Karel Komzák I and II: Waltzes, Marches and Polkas. Christian Pollack conducting the Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra. Marco Polo. $9.99.
The Strausses were not the only family members churning out delightful dance tunes in and around 19th-century Vienna. From Lanner to Ziehrer, other composers with their own bands complemented and competed with Johann Sr. and Jr., Josef and Eduard. In fact, there was one family that went the Strausses one better, at least generationally: the Komzáks, originally from southern Bohemia, later Prague, and still later Vienna itself. All three – father (1823-1893), son (1850-1905) and grandson (1878-1924) – were named Karel or Karl. And all three were composers – though it is not always clear who wrote which pieces, since Karel II, the most prolific, edited and possibly changed his father’s works, and it is not sure just where Karel II’s output ended and Karel III’s began.
None of this matters to enjoyment of the Komzáks’ music, though, and it turns out that there is much to enjoy. Saying that the Komzáks were not the equal of the Strausses is no insult – nobody was. But the 13 works on this new CD, 10 by Karel II and three by Karel I, show a fine sense of rhythm, structure and joy that make them worthy of being much more widely known.
The best pieces here are generally the shorter ones. The marches are Sousa-ish – big, bold and brassy rather than having the ballroom style of the Strausses: this was a military family, and it shows. Karel II’s Kaiser-Marsch, which won a competition at the 50th-anniversary jubilee of Emperor Franz Joseph I in1898, is effective in its four-square way. Karel I’s Feldzugmeister “Von Kuhn” Marsch, written to honor a distinguished military leader, is exceptionally marchable, with a strong beat.
The best waltz here is the shortest: Karel II’s Petite Valse, whose gentle sweetness anticipates Lehár. It lasts only five-and-a-half minutes and is more consistent than others that are nearly twice as long. Karel II’s Warschauer Mäd’ln, for instance, has a good opening, but unusually long pauses in the middle and toward the end deprive it of a feeling of sweep and motion. Similarly, Karel II’s Dein gedenk’ ich is episodic and lacks overall flow and cohesion. Karel I’s Moldauwellen has a nice lilt, but do not look for a tone painting of the waves of the Moldau: the title, like the others here, is fanciful rather than directly related to the music.
There are no fast polkas on this CD – only the slower Polka Mazurka and Polka Française forms. The best is Karel II’s Maiblümchen, a delicate and bright work that nicely reflects its floral title. All the remaining pieces have their attractive moments, even if none has a sustained tunefulness matching the best works of other composers of the Komzáks’ era. Yet given the over-familiarity of some of the works by the Strauss family, it is a real pleasure to have high-quality, less-known music of the same type available for the dual pleasures of listening and discovery.
December 22, 2005
December 15, 2005
(++++) SEASONAL WORRIES AND CELEBRATIONS
Outbreak: Plagues That Changed History. By Bryn Barnard. Crown. $17.95.
Jerusalem Sky: Stars, Crosses, and Crescents. By Mark Podwal. Doubleday. $15.95.
In this season of supposed peace on Earth, there are, as in all such seasons, worries as well as good cheer abounding. Young readers interested in getting some perspective on news stories of today will be helped – and potentially uplifted – by reading these two books.
There is actually more information than uplift in Outbreak, but it can certainly help put worries about a bird-flu pandemic in perspective. This is the story of widespread disease outbreaks that caused major changes in civilization – such as the Black Death, which sounded the funeral knell not only for millions of people but also for the feudal system under which Europe had until then been governed. Bryn Barnard, whose previous book looked at disasters of another sort (it was called Dangerous Planet: Natural Disasters That Changed History), manages as much bright writing as possible on a super-serious subject: one section of a chapter, for instance, is called “Lifestyles of the Small and Deadly.” In addition to the Black Death, Barnard discusses smallpox, yellow fever, cholera, tuberculosis and influenza (the flu in all its forms). To the extent possible, he shows positive elements resulting from disease outbreaks, trying to indicate that the changes in history caused by disease involved more than the deaths of millions of people. Yellow fever, he suggests, helped end slavery, while tuberculosis – once thought to be a sign of wistfulness, lovesickness and artistic temperament – lost its romantic status after scientists isolated the bacterium that causes it and discovered that careful attention to hygiene could prevent the disease. Barnard’s conclusion about the simultaneous evolution of human beings and the germs that sicken us makes the current worries about a possible worldwide outbreak of bird flu very clear indeed.
Jerusalem Sky clarifies other matters. Mark Podwal – a clinical associate professor of medicine as well as an author and illustrator – uses this book to explain the centrality of Jerusalem to the spiritual life of three religions: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Starting with the legend that Jerusalem’s sky is unique because it “has a hole in it, made by a jewel that fell from God’s throne,” Podwal explains the city’s importance to the three great monotheistic religions. Jews believe a full moon shone over Jerusalem for seven years as King Solomon built the Temple; Christians believe a star in the Jerusalem sky heralded the birth of Jesus; Muslims believe “midnight glowed like day” when Muhammad rode through the sky on a flying horse on his way to heaven. The legends are far more uplifting than the modern reality of a city over which fighting is almost constant. Podwal notes this fact of life, but places it in the context of people seeking peace through their prayers “all addressed to one God.” It is a fitting, if not entirely realistic, way to view the unending conflicts over a city considered holy by so many millions of people.
Jerusalem Sky: Stars, Crosses, and Crescents. By Mark Podwal. Doubleday. $15.95.
In this season of supposed peace on Earth, there are, as in all such seasons, worries as well as good cheer abounding. Young readers interested in getting some perspective on news stories of today will be helped – and potentially uplifted – by reading these two books.
There is actually more information than uplift in Outbreak, but it can certainly help put worries about a bird-flu pandemic in perspective. This is the story of widespread disease outbreaks that caused major changes in civilization – such as the Black Death, which sounded the funeral knell not only for millions of people but also for the feudal system under which Europe had until then been governed. Bryn Barnard, whose previous book looked at disasters of another sort (it was called Dangerous Planet: Natural Disasters That Changed History), manages as much bright writing as possible on a super-serious subject: one section of a chapter, for instance, is called “Lifestyles of the Small and Deadly.” In addition to the Black Death, Barnard discusses smallpox, yellow fever, cholera, tuberculosis and influenza (the flu in all its forms). To the extent possible, he shows positive elements resulting from disease outbreaks, trying to indicate that the changes in history caused by disease involved more than the deaths of millions of people. Yellow fever, he suggests, helped end slavery, while tuberculosis – once thought to be a sign of wistfulness, lovesickness and artistic temperament – lost its romantic status after scientists isolated the bacterium that causes it and discovered that careful attention to hygiene could prevent the disease. Barnard’s conclusion about the simultaneous evolution of human beings and the germs that sicken us makes the current worries about a possible worldwide outbreak of bird flu very clear indeed.
Jerusalem Sky clarifies other matters. Mark Podwal – a clinical associate professor of medicine as well as an author and illustrator – uses this book to explain the centrality of Jerusalem to the spiritual life of three religions: Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Starting with the legend that Jerusalem’s sky is unique because it “has a hole in it, made by a jewel that fell from God’s throne,” Podwal explains the city’s importance to the three great monotheistic religions. Jews believe a full moon shone over Jerusalem for seven years as King Solomon built the Temple; Christians believe a star in the Jerusalem sky heralded the birth of Jesus; Muslims believe “midnight glowed like day” when Muhammad rode through the sky on a flying horse on his way to heaven. The legends are far more uplifting than the modern reality of a city over which fighting is almost constant. Podwal notes this fact of life, but places it in the context of people seeking peace through their prayers “all addressed to one God.” It is a fitting, if not entirely realistic, way to view the unending conflicts over a city considered holy by so many millions of people.
(++++) NEAT BUT LESS-KNOWN COMIC STRIPS
Frazz: Life at Bryson Elementary. By Jef Mallett. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
BoNanas: Monkey Meets World. By John Kovaleski. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
The Other Coast: This Is Your First Rock Garden, Isn’t It? By Adrian Raeside. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
If your newspaper does not carry these three comic strips – and it may not, since none of them is particularly widely available – you have been missing a great deal of fun and, in the case of one strip, something really special.
Frazz fully deserves a (++++) ranking for its unusual concept, clever writing and offbeat artwork. Set in an elementary school, it is the story of a songwriter who has hit it big but prefers to stick with the job he took when he was not yet a success: school janitor. The premise is ridiculous, but so what? It works wonderfully, explaining why a smart, with-it young man whose frizzy hair makes him look like a grown-up version of Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes is scraping gum off desks and cleaning throw-up in the cafeteria. It is because Edwin Frazier (his real name, which no one uses) does all these things out of love for kids that Jef Mallett’s strip communicates so much warmth to readers. There’s knowledge here, too: the word use is exemplary. And there are some knowing observations about human relationships, as when the school’s principal, Mr. Spaetzle, laments having “a bachelor’s, a master’s and a Ph.D., nine years of teaching, two decades of managing staff, tweaking budgets, and juggling schedules as an administrator – and about one-tenth the respect afforded the guy who chased a bee out of the lunchroom.” The characters and their relationships are thoughtful and well-developed. Frazz’s frequent foil is a student named Caulfield – after Holden Caulfield of The Catcher in the Rye – who is brilliant but bored. Mr. Spaetzle worries that Caulfield’s failure to take assessment tests seriously is “blowing the curve, nicking our funding and torpedoing his own transcripts,” and he asks Frazz, “What is his problem with standardized tests?” Frazz’s answer: “Maybe they only work with standardized kids.” There is wisdom as well as amusement here. Enjoy this book, then seek out the strip.
BoNanas and The Other Coast are nowhere near the level of Frazz, but both have their moments and both deserve (+++) rankings. BoNanas is a huge-nosed monkey who speaks well, lives among humans and is even attractive to single human women (one highlight is a sequence in which he quits office work because all the women are hearing their biological clocks tick and are therefore pursuing him). The fun here comes from an old idea: the naïf exploring the complexities of life. But that is essentially all there is to John Kovaleski’s strip; and the drawing style, though amusing enough, is not especially interesting in itself. This is a hit-or-miss strip: funny and pointed at times, much less so at others.
