gahan was so out of it–for the vocals perfectly match the production and flow of the album, though I like the instrumental tracks the best.  I especially like “Home” with its orchestration and aching vocals, the quirky but proggy “Uselink” and “Jazz Thieves” and “Jr. Painkiller,” and the triumphant “Freestate.”

Again, though, Tad, I apologize.  I generally don’t like reviewing music I don’t like, and I just find myself in very little sympathy with this band.  C.S Lewis once said that no one unsympathetic to a genre should review within that genre.  He was talking about literature, but I think it applies to music as well.  

For what it’s worth, though, I very much appreciate your enthusiasm, and I very much appreciate that I had a chance to revisit the band, despite my own negativity.

Tad: And I appreciate your candor, Brad. It’s funny how you and I are completely in sync with so much music and so many artists, but we have wildly divergent takes on this one group. Thank you for taking the time to listen and give them a chance. 

After Ultra, they took an extended hiatus, and finally released Exciter in 2001. It’s not bad, but with the exception of “Dream On”, nothing really grabs me. There is a new maturity and confidence in their music, I think. They are all healthy and seem to be comfortable making an album on their own schedule. 

I will close with a brief word of praise for Exciter’s followup, Playing the Angel. This is the last “great” Depeche Mode album in my opinion (at least up to this point – they’re still releasing music!). From the opening screech of “A Pain That I’m Used To” through the bluesy “John The Revelator” and moody “Nothing’s Impossible”, this is a very good album with no filler. The best track is the single, “Precious”, which seems to be a father’s lament for an ailing child. It has a beautiful melody, and the lyrics are quite tender.

I saw Depeche Mode live on their Spirit tour, and they were full of energy as they connected with the audience. Now that Andrew has passed away, it’s just Martin and Dave carrying the torch. Dave has contributed several nice songs to the last few albums, which has relieved Martin, I imagine. 

So there you have it, SoC followers – two very different perspectives on one of the longest-lived and popular groups from the ‘80s. Next, Brad and Tad will discuss another big ‘80s act, Boy George and Culture Club! Okay, I’m kidding – we will NOT be covering that one; there are some limits to even Tad’s tolerance for ‘80s pop music.

fiction, LITERATURE

Willa Cather’s My Antonia: A Beautiful Ode to Prairie Life

I’ve been intending to read Willa Cather’s My Antonia for a few years, since my writer and historian friend, Bradley Birzer, raved about it. (You can read his brilliant take on Cather here.) It’s in the public domain, so I had no excuse and downloaded a free copy. And here I have to confess that I regret having waited so long to read it! From the opening sentence, I was captivated by Cather’s clear and succinct prose. 

The Antonia of the title is a young Czech woman whom the narrator, Jim Burden, sees on a train heading out to Nebraska in the late 1800s, probably around 1880. Jim is ten years old, both his parents have died, and he is leaving his home in Virginia to live with his grandparents on their farm on the prairie. Antonia Shimerdas is fourteen, and she is traveling with her family – newly arrived to America – who hope to make a new life farming in the same vicinity as the Burden’s. Her family consists of her father, mother, older brother Ambrosch, and her little sister, Yulka. From the start, they are at a disadvantage, because they overpaid for a sod house and land that they hope to farm. Poor Mr. Shimerdas is out of his depth – he was a skilled weaver back in Eastern Europe, and he knows nothing about farming. Ambrosch is a haard worker, but mistrustful and a little devious. Mrs. Shimerdas is very proud and has an extremely difficult time adjusting to their new circumstances. For Antonia, however, life is a grand adventure. She and Jim immediately strike up a friendship, and she quickly picks up English. Her openness and sincere delight in everyone and everything around her are her best qualities. 

As I read My Antonia, I was really struck by how important community was to prairie dwellers. During the first winter, a severe snowstorm hits, and Jim’s grandmother, Jim, and their indefatigable hired hand, Otto, brave the elements to bring some food and supplies to the Shimerdas. It’s no exaggeration to say this act of neighborly kindness saves Antonia’s family from starvation.

The prairie itself is a major character in the book. I loved Cather’s vivid descriptions of it in all seasons. Here’s one set in autumn:

All those fall afternoons were the same, but I never got used to them. As far as we could see, the miles of copper-red grass were drenched in sunlight that was stronger and fiercer than at any other time of the day. The blond cornfields were red and gold, the haystacks turned rosy and threw long shadows. The whole prairie was like the bush that burned with fire and was not consumed.
(Location 488, Standard Ebooks Edition)

Each chapter is a self-contained vignette that adds up to a powerful and satisfying whole. Jim’s grandparents decide to rent their farm and move to the local town of Black Hawk, so Jim can attend school. Antonia doesn’t go to school, because Ambrosch insists she work on their farm, as well as hire herself out to other farms when they need an extra hand. She is very proud of her ability to do a man’s work, but she regrets not getting a good education.