The same is true of The Other Coast, another one-joke strip whose focus is the peculiar way Californians see the world. Because there are so many variations of this peculiarity, Adrian Raeside never lacks for material. But not all the variations are equally amusing. This second collection of the strip has the same central characters: diminutive writer Toulouse and his wife, Vicky – a devotee of ecological causes who is willing to buy an alligator handbag because the skin comes from a gator that was run over by an outboard motor. Other recurring characters are the always overweight Larry, who works in the same office as Vicky; a rock band that lives (or at least constantly practices) next door to Toulouse and Vicky’s house; Simon the vegan; and other typecast types. The writing occasionally hits home, as when Simon boasts of his car that uses “clean, environmentally friendly electricity” and is parked near a smoke-spewing power plant. But most of the humor is of the gentle-kidding type: worth an occasional look, but thin as a daily diet.
BoNanas: Monkey Meets World. By John Kovaleski. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
The Other Coast: This Is Your First Rock Garden, Isn’t It? By Adrian Raeside. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
If your newspaper does not carry these three comic strips – and it may not, since none of them is particularly widely available – you have been missing a great deal of fun and, in the case of one strip, something really special.
Frazz fully deserves a (++++) ranking for its unusual concept, clever writing and offbeat artwork. Set in an elementary school, it is the story of a songwriter who has hit it big but prefers to stick with the job he took when he was not yet a success: school janitor. The premise is ridiculous, but so what? It works wonderfully, explaining why a smart, with-it young man whose frizzy hair makes him look like a grown-up version of Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes is scraping gum off desks and cleaning throw-up in the cafeteria. It is because Edwin Frazier (his real name, which no one uses) does all these things out of love for kids that Jef Mallett’s strip communicates so much warmth to readers. There’s knowledge here, too: the word use is exemplary. And there are some knowing observations about human relationships, as when the school’s principal, Mr. Spaetzle, laments having “a bachelor’s, a master’s and a Ph.D., nine years of teaching, two decades of managing staff, tweaking budgets, and juggling schedules as an administrator – and about one-tenth the respect afforded the guy who chased a bee out of the lunchroom.” The characters and their relationships are thoughtful and well-developed. Frazz’s frequent foil is a student named Caulfield – after Holden Caulfield of The Catcher in the Rye – who is brilliant but bored. Mr. Spaetzle worries that Caulfield’s failure to take assessment tests seriously is “blowing the curve, nicking our funding and torpedoing his own transcripts,” and he asks Frazz, “What is his problem with standardized tests?” Frazz’s answer: “Maybe they only work with standardized kids.” There is wisdom as well as amusement here. Enjoy this book, then seek out the strip.
BoNanas and The Other Coast are nowhere near the level of Frazz, but both have their moments and both deserve (+++) rankings. BoNanas is a huge-nosed monkey who speaks well, lives among humans and is even attractive to single human women (one highlight is a sequence in which he quits office work because all the women are hearing their biological clocks tick and are therefore pursuing him). The fun here comes from an old idea: the naïf exploring the complexities of life. But that is essentially all there is to John Kovaleski’s strip; and the drawing style, though amusing enough, is not especially interesting in itself. This is a hit-or-miss strip: funny and pointed at times, much less so at others.
The same is true of The Other Coast, another one-joke strip whose focus is the peculiar way Californians see the world. Because there are so many variations of this peculiarity, Adrian Raeside never lacks for material. But not all the variations are equally amusing. This second collection of the strip has the same central characters: diminutive writer Toulouse and his wife, Vicky – a devotee of ecological causes who is willing to buy an alligator handbag because the skin comes from a gator that was run over by an outboard motor. Other recurring characters are the always overweight Larry, who works in the same office as Vicky; a rock band that lives (or at least constantly practices) next door to Toulouse and Vicky’s house; Simon the vegan; and other typecast types. The writing occasionally hits home, as when Simon boasts of his car that uses “clean, environmentally friendly electricity” and is parked near a smoke-spewing power plant. But most of the humor is of the gentle-kidding type: worth an occasional look, but thin as a daily diet.
(+++) OFFBEAT TEEN LOVE STORIES
Confessions of a Boyfriend Stealer. By Robynn Clairday. Delacorte Press. $7.95.
The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman. By Louise Plummer. Laurel-Leaf. $5.99.
Readers ages 12 and up will immediately identify with the characters in these books and likely enjoy the far-fetched plots, provided that they realize they are far-fetched. Robynn Clairday’s Confessions of a Boyfriend Stealer is told in blog form, starting with a section called “Behind the Confessional Curtain” by protagonist Genesis Bell. This section helps identify the target audience immediately by revealing that Gen is 16½, loves various junk foods, has musical tastes that “fluctuate with my moods,” has a “basically dysfunctional” family life, and loved The Blair Witch Project and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The book is a series of posts and ripostes (re-posts?) about Gen stealing not one but two boyfriends from not one but two of her (former) best friends. Gen keeps busy explaining what really happened and trying to figure out why, while other postings argue about whether Gen really set out to be a boyfriend stealer or whether everything was the fault of “her best friends, the Terribles – CJ and Tasha! They are total nasty, conceited skanks!” The complicated plot revolves around Gen being an aspiring documentary maker. Like an emotional whirlpool, it pulls in everything from religion to Gen’s mom and sister being interested in the same man. It’s a modern melodrama, for sure, silly and unbelievable and absolutely not to be taken seriously, but fast-paced and frequently fun.
The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman is fun in a different way. Louis Plummer, whose previous book, A Dance for Three, was gritty and dark and in many ways unpleasant, takes things much more lightly here. Kate wants to write about her romance with the great-looking Richard, but she hates romance novels and knows how sappy they invariably sound. Still, she herself has sappy feelings for Richard, although she also has the (inevitable) complicated and conflict-filled home life, so she actually uses a romance-writing phrase book to help her put her story together. The result is often highly amusing: “My father, age fifty-four, could fall hopelessly in carnal love with Fleur St. Germaine, leave my mother, age forty-five, and me, his computer, his classroom, his phonetic alphabets, and Minnesota, and go off to some beach somewhere with a twenty-one-year-old college student. It happens all the time.” There are also sections (in different type) called “Revision Notes,” in which Kate considers different and better ways she could tell her own story. There is plenty of navel-gazing here, but there is also genuine feeling and not a little tenderness. This unusual book will not appeal to teens who want to get right to the heart of a story, but for those who like to wander in characters’ minds a bit, it will be a most pleasant journey.
The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman. By Louise Plummer. Laurel-Leaf. $5.99.
Readers ages 12 and up will immediately identify with the characters in these books and likely enjoy the far-fetched plots, provided that they realize they are far-fetched. Robynn Clairday’s Confessions of a Boyfriend Stealer is told in blog form, starting with a section called “Behind the Confessional Curtain” by protagonist Genesis Bell. This section helps identify the target audience immediately by revealing that Gen is 16½, loves various junk foods, has musical tastes that “fluctuate with my moods,” has a “basically dysfunctional” family life, and loved The Blair Witch Project and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The book is a series of posts and ripostes (re-posts?) about Gen stealing not one but two boyfriends from not one but two of her (former) best friends. Gen keeps busy explaining what really happened and trying to figure out why, while other postings argue about whether Gen really set out to be a boyfriend stealer or whether everything was the fault of “her best friends, the Terribles – CJ and Tasha! They are total nasty, conceited skanks!” The complicated plot revolves around Gen being an aspiring documentary maker. Like an emotional whirlpool, it pulls in everything from religion to Gen’s mom and sister being interested in the same man. It’s a modern melodrama, for sure, silly and unbelievable and absolutely not to be taken seriously, but fast-paced and frequently fun.
The Unlikely Romance of Kate Bjorkman is fun in a different way. Louis Plummer, whose previous book, A Dance for Three, was gritty and dark and in many ways unpleasant, takes things much more lightly here. Kate wants to write about her romance with the great-looking Richard, but she hates romance novels and knows how sappy they invariably sound. Still, she herself has sappy feelings for Richard, although she also has the (inevitable) complicated and conflict-filled home life, so she actually uses a romance-writing phrase book to help her put her story together. The result is often highly amusing: “My father, age fifty-four, could fall hopelessly in carnal love with Fleur St. Germaine, leave my mother, age forty-five, and me, his computer, his classroom, his phonetic alphabets, and Minnesota, and go off to some beach somewhere with a twenty-one-year-old college student. It happens all the time.” There are also sections (in different type) called “Revision Notes,” in which Kate considers different and better ways she could tell her own story. There is plenty of navel-gazing here, but there is also genuine feeling and not a little tenderness. This unusual book will not appeal to teens who want to get right to the heart of a story, but for those who like to wander in characters’ minds a bit, it will be a most pleasant journey.
(+++) SECOND-TIME-AROUND TRAPS
Strengthening Your Stepfamily. By Elizabeth Einstein, M.A., MFT, and Linda Albert, Ph.D. Impact Publishers. $17.95.
It is the height of naïveté to believe that the problems of a first marriage will not find their way into a second one. Especially if a first marriage ends in divorce, as so many do, people should realize that the factors that brought about the end of one union will carry over to a new one. But hope springs eternal, nowhere more so than in matters of the heart, so stepfamilies form at a fast pace as the previously married bring themselves, their children and their dreams into new romantic entanglements. Often, what results is additional heartache for all concerned – and another marital breakup.
You can lessen the chance of this happening to you, say family therapist Elizabeth Einstein and columnist Linda Albert, by realizing that the usual rules of family life do not apply to stepfamilies, and developing individualized standards for stepfamily success. These standards must include your own way of coping with the realities of stepfamily life. You must accept the fact that ex-spouses exist and continue to have a role in your new mate’s life because of his or her children. You must analyze your own lifestyle patterns in past relationships – values, political views, hobbies and more – and decide which to keep or jettison as you create a new life as a couple. You must bring fears out in the open and find ways to deal with them, either together or with the help of a third party, such as a counselor.
Stepfamilies start with baggage. Basic decisions are required about money management (several accounts or a merged one?), housing (move to one partner’s house or the other’s, or somewhere new?), and discipline of children (who decides which children get disciplined in what way?). “Few people understand all their own expectations, let alone their mate’s,” write Einstein and Albert. But the closer a couple gets to such understanding, the better chance a new marriage has.
The authors recommend supportive comments that spouses can make to each other instead of the unhelpful ones that may come more readily to mind. They provide a series of worksheets for dealing with stepfamily issues: “What did I learn from my former relationship? What am I still repeating?” And they present chapter-closing “points to ponder,” such as, “Remarried non-custodial parents with stepchildren often feel guilty about raising someone else’s children when they cannot be with their own as often.” The book’s oversized pages are too information-packed for most stepparents to have time to go through them, but Strengthening Your Stepfamily can be useful if taken in small doses, perhaps by focusing on one troubling issue at a time and seeing what the authors have to say about it. Their advice is good, although harried stepparents’ ability to implement it without third-party help is likely to be minimal. Reading this book therefore leads to a conclusion both helpful and troubling: all stepfamilies would likely benefit from therapy of some type, both before the remarriage and during its stabilization period – which may last for years.