Grandfather Burden gets Antonia a job keeping house for his neighbors in town, the Harlings, and Antonia thrives there. She helps with the children, the cooking, and the cleaning. She also falls in love with dancing under a big tent that is set up in the town square for that purpose. Jim also enjoys dancing with the girls and Antonia on the weekends. Their friendship deepens as they both grow older, but it never tips over into romance. It comes close, though! 

Another important aspect of prairie life was faith. Here’s how the Burden’s celebrate one Christmas:

On Christ­mas morn­ing, when I got down to the kitchen, the men were just com­ing in from their morn­ing chores—the hors­es and pigs al­ways had their break­fast be­fore we did. Jake and Ot­to shout­ed “Mer­ry Christ­mas!” to me, and winked at each oth­er when they saw the waf­fle-irons on the stove. Grand­fa­ther came down, wear­ing a white shirt and his Sun­day coat. Morn­ing prayers were longer than usu­al. He read the chap­ters from St. Matthew about the birth of Christ, and as we lis­tened, it all seemed like some­thing that had hap­pened late­ly, and near at hand. In his prayer he thanked the Lord for the first Christ­mas, and for all that it had meant to the world ev­er since. He gave thanks for our food and com­fort, and prayed for the poor and des­ti­tute in great cities, where the strug­gle for life was hard­er than it was here with us. Grand­fa­ther’s prayers were of­ten very in­ter­est­ing. He had the gift of sim­ple and mov­ing ex­pres­sion. Be­cause he talked so lit­tle, his words had a pe­cu­liar force; they were not worn dull from con­stant use. His prayers re­flect­ed what he was think­ing about at the time, and it was chiefly through them that we got to know his feel­ings and his views about things.
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Life was very hard, yet for most people young Jim came into contact with, there was much joy. People had few possessions, yet they had rich lives. As the quote above makes clear, those living on the prairie considered themselves better off than city dwellers. They were responsible for their own entertainment; for example, Mrs. Harling and her daughters were accomplished pianists who loved to play for people. When a traveling troupe comes to town one summer to offer dancing lessons, all the families flock to them and make it a festive event. I would say the defining feeling of the time was optimism – in a relatively young America everyone had boundless hope and a belief that they could succeed.

In the final section of the book, Jim – who has gotten a law degree and moved to New York City – returns to Nebraska to see if he can find Antonia. He does, and he gives us this tender portrait of her in her middle age:

She was a battered woman now, not a lovely girl; but she still had that something which fires the imagination, could still stop one’s breath for a moment by a look or gesture that somehow revealed the meaning in common things. She had only to stand in the orchard, put her hand on a little crab tree and look up at the apples, to make you feel the goodness of planting and tending and harvesting at last.
(Location 3684, Standard Ebooks Edition)

My Antonia  is deservedly a classic of American literature. As Jim and his friends mature, so does the country, becoming less agricultural and more urban. The pace of life increases, and modernity begins to intrude. My Antonia is a paean to a bygone era of American life when life was fraught with peril, but also held out almost infinite promise. In our own day, it’s common for neighbors on the same street of a city to not know each other at all. In Antonia’s time, everyone knew everyone and felt some responsibility for each other’s welfare. At the close of the first quarter of the twenty-first century, we have so much in terms of material comfort, but we have lost much, as well.

Music

More Classical Favorites: The 20th Century

This is the third and final post I’ll write sharing my favorite albums of classical music. I’ll be devoting my picks to twentieth century composers, and I’d like to start with France’s Claude Debussy, and an album with a generous helping of his music

La Mer  is one of Debussy’s most well known works. It is a big departure from composers like Beethoven, in that he creates an atmosphere through music that doesn’t appear to have a beginning, middle, or end. It’s beautiful and completely tonal, and it does a great job of conjuring images of the ocean. This album also includes the delightful Prélude À L’Aprés-Midi D’Un Faune. Charles Dutoit conducts the Orchestre Symphonique De Montreal in these performances from 1990.

Also from France is Maurice Ravel, and my favorite album of his music is again performed by Charles Dutoit with the Orchestre Symphonique De Montreal. 

Ravel is perhaps best known for Bolero, but I find myself returning to these relatively short works. They are very melodic and soothing – like Debussy, they are evocative of various scenes. These pieces date from the early 1900s, and they are like impressionistic paintings, but in musical terms.

Another French composer (last one, I promise!) that is a favorite is Erik Satie. He was an eccentric guy, and I don’t think his contemporaries appreciated his genius. Since his death, his Gymnopedies have been recorded countless times, especially in orchestral form. He was “New Age” decades before that genre appeared. 

This album is all solo piano pieces performed by Pascal Roge, and it is delightful. On first listen, the melodies seem childishly simple, but they have surprising depth. This album from 1984 is one of my all-time favorites.

While we’re on the subject of piano music, another favorite collection of pieces is Water Music of the Impressionists, performed by Carol Rosenberger. It includes water-themed works by Liszt, Griffes, Ravel, and Debussy.

Another Delos Records production, it sounds fantastic, and the program is a lot of fun and relaxing.

Over in England, a favorite composer of mine was Ralph Vaughan Williams. This album collects several serenades and suites that are all very relaxing and pleasant. 

The standout track on this album is the violin showpiece, The Lark Ascending. It is nearly fifteen minutes of musical bliss, in which time seems to stand still. It is an astonishingly beautiful piece of music.

Sir Adrian Boult was one of Vaughan Williams’s most sympathetic interpreters, and if you like this album, I encourage you to get all of his symphonies performed by Boult.

It’s time to up the energy level, so let’s take a look at a classic album from the RCA Records vault: Sergei Rachmaninoff’s Concerto No. 2 and Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini,  performed by the pianist Artur Rubinstein with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra conducted by Fritz Reiner.

This is unabashedly romantic music that sounds amazing, given it was recorded in 1956. The Rhapsody got a new lease on life when it was featured in the movie Somewhere In Time, starring Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour. It’s a beautiful and moving piece that has wonderful melodies.

Over in the United States, some strange things were happening – an insurance salesman named Charles Ives was pursuing his unique vision of a classical music that celebrated America and its optimism as it entered the twentieth century. 

Ives was decades ahead of his time, and his music is weird and fun at the same time. Central Park in the Dark is meant to portray the experience of sitting on a bench in Central Park as various bands and singing groups play around you while “a fire engine, a cab horse runs away, lands ‘over the fence and out'”. You can hear snatches of popular songs like “Camptown Races” and “Turkey in the Straw” in the Holidays Symphony. 

One of America’s greatest composers in the twentieth century was George Gershwin. My favorite album of his music is this one performed by Michael Tilson Thomas and the Los Angeles Philharmonic

Most people are familiar with the heavily orchestrated version of Rhapsody In Blue. Tilson went back to the original 1924 version and performs it with a small ensemble. The result is amazing, as it swings like crazy. The Preludes for Piano are fantastic, bouncy works. The closing track, Promenade, is from a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie, Shall We Dance. This is a perfect album to play during a cocktail party.

In Italy, Ottorino Respighi was resurrecting sixteenth and seventeenth century songs and incorporating them into his music. The results were his three suites of Ancient Airs and Dances. 

I may be cheating here, because these melodies date from the Baroque era, but Respighi composed his suites in the twentieth. Regardless, this a wonderful album, and Seiji Ozawa with the Boston Symphony Orchestra turns in a lively performance. This is classical music music that makes you want to dance!

My favorite composer of the twentieth century is Igor Stravinsky. He is to modern classical music what Miles Davis was to jazz – a trailblazer who is not afraid to change. Stravinsky challenged the musical status quo, but he never lost his appreciation for classic forms. His later music was even very conservative, compared to what other composers were doing. I have to highlight three of his most famous works: The Firebird, Petrouchka, and Le Sacre du Printemps (The Rite of Spring). 

All three are performed by Charles Dutoit and the Orchestre Symphonique De Montreal. These three works were groundbreaking when they were first performed, and they continue to be quoted from in popular culture. 

Finally, a couple of albums that feature more than one composer, but they are both ones that I return to repeatedly.

First, this classic album from RCA Victor: Alan Hohvaness’s Mysterious Mountain, Prokofiev’s Lieutenant Kije Suite, and Stravinsky’s The Fairy’s Kiss: Divertimento.

Fritz Reiner and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra do an outstanding job with these three works, and the sonics are incredible for a 65-year-old recording. I could do an entire post on how much I love Hovhaness’s music. He was a very prolific composer, with at least 67 known symphonies and countless other pieces. He was a lover of tonality and melody, and his music deserves to be better known.