It is the height of naïveté to believe that the problems of a first marriage will not find their way into a second one. Especially if a first marriage ends in divorce, as so many do, people should realize that the factors that brought about the end of one union will carry over to a new one. But hope springs eternal, nowhere more so than in matters of the heart, so stepfamilies form at a fast pace as the previously married bring themselves, their children and their dreams into new romantic entanglements. Often, what results is additional heartache for all concerned – and another marital breakup.
You can lessen the chance of this happening to you, say family therapist Elizabeth Einstein and columnist Linda Albert, by realizing that the usual rules of family life do not apply to stepfamilies, and developing individualized standards for stepfamily success. These standards must include your own way of coping with the realities of stepfamily life. You must accept the fact that ex-spouses exist and continue to have a role in your new mate’s life because of his or her children. You must analyze your own lifestyle patterns in past relationships – values, political views, hobbies and more – and decide which to keep or jettison as you create a new life as a couple. You must bring fears out in the open and find ways to deal with them, either together or with the help of a third party, such as a counselor.
Stepfamilies start with baggage. Basic decisions are required about money management (several accounts or a merged one?), housing (move to one partner’s house or the other’s, or somewhere new?), and discipline of children (who decides which children get disciplined in what way?). “Few people understand all their own expectations, let alone their mate’s,” write Einstein and Albert. But the closer a couple gets to such understanding, the better chance a new marriage has.
The authors recommend supportive comments that spouses can make to each other instead of the unhelpful ones that may come more readily to mind. They provide a series of worksheets for dealing with stepfamily issues: “What did I learn from my former relationship? What am I still repeating?” And they present chapter-closing “points to ponder,” such as, “Remarried non-custodial parents with stepchildren often feel guilty about raising someone else’s children when they cannot be with their own as often.” The book’s oversized pages are too information-packed for most stepparents to have time to go through them, but Strengthening Your Stepfamily can be useful if taken in small doses, perhaps by focusing on one troubling issue at a time and seeing what the authors have to say about it. Their advice is good, although harried stepparents’ ability to implement it without third-party help is likely to be minimal. Reading this book therefore leads to a conclusion both helpful and troubling: all stepfamilies would likely benefit from therapy of some type, both before the remarriage and during its stabilization period – which may last for years.
(++++) SZELL'S SALZBURG SOJOURNS
Beethoven: Coriolan Overture, Piano Concerto No. 5, Symphony No. 5, Egmont Overture; Bruckner: Symphony No. 3. George Szell conducting Sächsische Statskapelle Dresden. Nikita Magaloff, piano. Andante. $19.99 (2 CDs).
The name of George Szell will forever be associated with the Cleveland Orchestra, which he raised to national and international prominence through his role as its music director from 1946 until his death in 1970. Interestingly, it turns out that Szell’s remarkable conducting techniques, which elicited a clarity and precision in Cleveland never before heard from an American orchestra, were transferable. At the Salzburg Festival in 1961 and 1965, Szell conducted the Dresden Staatskapelle with intensity and drama that remain memorable today.
We know how good the concerts were because the original master tapes were preserved, and have now been digitally remastered for this recording. The sound, especially from 1961, is not up to today’s standards, though it is largely free of tape hiss and other common problems of 1960s recordings. But the performances are up to the standards of any day.
The 1961 selections are all by Beethoven. The CD starts with a precisely played Coriolan Overture whose silences are as dramatic as the loudest sections – a Szell trademark. Then there is an “Emperor” concerto in which the orchestra outclasses the soloist: Nikita Magaloff plays well enough, but his timidity (especially in the first movement) makes this sound more like the “Pretender to the Throne” concerto. It is possible that the microphone placement put Magaloff at a disadvantage. But he gets stronger as the work progresses, and a good thing, too, because Szell has the orchestra playing with tremendous intensity throughout. The performance gleams despite sound that is, overall, rather thin.
And speaking of intensity, Szell produces it to the nth degree in the Fifth Symphony: the hammering of the first movement is almost enough to make you jump, the quiet at the end of the third is both ethereal and mysterious, and the opening of the finale is so speedy and insistent that it is abundantly clear why Beethoven added trombones only for this movement. Szell manages to maintain a hectic pace to the end, by which time he has absolutely hammered the C Major conclusion into the audience’s ears. The performance is not perfect: parts of the second movement are a bit rushed, and the repeat of the exposition of the finale is omitted (this was customary at the time but is still unfortunate). In all, though, this is a highly exciting and thoroughly memorable reading.
The 1965 CD opens with Beethoven’s Egmont Overture, and it is immediately clear that audio technology has advanced considerably. Szell’s dramatic flair is as much in evidence here as in the 1961 CD, but this recording has warmth and presence that are missing from the earlier one and that add new dimension and subtlety to the performance. The warmth is especially welcome in Bruckner’s Symphony No. 3, which Szell paces with verve and spirit while not neglecting its emotional depths – to the extent that they are available in the 1888-1889 version he conducts. This was the third and final version of the symphony, whose original (1873) version was not published until 1977, long after Szell’s death. The 1888-1889 truncation of this so-called “Wagner” symphony (which quotes from several works by Richard Wagner and was dedicated to him) is an unfortunate one: the 1873 version is Bruckner’s longest work, running 75 to 80 minutes, while this one runs only 50 at Szell’s quick tempi.
So this is not Bruckner for purists – but, taken on its own terms, it is highly effective. Szell does not wallow, keeping the music moving smartly along while bringing out the relationships among the thematic groups to fine effect. There is little he can do to make the finale coherent – it runs 11½ minutes here, compared with 20 minutes in the 1873 original – and his movement from scherzo to trio is too abrupt, making the latter seem totally disconnected from the former. Otherwise, though, this is a performance of understanding and clarity, and well worth hearing.
The audiences in these live recordings are reasonably quiet – the 1965 listeners more so. The only production oddity is the long pauses between movements: 15 to 20-plus seconds, during which there is plenty of rustling and coughing. Still, these recordings are musically rich and a fine addition to the Szell discography – and to the memory of this great conductor.
The name of George Szell will forever be associated with the Cleveland Orchestra, which he raised to national and international prominence through his role as its music director from 1946 until his death in 1970. Interestingly, it turns out that Szell’s remarkable conducting techniques, which elicited a clarity and precision in Cleveland never before heard from an American orchestra, were transferable. At the Salzburg Festival in 1961 and 1965, Szell conducted the Dresden Staatskapelle with intensity and drama that remain memorable today.
We know how good the concerts were because the original master tapes were preserved, and have now been digitally remastered for this recording. The sound, especially from 1961, is not up to today’s standards, though it is largely free of tape hiss and other common problems of 1960s recordings. But the performances are up to the standards of any day.
The 1961 selections are all by Beethoven. The CD starts with a precisely played Coriolan Overture whose silences are as dramatic as the loudest sections – a Szell trademark. Then there is an “Emperor” concerto in which the orchestra outclasses the soloist: Nikita Magaloff plays well enough, but his timidity (especially in the first movement) makes this sound more like the “Pretender to the Throne” concerto. It is possible that the microphone placement put Magaloff at a disadvantage. But he gets stronger as the work progresses, and a good thing, too, because Szell has the orchestra playing with tremendous intensity throughout. The performance gleams despite sound that is, overall, rather thin.
And speaking of intensity, Szell produces it to the nth degree in the Fifth Symphony: the hammering of the first movement is almost enough to make you jump, the quiet at the end of the third is both ethereal and mysterious, and the opening of the finale is so speedy and insistent that it is abundantly clear why Beethoven added trombones only for this movement. Szell manages to maintain a hectic pace to the end, by which time he has absolutely hammered the C Major conclusion into the audience’s ears. The performance is not perfect: parts of the second movement are a bit rushed, and the repeat of the exposition of the finale is omitted (this was customary at the time but is still unfortunate). In all, though, this is a highly exciting and thoroughly memorable reading.
The 1965 CD opens with Beethoven’s Egmont Overture, and it is immediately clear that audio technology has advanced considerably. Szell’s dramatic flair is as much in evidence here as in the 1961 CD, but this recording has warmth and presence that are missing from the earlier one and that add new dimension and subtlety to the performance. The warmth is especially welcome in Bruckner’s Symphony No. 3, which Szell paces with verve and spirit while not neglecting its emotional depths – to the extent that they are available in the 1888-1889 version he conducts. This was the third and final version of the symphony, whose original (1873) version was not published until 1977, long after Szell’s death. The 1888-1889 truncation of this so-called “Wagner” symphony (which quotes from several works by Richard Wagner and was dedicated to him) is an unfortunate one: the 1873 version is Bruckner’s longest work, running 75 to 80 minutes, while this one runs only 50 at Szell’s quick tempi.
So this is not Bruckner for purists – but, taken on its own terms, it is highly effective. Szell does not wallow, keeping the music moving smartly along while bringing out the relationships among the thematic groups to fine effect. There is little he can do to make the finale coherent – it runs 11½ minutes here, compared with 20 minutes in the 1873 original – and his movement from scherzo to trio is too abrupt, making the latter seem totally disconnected from the former. Otherwise, though, this is a performance of understanding and clarity, and well worth hearing.
The audiences in these live recordings are reasonably quiet – the 1965 listeners more so. The only production oddity is the long pauses between movements: 15 to 20-plus seconds, during which there is plenty of rustling and coughing. Still, these recordings are musically rich and a fine addition to the Szell discography – and to the memory of this great conductor.
December 11, 2005
(++++) "SEUSSICAL" THE AMUSE-ICAL
Seussical. Music by Stephen Flaherty. Lyrics by Lynn Ahrens. Book by Lynn Ahrens and Stephen Flaherty. Directed by Kathryn Chase Bryer. Production at Imagination Stage, Bethesda, Maryland, through January 15, 2006.
Create a four-star production of a three-star musical and it’s still a three-star musical – but more fun. That’s the Imagination Stage production of Seussical in a nutshell.
On Broadway, Seussical was, to put it politely, less than successful. It’s easy to see why: who is the audience? Parents who remember Seuss’s works fondly will not take kindly to the many changes wrought on them here. Kids who only recently read or heard the works are likely to be even less forgiving. Very young children, or ones who do not know Dr. Seuss (are there any?), are probably the best audience. At Imagination Stage, though, Seussical also appeals to people who simply want to have a good time.