Prokofiev’s Lieutenant Kije Suite is an extremely enjoyable piece that sparkles and delights, while the Stravinsky piece is excellent as well. This is an album with a near-perfect program of modern music.

The last album I’ll recommend is another one from Delos, and it features Stravinsky’s The Soldier’s Tale, Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony, and Dimitri Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 1.

The Soldier’s Tale is a folk tale of a Russian soldier who makes a Faustian bargain with the devil. In return for his violin, the devil gives him a book that enables him to amass a fortune. The soldier soon finds out that money does not equal happiness. Stravinsky’s soundtrack is scored for a very small ensemble. He composed it during WWI in Switzerland, and he wanted it to easy to produce. The music is very rhythmic and energetic, with lots of nice melodies.

Prokofiev’s Classical Symphony is only 13 minutes long, and it’s like a rollercoaster ride. It’s very accessible and fun. The Shostakovich Piano Concerto features Carol Rosenberger, and she turns in a fine performance.

Bonus! A Brief Look at Minimalism

At the tail end of the twentieth century, a new style of music, Minimalism became quite popular. Most people trace its origin to Terry Riley’s In C. This style is characterized by repetitive phrases under which themes gradually develop. It is the antithesis of atonality, but it also doesn’t owe much to traditional ideas of melody. I personally enjoy it, but there have been a lot derivative and unoriginal music made under the Minimalist label. Here are four albums that I think are worth checking out:

This is the one album that is the best representative of what Minimalism is about. Reich’s Variations for Winds, Strings, and Keyboards is engaging and very enjoyable, while Adams’s Shaker Loops is a classic of the genre. I highly recommend this one.

Philip Glass is probably the most famous Minimalist composer. I went to a concert of his and got a headache – the music was very amplified and relentless. This album has no electronic instruments, and it is very enjoyable. I listen to it often.

Daniel Lentz is an interesting artist. He likes to take spoken and sung phrases, chop them up, throw them back together in random ways, and see what happens. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. On On the Leopard Altar, it mostly works. I’m including it, because it contains one of the most ethereal and incredibly calming pieces of music I’ve ever heard: Lascaux. This piece is performed entirely on rubbed and struck wineglasses. It’s indescribably beautiful.

I’ll close this long(!) post with what I consider to be a true contemporary classic: Arvo Part’s Tabula Rasa.

Part would resent my including him in the Minimalsit camp. He describes his music as tintinnabulation. Nevertheless, it has a lot of repetition, but in a way that serves a greater purpose. Part is a devout Orthodox Christian, and he is familiar with Hesychastic prayers – simple prayers that are repeated over and over. His music is an attempt to express his faith. He uses silence and simplicity, and the results are extremely moving. His music truly is timeless.

I hope this post has piqued your curiosity and you make some enjoyable new musical discoveries!

Music

An Appreciation of Classical Music, Part 2

In my previous post, I explained that while I am no expert in classical music, I do know what I like, and I’m happy to share my favorites. I know there are large gaps in my recommendations – no Haydn, Wagner, Mendelsohn, opera, etc. – but if you’re new to this genre, these albums are a good way to stick your toe in the water.

This post will focus primarily on two composers: Mozart and Beethoven. To start things off for Mozart, I’m recommending Murray Perahia’s performance of his Piano Concerti Nos. 19 & 23 with the English Chamber Orchestra.

I have all of Mozart’s piano concerti by Perahia, and this album is the one I play the most often. It is sprightly, charming, and the recording itself is excellent. Every time I put it on the stereo, it’s like sitting down with an old friend.

Next is an album of three of Mozart’s symphonies, Nos. 28, 29, and 35, “Haffner”, conducted by Claudio Abbado with the Berlin Philharmonic. These were recorded in the early ’90s, and they sound terrific. No. 35, “Haffner”, especially gives my stereo system a real workout. These symphonies are all beautiful pieces of music. I appreciate how polished and precise they are: No. 29 is the longest at just 30 minutes. 

Mozart also wrote wonderful string quartets, and two of my favorites are on this album: The Hunt and Dissonance. The first time I heard the latter, my jaw dropped; its intro sounds like something composed in the early twentieth century!

Next is an album of just fun works by Mozart, including one of the most recognizable pieces in all of music – his Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. These are relatively old recordings from the early 1960s, but Bruno Walter is my favorite conductor, so that’s why I listen to this album. 

To conclude my Mozart favorites, I’m featuring his Requiem, once again conducted by Walter. This work gives me chills every time I listen to it. This recording is mono, but I still love it. As a bonus, the album also include Bruckner’s beautiful Te Deum.

I’ve just scratched the surface of the incredible catalog of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. His Horn Concertos are delightful, as well as his Clarinet, Bassoon, and Oboe Concertos. Basically, you can’t go wrong with anything he wrote – it’s all good.

Beethoven took the symphony form and made it into his own. My favorite piece of classical music, bar none, is his Symphony No. 6 “Pastorale”. I use it as my morning alarm on my phone every day. I’ve listened to it probably more than any other classical work, and I have yet to tire of it. It never fails to lift my spirit. 

Naturally, I picked Bruno Walter’s performance! Don’t ask me why, but I find his conducting to be enjoyable and illuminating. 

Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, “Chorale”, with its “Ode To Joy” in the Finale is another very familiar work. I couldn’t decide which performance to recommend, so I wimped out and offer you two: Leonard Bernstein with the NY Philharmonic from 1969, and Wilhelm Furtwangler with the Beyreuth Festival Orchestra from 1955. If you ever wondered whether a conductor can make a difference in an orchestra’s performance, compare these two! Bernstein’s is relatively straightforward, while Furtwangler’s seems all over the place, yet strangely compelling. I’ve read that he made all kinds of weird gestures while conducting, yet he managed to elicit very exciting performances from his musicians.

Another classic recording by Furtwangler is his Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, paired with Schubert’s Symphony No. 8, “Unfinished”. Both are from the 1950s and are mono, but they are great fun. Schubert was one of the most gifted composers in terms of coming up with beautiful melodies.

Leaving Beethoven, I turn to an album that features two very moving and beautiful requiems, one by Gabriel Faure and the other by Maurice Durufle. These are performed by Robert Shaw with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, they are perfect to listen to on a quiet Sunday afternoon. 

I’ll wrap this post up with Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 “Titan”. Mahler took the symphony to its limit, with his Symphony No. 2 “Resurrection” running over 80 minutes long. His first symphony, though, is an easy listen with lots of folk melodies to hum along to.

Which brings us to the twentieth century. In my next post, I’ll focus on some French, Russian, and American composers. I wish you pleasant listening experiences!

Music

An Appreciation of Classical Music (From Someone Who Knows Nothing About It)

I would like to share some of my favorite albums of classical music. I make no claims to be an expert – I can’t play an instrument and I can’t read music. There are huge gaps in my knowledge, but I know what I like, and these recordings have given me hours of pleasure over the years. As I feature them, it will become clear that I have some definite favorites in terms of composers, conductors, and performers. I’m sure there are better performances available; all I know is what I enjoy. I have a definite bias towards 20th century composers, because that’s the century I’ve lived most of my life. That said, I’m not a fan of atonal music – if it doesn’t have a nice melody, I’m not going to spend much time with it.

Let’s begin with the earliest composer in my collection: Thomas Tallis (1505 – 1585).

 This recording of Spem In Alium (“Hope in Any Other”) is incredible. It is nine minutes of sheer heaven. Performed by 8(!) 5-part choirs, the music slowly develops and blends into a complex yet comprehensible polyphonic thing of beauty. If a gothic cathedral could be transformed into music, it would sound like this. 

Next is probably one of the most well-known pieces of classical music ever: Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons.

There is usually a good reason a work is enduringly popular, and The Four Seasons proves it. This is an immensely enjoyable suite of music that never fails to satisfy. Melodic and delightful, it will be eternally popular. My favorite performance of this very familiar work is by Gerard Schwarz and the LA Chamber Orchestra with Elmar Oliveira on violin. It is on the Delos label, and I have always appreciated their attention to recording details. When I hit “play”, the music explodes out of my speakers (I still listen to music primarily via Lps and CDs on a conventional stereo system). This is a very lively and energetic performance that I never get tired of.

In the ’80s, Christopher Hogwood started a bit of a craze of performing classical works in an “authentic” manner using period instruments and appropriate numbers of players in his ensemble. Handel’s Musick For The Royal Fireworks was one of the first classical works that I “got”. When I was in eighth grade (1974), my family spent a semester in Cambridge, and the poor music teacher at the school I attended had to try to instill a love of classical music in me and my classmates. We were completely into David Bowie, Bad Company, Queen, and other rock artists. However, when she explained the context in which Handel composed this music and asked us to listen to it, I found myself really enjoying it. I still do to this day. This album also includes Handel’s Water Music Suite which was performed on barges as King George I and his court floated down the Thames to a dinner party. He enjoyed it so much he had them play it twice (now we just hit <-)! I would do the same in the circumstances.