This is a shortened, tightened and better-focused version of the Broadway show, acted and sung by a cast whose enthusiasm is so great that it more than overcomes occasionally ragged voices. Mollie Clement as Jojo (the youngest Who heard by Horton) is a gem: a child actress who can really project, who understands her part and who doesn’t rely solely on cuteness, though she has plenty of that. Rob McQuay as Horton, the nominal hero, is wheelchair-bound and makes the chair into an important part of his character: the way he swerves it, pushes with one arm and then the other to give the impression of a lumbering gait, and spins it around to show surprise is simply marvelous. Doug Sanford as the Cat in the Hat, who starts the action and helps lace it together, is bouncy, mischievous and just sly enough.
The story basically combines Horton Hears a Who and Horton Hatches the Egg, emphasizing the former and greatly filling out the subsidiary character roles. Horton is one of Dr. Seuss’s best creations: simple, steadfast, and warmhearted almost to the point of stupidity – but in a lovable way. So far, so good. Where Seussical goes astray, even in this improved version, is in making Horton both too self-aware and too formulaic. Having him sing about being “all alone” and saying he “found magic” simply rings false. Such lines as, “I was just a no one…you showed up and showed me something more” could have come from almost any Broadway show of the past 50 years. They decidedly do not come from Dr. Seuss. Nor does the idea of giving the bird Gertrude McFuzz (a charmingly animated Jennifer Anderson) an unrequited crush on Horton, which is eventually reciprocated after the egg hatches the famous “elephant bird” and she promises to help Horton care for it. “You teach him earth and I will teach him sky.” Oh, yuck.
Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens might have gotten away with some of their more trivial and hackneyed lines (“alone in the universe too,” “somewhere beyond the horizon” – double yuck!) if Flaherty’s music had been outstanding. No such luck: the songs are catchy but not infectious, with not a showstopper among them. The result could be genuinely unlikable in an uninspired production – but this is where Kathryn Chase Bryer, lighting director Jason Arnold, choreographer Michael J. Bobbitt and stage manager Kristen J. Bishel come to the show’s rescue.
The production is simply wonderful. The set – one for the whole show – is big, bright and vaguely suggestive of a Seuss landscape. A ramp in the middle, a trap door in front and various open-and-close panels give the cast plenty of chances to move about, and they do so constantly, with energy that sometimes approaches the manic and generally serves to distract from the weaknesses of the show’s book (which become most obvious in the slow ballads). Every subsidiary part is well filled. Patricia Hurley is especially good as “runaway” Mayzie Le Bird, here done in a Marilyn Monroe wig and with as much flashiness as possible. Priscilla Cuellar makes an effective, bad-but-not-evil Sour Kangaroo, though the dance she leads when preparing to boil the Whos’ dust speck in oil is overdone. As the Wickersham Brothers, the monkeys who grab Horton’s dust speck and spirit it away, L.C. Harden Jr., Michael Mejia and Joel Reuben Ganz (who doubles as the Whos’ mayor) offer a good blend of menace and mischief-making. Smaller roles – Brianne Cobuzzi as Mrs. Who and a bird girl, Cyana Cook as another bird girl – are just fine as well.
There is no way that Seussical is Seuss. A few minutes with the climactic trial scene (trial scene?), in which the Cat as judge commits Horton to an asylum for the criminally insane (asylum?), makes it clear by just how much this show misses the simple, homespun values of Dr. Seuss. Nevertheless, Imagination Stage’s production almost saves Seussical from itself. This is far from a great musical, but the wonderful production certainly makes it captivating.
Create a four-star production of a three-star musical and it’s still a three-star musical – but more fun. That’s the Imagination Stage production of Seussical in a nutshell.
On Broadway, Seussical was, to put it politely, less than successful. It’s easy to see why: who is the audience? Parents who remember Seuss’s works fondly will not take kindly to the many changes wrought on them here. Kids who only recently read or heard the works are likely to be even less forgiving. Very young children, or ones who do not know Dr. Seuss (are there any?), are probably the best audience. At Imagination Stage, though, Seussical also appeals to people who simply want to have a good time.
This is a shortened, tightened and better-focused version of the Broadway show, acted and sung by a cast whose enthusiasm is so great that it more than overcomes occasionally ragged voices. Mollie Clement as Jojo (the youngest Who heard by Horton) is a gem: a child actress who can really project, who understands her part and who doesn’t rely solely on cuteness, though she has plenty of that. Rob McQuay as Horton, the nominal hero, is wheelchair-bound and makes the chair into an important part of his character: the way he swerves it, pushes with one arm and then the other to give the impression of a lumbering gait, and spins it around to show surprise is simply marvelous. Doug Sanford as the Cat in the Hat, who starts the action and helps lace it together, is bouncy, mischievous and just sly enough.
The story basically combines Horton Hears a Who and Horton Hatches the Egg, emphasizing the former and greatly filling out the subsidiary character roles. Horton is one of Dr. Seuss’s best creations: simple, steadfast, and warmhearted almost to the point of stupidity – but in a lovable way. So far, so good. Where Seussical goes astray, even in this improved version, is in making Horton both too self-aware and too formulaic. Having him sing about being “all alone” and saying he “found magic” simply rings false. Such lines as, “I was just a no one…you showed up and showed me something more” could have come from almost any Broadway show of the past 50 years. They decidedly do not come from Dr. Seuss. Nor does the idea of giving the bird Gertrude McFuzz (a charmingly animated Jennifer Anderson) an unrequited crush on Horton, which is eventually reciprocated after the egg hatches the famous “elephant bird” and she promises to help Horton care for it. “You teach him earth and I will teach him sky.” Oh, yuck.
Stephen Flaherty and Lynn Ahrens might have gotten away with some of their more trivial and hackneyed lines (“alone in the universe too,” “somewhere beyond the horizon” – double yuck!) if Flaherty’s music had been outstanding. No such luck: the songs are catchy but not infectious, with not a showstopper among them. The result could be genuinely unlikable in an uninspired production – but this is where Kathryn Chase Bryer, lighting director Jason Arnold, choreographer Michael J. Bobbitt and stage manager Kristen J. Bishel come to the show’s rescue.
The production is simply wonderful. The set – one for the whole show – is big, bright and vaguely suggestive of a Seuss landscape. A ramp in the middle, a trap door in front and various open-and-close panels give the cast plenty of chances to move about, and they do so constantly, with energy that sometimes approaches the manic and generally serves to distract from the weaknesses of the show’s book (which become most obvious in the slow ballads). Every subsidiary part is well filled. Patricia Hurley is especially good as “runaway” Mayzie Le Bird, here done in a Marilyn Monroe wig and with as much flashiness as possible. Priscilla Cuellar makes an effective, bad-but-not-evil Sour Kangaroo, though the dance she leads when preparing to boil the Whos’ dust speck in oil is overdone. As the Wickersham Brothers, the monkeys who grab Horton’s dust speck and spirit it away, L.C. Harden Jr., Michael Mejia and Joel Reuben Ganz (who doubles as the Whos’ mayor) offer a good blend of menace and mischief-making. Smaller roles – Brianne Cobuzzi as Mrs. Who and a bird girl, Cyana Cook as another bird girl – are just fine as well.
There is no way that Seussical is Seuss. A few minutes with the climactic trial scene (trial scene?), in which the Cat as judge commits Horton to an asylum for the criminally insane (asylum?), makes it clear by just how much this show misses the simple, homespun values of Dr. Seuss. Nevertheless, Imagination Stage’s production almost saves Seussical from itself. This is far from a great musical, but the wonderful production certainly makes it captivating.
December 08, 2005
(++++) THREE COMIC STRIPS AT THEIR PEAKS
Our Server Is Down! “Baby Blues” Scrapbook 20. By Rick Kirkman and Jerry Scott. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
Pimp My Lunch: “Zits” Sketchbook No. 10. By Jerry Scott and Jim Borgman. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
Never Wink at a Worried Woman: A “For Better or For Worse” Collection. By Lynn Johnston. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
If the only thing that mattered in cartooning was consistency, the most popular comic strip in the world would be Garfield. (Okay, it is extremely popular, but that says more about some readers’ tastes than about the strip itself.) The best comic strips provide a consistently high level of quality and, if they are story-oriented strips, consistently interesting and believable (or at least recognizable) characters. But they also provide constant variation, so you never quite know what to expect from one day to the next – except that it will be something delightful.
Jerry Scott has a hand – specifically, whatever hand he writes with – in two of the strips that are most adept at staying at the highest possible standard. Baby Blues has remained a delight from its earliest days, when Zoe was born, right through to now, when Zoe is seven, brother Hammie is five, and sister Wren is a toddler. That’s impressive consistency – but even more impressive are the always-bright writing, the exaggeratedly appropriate art of Rick Kirkman, and the endless variations on the theme of irrepressible children interacting with overworked and overstressed parents. The “server” in Our Server Is Down! refers not to a computer but to mom Wanda, who spends so much time serving her kids that she eventually collapses into sleep. Dad Darryl has his share of reasons for exhaustion, too, from trying to save money for the kids’ college educations (finding change in the dryer’s lint trap will double the college fund), to pulling everyone else out of the family minivan because the ice cream that keeps the kids quiet also attaches them to the seats (“sticky kids or whiny kids – take your pick,” says Wanda). This collection includes “Ask a Mom/Ask a Dad” strips highlighting different parental responses to the same question, several hearty helpings of sibling rivalry (and as many of sibling revelry), and the family visiting the zoo – where Darryl asks for five tickets, “two roundtrip and three one way.” What parent hasn’t at least considered that prospect?
Eventually, of course, little kids grow older and bigger, out of diapers and temper tantrums and into teenagerdom – which makes many parents long for those earlier, simpler days. But there’s no way to go back, so one must go forward into Zits, which adds a healthy dose of surrealism to the tale of Jeremy Duncan, his family, his friends and his world-weariness. At 15, Jeremy knows just what he wants: fame and fortune without work. But he is not sure what to say to get him where he wants to be (he compliments his girlfriend, Sara, by saying she looks like “workout Barbie”). Jeremy is prone to fantasies (he imagines the attractive school guidance counselor wearing a leopard-print bikini and hanging upside-down like a trapeze artist) and insecurities (he changes into his “question authority” T-shirt only after leaving the house). Jim Borgman, one of the best artists in the business, is a major reason for the strip’s success. He perfectly captures Jeremy’s expression as he wakes up, yawns, and says, “Hello, world. Now entertain me.” He also shows Jeremy’s mother, Connie, literally hitting the ceiling, and sticking there; Jeremy’s dad blasted by a jet engine when Jeremy cranks up his new amp; Jeremy and his friends as inscrutable Easter Island heads when Connie suggests they place Yahtzee; and much more.