I’ll conclude this post with the composer whom I consider to be one of the three greatest in human history: Johann Sebastian Bach.

In 1955, a young Glenn Gould exploded on the classical music scene with his recording of The Goldberg Variations. They were written for a solo harpsichord – the piano hadn’t been invented yet – but Gould made them his own. According to legend, these variations were written to soothe a nobleman who suffered from insomnia. Whatever the true genesis, they are endlessly inventive and enjoyable. Gould’s performance is wonderful, and this album is one of the all-time classics of the genre. I also have the Variations as performed by Murray Perahia, and they are excellent as well, but this is album is the one I return to most often.

Bach was extremely prolific, so there is no way just a couple of albums could ever do him justice, but if you’re just starting out, having his Brandenburg Concertos is a perfect introduction. I could listen to these six concertos and never plumb their depths completely. It is such an immediately pleasurable experience to hear them, even if you don’t have any experience with classical music. The Academy of St. Martin in the Fields, conducted by Sir Neville Marriner is outstanding on these performances. They were recorded in analog in the late 1970s, but they sound crisp, clean, and clear. This album also includes Bach’s four Orchestral Suites and three Violin Concertos. What an embarrassment of riches!

As I laid out in the beginning, I am no expert when it comes to classical music; I just wanted to share some performances that I have enjoyed very much. In my next post, I’ll tackle Mozart, Beethoven, and a couple other classical composers.

Faith, LITERATURE

The Betrothed: A 200 Year Old Tale of Suffering and Redemption

Alessandro Manzoni published his magnum opus, The Betrothed, in 1824. At the time, Italy was composed of many different states with different dialects. Through the popularity of his novel, Manzoni forged a uniform version of the modern Italian language. As such, The Betrothed is one of the most important literary works in Italian culture. It’s also a delightful and wonderful novel.

It is set in northern Italy in the early seventeenth century – 1628 to 1630, to be exact. Technically, the Spanish empire is in charge of the region, but the towns are ruled by local lords – some benevolent and fair, some cruel and despotic. In a small town in Lombardy near Lake Como, young and honest Lorenzo “Renzo” Tramaglino, and the pretty and pious peasant girl, Lucia Mondella, are planning to get married. Unfortunately, the local ruler, Don Rodrigo, has noticed the beauty of Lucia, and he has a bet with his decadent cousin, Count Attilio, that he will seduce Lucia. He sends two of his “bravi” (basically thugs) to threaten Don Abbondio, the priest who is supposed to perform the wedding. Don Abbondio is a self-centered coward who takes the bravi’s warnings to heart and tells Renzo that the wedding must be postponed.

On this basic event, a massive, sprawling chronicle unfolds that takes in a famine, a plague, and political upheaval. Renzo and Lucia, with the help of her mother, Agnese, first try to trick Don Abbondio into marrying them by a subterfuge, but he sees through them, and his frantic cries for help awaken the entire village. At the same time, Don Rodrigo’s head henchman, Griso, is leading a group of bravi to kidnap Lucia. Lucia, Agnese, and Renzo barely escape, after being warned by a good friar, Fra Cristoforo. He arranges for Lucia and Agnese to take shelter at a convent, while Renzo heads to Milan seeking work.

While in Milan, the innocent and naive Renzo gets caught up in some bread riots, because prices have risen due to flour shortages resulting from the famine. Manzoni has some fun here at the expense of clueless political leaders who try to curry popularity by defying the laws of economics:

Ferrer [the Grand Chancellor of Milan] saw – and who would not? – that a fair price for bread is a very desirable thing. He thought – and this was his mistake – that all it would require was an order from him. He set the bread meta (as they called the tariff of foodstuffs) at a price that would have been fair if the average price for grain had been thirty-three liras a bushel, when in reality it sold for as much as eighty. He acted like an aging woman who thinks she can be young again by simply altering her birth certificate.

As a result of Ferrer’s folly, the bread shortages worsen, and the chapters describing the horrors of a city in the throes of a deep famine are incredibly moving. Thousands of people die from starvation, and the scenes Manzoni describes are heartrending.

As soon as there is some relief from the famine, the Thirty Years War intrudes in the form of German mercenaries who ravage and pillage the countryside. They also bring another wave of the bubonic plague, and when it strikes the densely populated city of Milan it practically wipes out everyone. Renzo manages to get out and head to the town of Bergamo, where a friend is able to employ him as a silk weaver. 