Both Baby Blues and Zits exaggerate reality to show it more clearly. For Better or For Worse mostly just displays reality as it is – with a few nips and tucks here and there to fit a daily four-panel format. Lynn Johnston’s strip could fairly be called a soap opera if the phrase did not have so many negative connotations. It chronicles the ins and outs of the Patterson family with pervasive affection and so much realism that the characters seem like next-door neighbors. In the latest collection, daughter Elizabeth becomes a teacher and deals with an “obnoxious little twirp” in her class by remembering how she handled her older brother, Michael – who is now married and a father himself. The third Patterson child, April, is now a teenager and a member of a rock band that does surprisingly well in a competition – until April breaks a string on stage. Parents John and Elly remain the center of the strip’s universe, but this book focuses more on others, such as Grandpa Jim, who has a memory lapse that leads to an accident, unwanted dependency and the need for a walker; and Elizabeth’s high-school boyfriend, Anthony, who marries a woman whose jealousy of Elizabeth is truly cutting (she literally “looks knives” in one strip).
Different all these strips surely are, but in one crucial way they are similar: readers know the characters intimately, have a strong sense of their personalities, and know they can count on the writers and artists to stay true to those personalities while keeping the day-to-day occurrences lively and engaging. That is the formula for lasting quality and popularity. And in strips as good as these, there is nothing formulaic about it.
Pimp My Lunch: “Zits” Sketchbook No. 10. By Jerry Scott and Jim Borgman. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
Never Wink at a Worried Woman: A “For Better or For Worse” Collection. By Lynn Johnston. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
If the only thing that mattered in cartooning was consistency, the most popular comic strip in the world would be Garfield. (Okay, it is extremely popular, but that says more about some readers’ tastes than about the strip itself.) The best comic strips provide a consistently high level of quality and, if they are story-oriented strips, consistently interesting and believable (or at least recognizable) characters. But they also provide constant variation, so you never quite know what to expect from one day to the next – except that it will be something delightful.
Jerry Scott has a hand – specifically, whatever hand he writes with – in two of the strips that are most adept at staying at the highest possible standard. Baby Blues has remained a delight from its earliest days, when Zoe was born, right through to now, when Zoe is seven, brother Hammie is five, and sister Wren is a toddler. That’s impressive consistency – but even more impressive are the always-bright writing, the exaggeratedly appropriate art of Rick Kirkman, and the endless variations on the theme of irrepressible children interacting with overworked and overstressed parents. The “server” in Our Server Is Down! refers not to a computer but to mom Wanda, who spends so much time serving her kids that she eventually collapses into sleep. Dad Darryl has his share of reasons for exhaustion, too, from trying to save money for the kids’ college educations (finding change in the dryer’s lint trap will double the college fund), to pulling everyone else out of the family minivan because the ice cream that keeps the kids quiet also attaches them to the seats (“sticky kids or whiny kids – take your pick,” says Wanda). This collection includes “Ask a Mom/Ask a Dad” strips highlighting different parental responses to the same question, several hearty helpings of sibling rivalry (and as many of sibling revelry), and the family visiting the zoo – where Darryl asks for five tickets, “two roundtrip and three one way.” What parent hasn’t at least considered that prospect?
Eventually, of course, little kids grow older and bigger, out of diapers and temper tantrums and into teenagerdom – which makes many parents long for those earlier, simpler days. But there’s no way to go back, so one must go forward into Zits, which adds a healthy dose of surrealism to the tale of Jeremy Duncan, his family, his friends and his world-weariness. At 15, Jeremy knows just what he wants: fame and fortune without work. But he is not sure what to say to get him where he wants to be (he compliments his girlfriend, Sara, by saying she looks like “workout Barbie”). Jeremy is prone to fantasies (he imagines the attractive school guidance counselor wearing a leopard-print bikini and hanging upside-down like a trapeze artist) and insecurities (he changes into his “question authority” T-shirt only after leaving the house). Jim Borgman, one of the best artists in the business, is a major reason for the strip’s success. He perfectly captures Jeremy’s expression as he wakes up, yawns, and says, “Hello, world. Now entertain me.” He also shows Jeremy’s mother, Connie, literally hitting the ceiling, and sticking there; Jeremy’s dad blasted by a jet engine when Jeremy cranks up his new amp; Jeremy and his friends as inscrutable Easter Island heads when Connie suggests they place Yahtzee; and much more.
Both Baby Blues and Zits exaggerate reality to show it more clearly. For Better or For Worse mostly just displays reality as it is – with a few nips and tucks here and there to fit a daily four-panel format. Lynn Johnston’s strip could fairly be called a soap opera if the phrase did not have so many negative connotations. It chronicles the ins and outs of the Patterson family with pervasive affection and so much realism that the characters seem like next-door neighbors. In the latest collection, daughter Elizabeth becomes a teacher and deals with an “obnoxious little twirp” in her class by remembering how she handled her older brother, Michael – who is now married and a father himself. The third Patterson child, April, is now a teenager and a member of a rock band that does surprisingly well in a competition – until April breaks a string on stage. Parents John and Elly remain the center of the strip’s universe, but this book focuses more on others, such as Grandpa Jim, who has a memory lapse that leads to an accident, unwanted dependency and the need for a walker; and Elizabeth’s high-school boyfriend, Anthony, who marries a woman whose jealousy of Elizabeth is truly cutting (she literally “looks knives” in one strip).
Different all these strips surely are, but in one crucial way they are similar: readers know the characters intimately, have a strong sense of their personalities, and know they can count on the writers and artists to stay true to those personalities while keeping the day-to-day occurrences lively and engaging. That is the formula for lasting quality and popularity. And in strips as good as these, there is nothing formulaic about it.
(++++) FUTURE WORLD, PRESENT WORLD
Venusia. By Mark von Schlegell. Semiotext(e) Native Agents/MIT Press. $14.95.
Flush. By Carl Hiaasen. Knopf. $16.95.
Neither of the worlds in these books exists. Or both do. It’s a matter of interpretation, and of how you see where we are today. Mark von Schlegell’s Venusia is a traditionally dystopic view of a future society, except that that doesn’t quite capture it. It’s set on the colony of the title, an off-world place that has survived the destruction of Earth and is getting on quite well, thank you, at the end of the 23rd century. But all is of course not well. It is the way it is not well that makes von Schlegell’s book – his first novel – fascinating. Venusia is historically inert, its people captured by industrialized narcotics, holographic entertainment and memory control imposed for their own benefit by a totalitarian but enlightened government. Does this sound vaguely familiar? It should. Familiarity peeks through the strangeness everywhere here. Consider von Schlegell’s description of the setup of an interview: “Sylvia was surprised to see that the journalist had unpacked a flying Iye and set it hovering above her head. The little silver ball was turning, tracing the entire office in 3-D. …’Excuse me, Citizen Dobbs,’ Sylvia interrupted. She took off her helmet and looked into the Iye, shaking her luxurious hair. ‘Shhh.’ The machine whispered. ‘Go on as if Iye wasn’t here.’” Now, how is this different from today’s “just ignore the camera” or “talk into the tape recorder” interviews? It isn’t, in any meaningful way. And this familiarity within difference gives von Schlegell’s method of upsetting the stasis of Venusia a pointed quality: what happens is that a junk dealer finds a book about early Venusian history that upsets the apple cart. It’s actually a sentient-plant cart – the plant is a significant character – but the parallels between Venusia’s history (or non-history) and our own remain clear and pertinent no matter how outrageous the narrative becomes. And it becomes pretty outrageous – Venusia is a roller-coaster of a read.
Carl Hiaasen’s works are usually roller-coasters, but their setting is some variation of modern-day Florida rather than a space settlement. Hiaasen’s adventures have an out-of-this-world quality to them, though. Flush is his second book for young readers, after Hoot, and it too puts his off-kilter characters and highly unusual plotting at the service of an ecological message. Flush is all about the raw sewage being, shall we say, flushed into previously pristine waters and polluting previously beautiful beaches, all at the behest of a crooked casino-boat operator named Dusty Muleman (Hiaasen’s characters’ names are always redolent of their personalities). Young Noah Underwood finds himself on a quest to stop Dusty after Noah’s father tries to sink the dastardly Muleman’s casino boat, the Coral Queen, and is arrested. Joined by his sister, Abbey, Noah embarks on “Operation Flush” to prove that Muleman and his boat are responsible for all the recent pollution of the bay and the beaches. The good guys eventually win, of course, but not before the reader encounters such typically Hiaasenian characters as a deadbeat former Coral Queen crew member named Lice Peking and a mysterious pirate with an M-shaped scar. Flush is a romp, but a romp with a purpose, and if the message is a touch heavy-handed at times, the writing style and fast pacing never are. And there is no question that Hiaasen’s world, no matter how done-up and twisted, is very much our own.
Flush. By Carl Hiaasen. Knopf. $16.95.
Neither of the worlds in these books exists. Or both do. It’s a matter of interpretation, and of how you see where we are today. Mark von Schlegell’s Venusia is a traditionally dystopic view of a future society, except that that doesn’t quite capture it. It’s set on the colony of the title, an off-world place that has survived the destruction of Earth and is getting on quite well, thank you, at the end of the 23rd century. But all is of course not well. It is the way it is not well that makes von Schlegell’s book – his first novel – fascinating. Venusia is historically inert, its people captured by industrialized narcotics, holographic entertainment and memory control imposed for their own benefit by a totalitarian but enlightened government. Does this sound vaguely familiar? It should. Familiarity peeks through the strangeness everywhere here. Consider von Schlegell’s description of the setup of an interview: “Sylvia was surprised to see that the journalist had unpacked a flying Iye and set it hovering above her head. The little silver ball was turning, tracing the entire office in 3-D. …’Excuse me, Citizen Dobbs,’ Sylvia interrupted. She took off her helmet and looked into the Iye, shaking her luxurious hair. ‘Shhh.’ The machine whispered. ‘Go on as if Iye wasn’t here.’” Now, how is this different from today’s “just ignore the camera” or “talk into the tape recorder” interviews? It isn’t, in any meaningful way. And this familiarity within difference gives von Schlegell’s method of upsetting the stasis of Venusia a pointed quality: what happens is that a junk dealer finds a book about early Venusian history that upsets the apple cart. It’s actually a sentient-plant cart – the plant is a significant character – but the parallels between Venusia’s history (or non-history) and our own remain clear and pertinent no matter how outrageous the narrative becomes. And it becomes pretty outrageous – Venusia is a roller-coaster of a read.
Carl Hiaasen’s works are usually roller-coasters, but their setting is some variation of modern-day Florida rather than a space settlement. Hiaasen’s adventures have an out-of-this-world quality to them, though. Flush is his second book for young readers, after Hoot, and it too puts his off-kilter characters and highly unusual plotting at the service of an ecological message. Flush is all about the raw sewage being, shall we say, flushed into previously pristine waters and polluting previously beautiful beaches, all at the behest of a crooked casino-boat operator named Dusty Muleman (Hiaasen’s characters’ names are always redolent of their personalities). Young Noah Underwood finds himself on a quest to stop Dusty after Noah’s father tries to sink the dastardly Muleman’s casino boat, the Coral Queen, and is arrested. Joined by his sister, Abbey, Noah embarks on “Operation Flush” to prove that Muleman and his boat are responsible for all the recent pollution of the bay and the beaches. The good guys eventually win, of course, but not before the reader encounters such typically Hiaasenian characters as a deadbeat former Coral Queen crew member named Lice Peking and a mysterious pirate with an M-shaped scar. Flush is a romp, but a romp with a purpose, and if the message is a touch heavy-handed at times, the writing style and fast pacing never are. And there is no question that Hiaasen’s world, no matter how done-up and twisted, is very much our own.
(+++) GIFTS FOR THE SLIGHTLY SKEWED
Damn! A Christmas Book with Sex, Violence, Drugs and Fruitcake: The Aberrant Art of Barry Kite. By Barry Kite. Pomegranate. $17.95.
The Nutty News. By Ron Barrett. Knopf. $8.95.
By this time in gift-giving season, you have no doubt come up against a few recipients who are simply unclassifiable. They are, in a word, rather weird (okay, that’s two words). For those people – and only those people – these books may make delightful gifts, or at least suitably strange ones.
The ins and outs of the title of Barry Kite’s book are already enough to confuse those who are easily confused. The cover, which is also shown inside, is a hunting scene showing boaters with rifles on the River Thames, with the Houses of Parliament in the background. One man has just brought down none other than Santa Claus, who is falling into the river as his driverless sleigh continues flying high above. Damn! indeed. All Kite’s work in this book has the same sort of surreality and non-too-subtle undermining of traditional holiday spirit. A picture called “Seasonal Adjustment” appears to show an old-fashioned madhouse where all the inmates are Santa, except for the one who is Napoleon; a clinician’s hands are dispensing a pill in the foreground. One called “Maintaining Traditional Values” puts the Virgin Mary in a martial-arts costume and shows her kicking Santa for a loop. A picture based on Renoir’s famous “The Boating Party” adds Santa, the Mona Lisa (wearing Santa’s hat) and a Picasso nude to the group. Rembrandt’s “The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Culp” is altered to show that the true cause of death of the corpse being dissected is a gaudily colored fruitcake. To say this book is not for all tastes is to understate by quite a bit. But there is a sort of off-center charm to the pictures and to Kite’s discussions of them. It’s probably a great gift for someone who’s a little, you know, different.
If that someone is a child, though, you certainly won’t want to give Kite’s book. But you might consider The Nutty News, a reprint of a thoroughly silly 1981 book originally called The Daily Blab. Set up to look like an undersized newspaper, Ron Barrett’s book is filled with the sorts of oddities that even today are fodder for gossip columns and “lifestyle” sections: cartoons come to life and create chaos in the house of a human family; a man named Vasco de Sussman claims he, not Columbus, “discovered” America, and in 1942, not 1492; a hostage-from-birth named Rae Punzel lets down her hair from an apartment house so a rock star named Mike Rofone can climb up for a date; a “Your Dreams” column answers sleep questions; and a comics section includes such offerings as “Nothing but Action” (tank chase, speeding train and airplane crash in three panels) and “Captain Complicated” (too much thinking interferes with fighting crime). Most of this will provoke groans rather than gales of laughter, but some items are genuinely funny, and the whole project is sufficiently offbeat to make a really nice present for someone who is…well…sufficiently offbeat.
The Nutty News. By Ron Barrett. Knopf. $8.95.
By this time in gift-giving season, you have no doubt come up against a few recipients who are simply unclassifiable. They are, in a word, rather weird (okay, that’s two words). For those people – and only those people – these books may make delightful gifts, or at least suitably strange ones.
The ins and outs of the title of Barry Kite’s book are already enough to confuse those who are easily confused. The cover, which is also shown inside, is a hunting scene showing boaters with rifles on the River Thames, with the Houses of Parliament in the background. One man has just brought down none other than Santa Claus, who is falling into the river as his driverless sleigh continues flying high above. Damn! indeed. All Kite’s work in this book has the same sort of surreality and non-too-subtle undermining of traditional holiday spirit. A picture called “Seasonal Adjustment” appears to show an old-fashioned madhouse where all the inmates are Santa, except for the one who is Napoleon; a clinician’s hands are dispensing a pill in the foreground. One called “Maintaining Traditional Values” puts the Virgin Mary in a martial-arts costume and shows her kicking Santa for a loop. A picture based on Renoir’s famous “The Boating Party” adds Santa, the Mona Lisa (wearing Santa’s hat) and a Picasso nude to the group. Rembrandt’s “The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Culp” is altered to show that the true cause of death of the corpse being dissected is a gaudily colored fruitcake. To say this book is not for all tastes is to understate by quite a bit. But there is a sort of off-center charm to the pictures and to Kite’s discussions of them. It’s probably a great gift for someone who’s a little, you know, different.
If that someone is a child, though, you certainly won’t want to give Kite’s book. But you might consider The Nutty News, a reprint of a thoroughly silly 1981 book originally called The Daily Blab. Set up to look like an undersized newspaper, Ron Barrett’s book is filled with the sorts of oddities that even today are fodder for gossip columns and “lifestyle” sections: cartoons come to life and create chaos in the house of a human family; a man named Vasco de Sussman claims he, not Columbus, “discovered” America, and in 1942, not 1492; a hostage-from-birth named Rae Punzel lets down her hair from an apartment house so a rock star named Mike Rofone can climb up for a date; a “Your Dreams” column answers sleep questions; and a comics section includes such offerings as “Nothing but Action” (tank chase, speeding train and airplane crash in three panels) and “Captain Complicated” (too much thinking interferes with fighting crime). Most of this will provoke groans rather than gales of laughter, but some items are genuinely funny, and the whole project is sufficiently offbeat to make a really nice present for someone who is…well…sufficiently offbeat.
(++) TAKE YOUR INNER CHILD TO WORK
How to Negotiate Like a Child: Unleash the Little Monster Within to Get Everything You Want. By Bill Adler, Jr. AMACOM. $17.95.
It is Bill Adler’s thesis that everyone has an inner brat and that said brat can be used effectively to win at negotiations and succeed in business.
Thank goodness this book is written at least partly tongue-in-cheek. We have far too many adult children in business already.
Adler is a book packager by profession. Give him credit for knowing what the market wants and how to package it. People want simple solutions that don’t really require them to learn anything new, presented with punch and attitude in books that are not too long (this one runs 161 pages). Studying, working hard, networking and analyzing situations carefully are far less interesting than throwing temper tantrums, crying, winning through sympathy and winning through cuteness – some of the techniques Adler recommends here. Again, to be sure, there is a tongue-in-cheek quality to the book, but that tongue is not too firmly planted. Consider: “Make Weak Promises” is one Adler suggestion. He draws attention to kids’ promises to care for a dog if the family gets one and to clean up a room after bedtime – promises both child and parents know will not be kept, but ones in which “hope nearly always triumphs over experience.” Adler explains how this works in the book business, his area of expertise: an author promises a celebrity endorsement to get a contract, and does indeed try to get in touch with a celebrity; no endorsement is forthcoming; but the publisher always thought it was a long shot, and by the time the “no” arrives, “the book contract is already signed and the book has taken up a slot in the fall release schedule.” Adler then shows how to use the weak promise to get what you want, while saving face by having a not-too-unreasonable backup to turn to when the original promise cannot be kept. How tongue-in-cheek is all this? Not very.
And that is the way the whole book goes. Kids will cry anywhere, to get anything, writes Adler, so why shouldn’t adults? “When you cry, the person with whom you are negotiating will have to break stride and deal with your crying. …The tone and substance of the negotiations will no longer be under the control of that individual; you will be in charge.”
And so it goes, page after page – ideas about underhanded techniques for succeeding in business, presented with just enough humor to give Adler plausible deniability if anyone accuses him of cheapening discourse and undermining workplace ethics. “Who, me?” Adler can say. “I was only kidding around.” Don’t you believe it: it’s the same sort of thing a child says after injuring another. The injury is no less real, and the lie compounds rather than forgives it. You just have to see through it; that’s all.
It is Bill Adler’s thesis that everyone has an inner brat and that said brat can be used effectively to win at negotiations and succeed in business.
Thank goodness this book is written at least partly tongue-in-cheek. We have far too many adult children in business already.
Adler is a book packager by profession. Give him credit for knowing what the market wants and how to package it. People want simple solutions that don’t really require them to learn anything new, presented with punch and attitude in books that are not too long (this one runs 161 pages). Studying, working hard, networking and analyzing situations carefully are far less interesting than throwing temper tantrums, crying, winning through sympathy and winning through cuteness – some of the techniques Adler recommends here. Again, to be sure, there is a tongue-in-cheek quality to the book, but that tongue is not too firmly planted. Consider: “Make Weak Promises” is one Adler suggestion. He draws attention to kids’ promises to care for a dog if the family gets one and to clean up a room after bedtime – promises both child and parents know will not be kept, but ones in which “hope nearly always triumphs over experience.” Adler explains how this works in the book business, his area of expertise: an author promises a celebrity endorsement to get a contract, and does indeed try to get in touch with a celebrity; no endorsement is forthcoming; but the publisher always thought it was a long shot, and by the time the “no” arrives, “the book contract is already signed and the book has taken up a slot in the fall release schedule.” Adler then shows how to use the weak promise to get what you want, while saving face by having a not-too-unreasonable backup to turn to when the original promise cannot be kept. How tongue-in-cheek is all this? Not very.