Meanwhile, Don Rodrigo has not given up his obsession with Lucia. He calls on the most powerful gangster in the area to kidnap her from the convent and bring her to him. This gangster is so feared, he is only referred to as “The Nameless One”. He pulls the strings of every prominent person in northern Italy, and he is incredibly powerful. He succeeds in kidnapping Lucia, and when he first confronts her, her helpless purity and piety somehow warm his cold heart and begins a long process of repentance.

I’ll stop there, because I don’t want to spoil the tale any more. Manzoni does a masterful job of portraying the horror and suffering of those struck by the plague. Nevertheless, this is, at heart, a comic novel, so there are some truly humorous characters and scenes. The aforementioned Don Abbondio is hilarious in his efforts to avoid responsibility and save his skin. He’s a scoundrel, but a lovable one. The Archbishop of Milan, Federigo Borromeo, is a heroic an inspiring man who does everything in his power to alleviate the suffering of those around him. The underlying message throughout the book is that the meek and powerless, through the mercy of God, can eventually triumph.

Many of Manzoni’s characters are based on actual historical figures, and he has a lot of fun making comments on their actions and behavior. The premise of the novel is that he has discovered a lost manuscript, and he is retelling the story related in it to a nineteenth century audience. There are many clever asides to the reader that make the book very enjoyable.

Finally, I must praise the translator of the latest version of The Betrothed, Michael F. Moore. He has made a 200-year-old novel sound as new and up to date as any contemporary writer without losing any of Manzoni’s power and morality. Even though it is 650 pages, I zipped through it in a few days. My all-time favorite author is Charles Dickens, and The Betrothed is on a par with Dickens’ best. It’s a wonderful and moving novel that should be as widely known as any well-loved and revered English language classic.

LITERATURE

Three Men In A Boat: Victorian Humor At Its Best

Jerome K. Jerome’s first book, Three Men in a Boat, was published in 1889, and it is one of the funniest books I’ve ever read. Apparently, it began as a serious travelogue, and there are stretches of relatively boring descriptions of picturesque towns and villages along the Thames river. However, most of the book concerns the trials and tribulations of the narrator, “J”, his two friends, George and Harris, and a dog, Montmorency, as they take a two-week holiday on a small boat up the river.

I love British humor (P. G. Wodehouse is one of my all-time favorite authors), and I can’t believe I am just now discovering Jerome K. Jerome. He has a deadpan style of narration that heightens the absurdity of the situations he and his friends get themselves into. Throughout the book, Jerome drops small jibes that had me constantly chuckling:

We arranged to start on the following Saturday from Kingston. Harris and I would go down in the morning, and take the boat up to Chertsey, and George, who would not be able to get away from the City till the afternoon (George goes to sleep at a bank from ten to four each day, except Saturdays, when they wake him up and put him outside at two), would meet us there.

Jerome’s tale also offers a fascinating glimpse into the habits of vacationing Britishers in the Victorian era. Apparently, it was a common practice to rent a large rowboat, load it up with all kinds of provisions, and head up the Thames for days at a time. To propel the boat, they either sculled (rowed), or used a towline that was pulled by one or two people of the party along a towpath on the bank of the river. in Jerome’s time, steam launches were just coming into use, and he talks about how there was often conflict between the boaters who sculled or towed themselves, and the newfangled motorized boats.

Jerome also uses his narrative to go off on all kinds of tangents, retelling several hilarious stories of his friends’ lives. For example, he talks about a time one of his friends asked him to take home to London a couple of very ripe cheeses. Jerome brought them with him onto the train, and they smelled so awful that no one could stay in the same compartment with him:

From Crewe I had the compartment to myself, though the train was crowded. As we drew up at the different stations, the people, seeing my empty carriage, would rush for it. “Here y’ are, Maria; come along, plenty of room.” “All right, Tom; we’ll get in here,” they would shout. And they would run along, carrying heavy bags, and fight round the door to get in first. And one would open the door and mount the steps, and stagger back into the arms of the man behind him; and they would all come and have a sniff, and then droop off and squeeze into other carriages, or pay the difference and go first.

From Euston, I took the cheeses down to my friend’s house. When his wife came into the room she smelt round for an instant. Then she said:

“What is it? Tell me the worst.”

I said: “It’s cheeses. Tom bought them in Liverpool, and asked me to bring them up with me.”

And I added that I hoped she understood that it had nothing to do with me; and she said that she was sure of that, but that she would speak to Tom about it when he came back.