And that is the way the whole book goes. Kids will cry anywhere, to get anything, writes Adler, so why shouldn’t adults? “When you cry, the person with whom you are negotiating will have to break stride and deal with your crying. …The tone and substance of the negotiations will no longer be under the control of that individual; you will be in charge.”
And so it goes, page after page – ideas about underhanded techniques for succeeding in business, presented with just enough humor to give Adler plausible deniability if anyone accuses him of cheapening discourse and undermining workplace ethics. “Who, me?” Adler can say. “I was only kidding around.” Don’t you believe it: it’s the same sort of thing a child says after injuring another. The injury is no less real, and the lie compounds rather than forgives it. You just have to see through it; that’s all.
(+++) PRODUCTIVITY, STUDENT STYLE
Microsoft Student 2006. Windows Professional 2000 with Service Pack 4, or Windows XP. Microsoft. $69.95.
Think of this as a “homework helper deluxe.” Microsoft Student 2006 combines homework tools from recent editions of Microsoft’s Encarta encyclopedia, adds a variety of bells and whistles, and ends up with a series of templates, toolbars and tutorials to make middle-school and high-school homework easier to do and more professional in appearance.
The software includes a Web Companion to pull in results from major online search engines without needing to open a browser; a full copy of the latest Microsoft Encarta Premium encyclopedia; and a Learning Essentials for Students module to make it easier for student to write reports, create diagrams, build charts and more. There are tools for managing group projects, too, and an especially neat graphing calculator that displays in either 2-D or 3-D and, with an extensive Equations Library, does trigonometry, calculus, geometry, physics and chemistry – all in full color.
This is an impressive piece of software, but it is not one that can be recommended wholeheartedly to every family, and not one that parents should buy naïvely, in the belief that a student can just start it running and get loads of help with all aspects of homework. Actually, you can’t just start up the program at all: you must first install the clunky and cumbersome Microsoft .Net technology, if you don’t have it already – and if you use the version bundled with Microsoft Student 2006, you must then download multiple service packs and patches to repair the security flaws in that version. This is not fun and not fast. Before even starting installation, you should make sure you have gobs of available computer memory – the fully installed program requires more than four gigabytes! And be sure you already own Microsoft Office XP or Office 2003, because some elements of this program require those other ones, and buying the combination just to use the student software would be prohibitively expensive. In fact, this program alone is not cheap – kids already familiar with free homework help available online or through their schools, and comfortable using the Web for research, will not get enough benefit to justify the $100 cost.
Still, there is a great deal to like here. Online Math Homework Help gives step-by-step instructions and good hints for problem-solving (but only one year of it is included); plot summaries of numerous great books, and details of their authors’ lives, make book reports easy to design and can even make them fun to write; extensive guidelines for starting essays and reports make the design-and-format drudgery easier so students can focus on creativity; foreign-language assignments are simplified by the included translation tools, verb conjugations and spell checking for French, German, Italian and Spanish; and the automatic links to more than 70,000 Encarta articles – provided in a separate window that can be minimized – make it gratifyingly easy to organize search results.
Microsoft Student 2006 has some of the feeling of a beta release, though the software itself works flawlessly. Excellent elements are mixed with less-useful ones, installation is far from quick or seamless, and this software requires a computer with plenty of spare memory and several other programs already installed. If you do have everything this student helper requires, it can be a great one-stop shop for kids seeking homework help. But if you don’t, the cost of Microsoft Student 2006 is very hard to justify.
Think of this as a “homework helper deluxe.” Microsoft Student 2006 combines homework tools from recent editions of Microsoft’s Encarta encyclopedia, adds a variety of bells and whistles, and ends up with a series of templates, toolbars and tutorials to make middle-school and high-school homework easier to do and more professional in appearance.
The software includes a Web Companion to pull in results from major online search engines without needing to open a browser; a full copy of the latest Microsoft Encarta Premium encyclopedia; and a Learning Essentials for Students module to make it easier for student to write reports, create diagrams, build charts and more. There are tools for managing group projects, too, and an especially neat graphing calculator that displays in either 2-D or 3-D and, with an extensive Equations Library, does trigonometry, calculus, geometry, physics and chemistry – all in full color.
This is an impressive piece of software, but it is not one that can be recommended wholeheartedly to every family, and not one that parents should buy naïvely, in the belief that a student can just start it running and get loads of help with all aspects of homework. Actually, you can’t just start up the program at all: you must first install the clunky and cumbersome Microsoft .Net technology, if you don’t have it already – and if you use the version bundled with Microsoft Student 2006, you must then download multiple service packs and patches to repair the security flaws in that version. This is not fun and not fast. Before even starting installation, you should make sure you have gobs of available computer memory – the fully installed program requires more than four gigabytes! And be sure you already own Microsoft Office XP or Office 2003, because some elements of this program require those other ones, and buying the combination just to use the student software would be prohibitively expensive. In fact, this program alone is not cheap – kids already familiar with free homework help available online or through their schools, and comfortable using the Web for research, will not get enough benefit to justify the $100 cost.
Still, there is a great deal to like here. Online Math Homework Help gives step-by-step instructions and good hints for problem-solving (but only one year of it is included); plot summaries of numerous great books, and details of their authors’ lives, make book reports easy to design and can even make them fun to write; extensive guidelines for starting essays and reports make the design-and-format drudgery easier so students can focus on creativity; foreign-language assignments are simplified by the included translation tools, verb conjugations and spell checking for French, German, Italian and Spanish; and the automatic links to more than 70,000 Encarta articles – provided in a separate window that can be minimized – make it gratifyingly easy to organize search results.
Microsoft Student 2006 has some of the feeling of a beta release, though the software itself works flawlessly. Excellent elements are mixed with less-useful ones, installation is far from quick or seamless, and this software requires a computer with plenty of spare memory and several other programs already installed. If you do have everything this student helper requires, it can be a great one-stop shop for kids seeking homework help. But if you don’t, the cost of Microsoft Student 2006 is very hard to justify.
(++++) BACH AND BRAZIL IN BALANCE
Villa-Lobos: Bachianas Brasileiras (complete). Nashville Symphony Orchestra conducted by Kenneth Schermerhorn (Nos. 2-9) and Andrew Mogrelia (No. 1); with Anthony LaMarchina, principal cellist; José Feghali, piano (No. 3); Rosana Lamosa, soprano (No. 5); Erik Gratton, flute, and Cynthia Estill, bassoon (No. 6). Naxos. $23.99 (3 CDs).
This set is a considerable achievement and a worthy tribute to Kenneth Schermerhorn, who died April 18 after more than 20 years at the helm of the Nashville Symphony. The Bachianas Brasileiras are a considerable achievement themselves, created by Heitor Villa-Lobos over a 15-year period (1930-1945) as a tribute to Bach and an attempt to meld Bach’s forms and musical purity to the folk tunes and popular culture of 20th-century Brazil.
It is tempting to see in these works a reflection of the huge, multifaceted country where Villa-Lobos wrote most of them (No. 9 was written in New York). But they are more a reflection of the composer’s own varied interests in musical development and orchestration than a direct reflection of Brazil as a nation. Villa-Lobos’ favorite instrument was the cello, and cello parts are prominent in most of these pieces, with No. 1 specifically written for “an orchestra of cellos” and No. 5 – perhaps the composer’s best-known work – for soprano and eight cellos. Yet Villa-Lobos sought other colorations as well. No. 6, a fascinating modern version of Bach’s two-part inventions, explores the upper and lower woodwind registers, being written for flute and bassoon. No. 4 was written for piano, though Villa-Lobos subsequently orchestrated it. And No. 9 was originally written for unaccompanied chorus.
The use of movement titles from Bach’s era – along with, in most cases, Brazilian subtitles – is one of the few things uniting these disparate works. It is possible to analyze the way Villa-Lobos adapted baroque forms to his purposes, but that is a matter for musicologists and adds little to the enjoyment of the pieces. It is interesting, for example, to know that the first movement of No. 4 alludes to the so-called “Royal Theme” from Bach’s Musical Offering, but one can appreciate and enjoy the music without being aware of this.
And enjoyment is what this set provides in abundance. No. 5 and the finale of No. 2 (a toccata known as “Little Train of the Caipira”) are the best-known works here, but there are so many other highlights that a listener is left amazed at how varied the delights of Villa-Lobos are. No. 1, for example, combines rich unison cello passages with ones exploring the upper reaches of the instrument’s range. No. 3 is a piano concerto – or perhaps an orchestral sinfonia with piano obbligato – filled with emotion and bird sounds. No. 4 is remarkably lush and vibrant as an orchestral piece. The warmth-suffused No. 1, intense and broad-scaled No. 7, virtuosic No. 8 and two-movement No. 9 all end with fugues, each of them quite different in sound and treatment from the others. There is no particular reason to listen to the Bachianas Brasileiras in numerical order, but there are many reasons to listen to each one of them. The blending of Bach and Brazil is always fascinating, the music is unusual and effective, and these performances are excellent in every respect.
This set is a considerable achievement and a worthy tribute to Kenneth Schermerhorn, who died April 18 after more than 20 years at the helm of the Nashville Symphony. The Bachianas Brasileiras are a considerable achievement themselves, created by Heitor Villa-Lobos over a 15-year period (1930-1945) as a tribute to Bach and an attempt to meld Bach’s forms and musical purity to the folk tunes and popular culture of 20th-century Brazil.
It is tempting to see in these works a reflection of the huge, multifaceted country where Villa-Lobos wrote most of them (No. 9 was written in New York). But they are more a reflection of the composer’s own varied interests in musical development and orchestration than a direct reflection of Brazil as a nation. Villa-Lobos’ favorite instrument was the cello, and cello parts are prominent in most of these pieces, with No. 1 specifically written for “an orchestra of cellos” and No. 5 – perhaps the composer’s best-known work – for soprano and eight cellos. Yet Villa-Lobos sought other colorations as well. No. 6, a fascinating modern version of Bach’s two-part inventions, explores the upper and lower woodwind registers, being written for flute and bassoon. No. 4 was written for piano, though Villa-Lobos subsequently orchestrated it. And No. 9 was originally written for unaccompanied chorus.
The use of movement titles from Bach’s era – along with, in most cases, Brazilian subtitles – is one of the few things uniting these disparate works. It is possible to analyze the way Villa-Lobos adapted baroque forms to his purposes, but that is a matter for musicologists and adds little to the enjoyment of the pieces. It is interesting, for example, to know that the first movement of No. 4 alludes to the so-called “Royal Theme” from Bach’s Musical Offering, but one can appreciate and enjoy the music without being aware of this.