And here is an excerpt describing how entertaining Harris is at a dinner party. It’s rather long, but it’s so funny I had to include it in its entirety:

I will just give you an idea of Harris’s comic singing, and then you can judge of it for yourself.

Harris (standing up in front of piano and addressing the expectant mob): “I’m afraid it’s a very old thing, you know. I expect you all know it, you know. But it’s the only thing I know. It’s the Judge’s song out of Pinafore — no, I don’t mean Pinafore — I mean — you know what I mean — the other thing, you know. You must all join in the chorus, you know.”

[Murmurs of delight and anxiety to join in the chorus. Brilliant performance of prelude to the Judge’s song in “Trial by Jury” by nervous Pianist. Moment arrives for Harris to join in. Harris takes no notice of it. Nervous pianist commences prelude over again, and Harris, commencing singing at the same time, dashes off the first two lines of the First Lord’s song out of “Pinafore.” Nervous pianist tries to push on with prelude, gives it up, and tries to follow Harris with accompaniment to Judge’s song out “Trial by Jury,” finds that doesn’t answer, and tries to recollect what he is doing, and where he is, feels his mind giving way, and stops short.]

Harris (with kindly encouragement): “It’s all right. You’re doing it very well, indeed — go on.”

Nervous Pianist: “I’m afraid there’s a mistake somewhere. What are you singing?”

Harris (promptly): “Why the Judge’s song out of Trial by Jury. Don’t you know it?”

Some Friend of Harris’s (from the back of the room): “No, you’re not, you chuckle-head, you’re singing the Admiral’s song from Pinafore.”

[Long argument between Harris and Harris’s friend as to what Harris is really singing. Friend finally suggests that it doesn’t matter what Harris is singing so long as Harris gets on and sings it, and Harris, with an evident sense of injustice rankling inside him, requests pianist to begin again. Pianist, thereupon, starts prelude to the Admiral’s song, and Harris, seizing what he considers to be a favourable opening in the music, begins.]

Harris: “ ‘When I was young and called to the Bar.’ ”

[General roar of laughter, taken by Harris as a compliment. Pianist, thinking of his wife and family, gives up the unequal contest and retires; his place being taken by a stronger-nerved man.]

The New Pianist (cheerily): “Now then, old man, you start off, and I’ll follow. We won’t bother about any prelude.”

Harris (upon whom the explanation of matters has slowly dawned — laughing): “By Jove! I beg your pardon. Of course — I’ve been mixing up the two songs. It was Jenkins confused me, you know. Now then.

[Singing; his voice appearing to come from the cellar, and suggesting the first low warnings of an approaching earthquake.]

“ ‘ When I was young I served a term As office-boy to an attorney’s firm.’

(Aside to pianist): “It is too low, old man; we’ll have that over again, if you don’t mind.”

[Sings first two lines over again, in a high falsetto this time. Great surprise on the part of the audience. Nervous old lady near the fire begins to cry, and has to be led out.]

Harris (continuing): “ ‘ I swept the windows and I swept the door, And I—’ No — no, I cleaned the windows of the big front door. And I polished up the floor — no, dash it — I beg your pardon — funny thing, I can’t think of that line. And I — and I — Oh, well, we’ll get on to the chorus, and chance it (sings):

“ ‘ And I diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-de, Till now I am the ruler of the Queen’s navee.’

Now then, chorus — it is the last two lines repeated, you know.

General Chorus: “And he diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-diddle-dee’d, Till now he is the ruler of the Queen’s navee.”

And Harris never sees what an ass he is making of himself, and how he is annoying a lot of people who never did him any harm. He honestly imagines that he has given them a treat, and says he will sing another comic song after supper.

I can glean a few interesting facts about entertaining guests in a Victorian home from this passage: first, it seems to be common practice for guests to volunteer to perform at dinner parties; second, there was no shortage of people who were proficient piano players and familiar with the music of Gilbert and Sullivan; and third, people provided their own entertainment. The popularity of recorded music, then radio, and finally television put an end to that practice, which is a shame.

Jerome, Harris, George, and Montmorency have a generally pleasant and leisurely trip up the Thames, all the way to Oxford. Along the way, Jerome makes humorous observations of local cemeteries, pubs, inns, and other boaters. Montmorency, a fox terrier, tangles with other dogs and the tea kettle. There’s no plot whatsoever, and the intrepid voyagers eventually make it back to London in one piece. If you’re looking for something that is very funny and enjoyable, you couldn’t do much better than Three Men in a Boat. You can download a free digital version here.