And enjoyment is what this set provides in abundance. No. 5 and the finale of No. 2 (a toccata known as “Little Train of the Caipira”) are the best-known works here, but there are so many other highlights that a listener is left amazed at how varied the delights of Villa-Lobos are. No. 1, for example, combines rich unison cello passages with ones exploring the upper reaches of the instrument’s range. No. 3 is a piano concerto – or perhaps an orchestral sinfonia with piano obbligato – filled with emotion and bird sounds. No. 4 is remarkably lush and vibrant as an orchestral piece. The warmth-suffused No. 1, intense and broad-scaled No. 7, virtuosic No. 8 and two-movement No. 9 all end with fugues, each of them quite different in sound and treatment from the others. There is no particular reason to listen to the Bachianas Brasileiras in numerical order, but there are many reasons to listen to each one of them. The blending of Bach and Brazil is always fascinating, the music is unusual and effective, and these performances are excellent in every respect.
December 04, 2005
(++++) ORDINARY OPERA MADE EXTRAORDINARY
Gounod: Roméo et Juliette. Virginia Opera production conducted by Peter Mark. Presented at Center for the Arts, George Mason University, Fairfax, Virginia, December 2 and 4, 2005.
Virginia Opera’s productions have gotten so good that they can make mediocre operas seem exceptional. The company’s latest offering, of Charles Gounod’s 1867 Roméo et Juliette, is superb in every way.
Gounod’s work – the libretto is by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré – contains a fair number of scenes from the Shakespeare play on which it is based. But its sensibility is entirely different. Shakespeare’s work is about reconciliation through tragedy: the deaths of the young lovers end a multi-generational feud that has torn two families and a city apart. Gounod tells the story as a flashback, opening with a chorus of citizens from some time after that of Romeo and Juliet – a time of dullness, when people look back longingly to days of passion and intensity, as exemplified by the story of the young lovers. This undercuts Shakespeare’s purpose literally from the beginning of the opera.
Here is how Virginia Opera pulls in the audience so it doesn’t notice: the initial scene uses dark lighting, a stark setting and dull costumes, establishing a tone of tragedy to which the opera itself never quite rises. Before anyone can wonder about what that first chorus implies, we are swept into a brilliantly lit, bustling first scene of a party at the Capulets’ home – the start of the action proper. Stage director David Lefkowich, lighting designer Donald Thomas, scenery designer Peter Dean Beck, and artistic director and conductor Peter Mark grab the audience viscerally and never let go.
This is a marvelous experience, and one this opera sorely needs. It is the only one of Gounod’s 12 other than Faust that still gets occasional international performances, though Mireille remains popular in France. Gounod’s relentlessly bourgeois morality, exactly the sort of rigidity parodied so effectively by Offenbach, has the lovers not even singing together until after they are married (in their previous duets, they alternate lines). And the opera ends with them begging God to forgive them – “Lord, forgive us” is actually the work’s last line – presumably for their sin of suicide.
None of the opera’s flaws seems to matter here. The casting is excellent: Wei Huang as Juliet is a superstar in the making, with strength throughout her range, emotional connection to spare, top-notch acting ability, and a conviction that helps her make even the silliest elements of her role believable. Chi Liming makes a top-notch Romeo: intense and passionate, rough around the edges (and slightly so in his voice, which here works to his advantage), and thoroughly believable. Indeed, one aspect of the casting comes across as brilliant: having two Asian leads in a cast otherwise made up of Occidentals visually sets the lovers apart from their families and supporters instantaneously. There is nowhere they can possibly belong in this opera’s world except together.
Every supporting role is well cast. Jason Kaminski as Mercutio projects just the right mixture of impetuosity and flippancy, and his Queen Mab aria in Act I is a delight. Raymond Diaz keeps Frère Laurent right in the middle of Gounod’s conventional morality (one of the many plot holes: he marries the lovers to end the feud of their families, but then why does he forbid Juliet to acknowledge the marriage?). Michael Shell is all bluster and hot temper as Tybalt. Laurel Cameron in the trouser role of Stéphano does a wonderful job with her Act II taunting song that precipitates tragedy. Adriane Shelton as Gertrude, Juliet’s nurse, makes the most of a small role. The authority figures, Todd Robinson as Capulet and Scott Root as the Duke of Verona, are appropriately stately and oblivious.
But it is the overall presentation that ties everything together – as it should, but as opera productions often fail to do. In Act I, the silly waltz ditty that Juliet sings before meeting Romeo – a sort of G-rated Sempre libera – has Huang dancing energetically all over the stage. In contrast, as she and Romeo declare their love in the balcony scene, they move their hands slowly and very tentatively toward each other, with palpable yearning – and stop short of touching. The action helps distract the audience from the affecting but very conventional harmonies and from the fact that Gounod, as usual when he comes up with something effective, proceeds to milk the scene almost to death.
Elegant touches abound. Curtains are an important motif. In the introductory chorus, we see the lovers atop a stairway, and after the chorus, curtains close them off. Curtains reappear several times, being used both to conceal and reveal – again adding subtlety to an opera that otherwise lacks it. There are well-modulated lighting changes throughout, too – for instance, as Frère Laurent discusses the potion he will give to Juliet.
Gounod’s typical underpinnings are still there, for better and worse. The opera is tuneful and occasionally impassioned, though it rises only to the level of pathos, not tragedy. When Romeo says he will give up his name for Juliet, the orchestra launches into a trivial passage that goes nowhere. When the lovers discuss whether they are hearing the lark of day or nightingale of night as their wedding night ends, Gounod essentially goes through the whole scene twice – milking a nice effect again – and then brings the lark/nightingale image back in the final scene in the tomb.
The point is that this is by no means a great opera, but Virginia Opera makes it seem almost like one. Peter Mark’s company has gotten so good that it can afford to take chances outside the conventional operatic canon. To his credit, Mark clearly knows that: two of the four operas in the company’s next season will be works that are seldom performed. Bravo!
Virginia Opera’s productions have gotten so good that they can make mediocre operas seem exceptional. The company’s latest offering, of Charles Gounod’s 1867 Roméo et Juliette, is superb in every way.
Gounod’s work – the libretto is by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré – contains a fair number of scenes from the Shakespeare play on which it is based. But its sensibility is entirely different. Shakespeare’s work is about reconciliation through tragedy: the deaths of the young lovers end a multi-generational feud that has torn two families and a city apart. Gounod tells the story as a flashback, opening with a chorus of citizens from some time after that of Romeo and Juliet – a time of dullness, when people look back longingly to days of passion and intensity, as exemplified by the story of the young lovers. This undercuts Shakespeare’s purpose literally from the beginning of the opera.
Here is how Virginia Opera pulls in the audience so it doesn’t notice: the initial scene uses dark lighting, a stark setting and dull costumes, establishing a tone of tragedy to which the opera itself never quite rises. Before anyone can wonder about what that first chorus implies, we are swept into a brilliantly lit, bustling first scene of a party at the Capulets’ home – the start of the action proper. Stage director David Lefkowich, lighting designer Donald Thomas, scenery designer Peter Dean Beck, and artistic director and conductor Peter Mark grab the audience viscerally and never let go.
This is a marvelous experience, and one this opera sorely needs. It is the only one of Gounod’s 12 other than Faust that still gets occasional international performances, though Mireille remains popular in France. Gounod’s relentlessly bourgeois morality, exactly the sort of rigidity parodied so effectively by Offenbach, has the lovers not even singing together until after they are married (in their previous duets, they alternate lines). And the opera ends with them begging God to forgive them – “Lord, forgive us” is actually the work’s last line – presumably for their sin of suicide.
None of the opera’s flaws seems to matter here. The casting is excellent: Wei Huang as Juliet is a superstar in the making, with strength throughout her range, emotional connection to spare, top-notch acting ability, and a conviction that helps her make even the silliest elements of her role believable. Chi Liming makes a top-notch Romeo: intense and passionate, rough around the edges (and slightly so in his voice, which here works to his advantage), and thoroughly believable. Indeed, one aspect of the casting comes across as brilliant: having two Asian leads in a cast otherwise made up of Occidentals visually sets the lovers apart from their families and supporters instantaneously. There is nowhere they can possibly belong in this opera’s world except together.
Every supporting role is well cast. Jason Kaminski as Mercutio projects just the right mixture of impetuosity and flippancy, and his Queen Mab aria in Act I is a delight. Raymond Diaz keeps Frère Laurent right in the middle of Gounod’s conventional morality (one of the many plot holes: he marries the lovers to end the feud of their families, but then why does he forbid Juliet to acknowledge the marriage?). Michael Shell is all bluster and hot temper as Tybalt. Laurel Cameron in the trouser role of Stéphano does a wonderful job with her Act II taunting song that precipitates tragedy. Adriane Shelton as Gertrude, Juliet’s nurse, makes the most of a small role. The authority figures, Todd Robinson as Capulet and Scott Root as the Duke of Verona, are appropriately stately and oblivious.
But it is the overall presentation that ties everything together – as it should, but as opera productions often fail to do. In Act I, the silly waltz ditty that Juliet sings before meeting Romeo – a sort of G-rated Sempre libera – has Huang dancing energetically all over the stage. In contrast, as she and Romeo declare their love in the balcony scene, they move their hands slowly and very tentatively toward each other, with palpable yearning – and stop short of touching. The action helps distract the audience from the affecting but very conventional harmonies and from the fact that Gounod, as usual when he comes up with something effective, proceeds to milk the scene almost to death.
Elegant touches abound. Curtains are an important motif. In the introductory chorus, we see the lovers atop a stairway, and after the chorus, curtains close them off. Curtains reappear several times, being used both to conceal and reveal – again adding subtlety to an opera that otherwise lacks it. There are well-modulated lighting changes throughout, too – for instance, as Frère Laurent discusses the potion he will give to Juliet.
Gounod’s typical underpinnings are still there, for better and worse. The opera is tuneful and occasionally impassioned, though it rises only to the level of pathos, not tragedy. When Romeo says he will give up his name for Juliet, the orchestra launches into a trivial passage that goes nowhere. When the lovers discuss whether they are hearing the lark of day or nightingale of night as their wedding night ends, Gounod essentially goes through the whole scene twice – milking a nice effect again – and then brings the lark/nightingale image back in the final scene in the tomb.
The point is that this is by no means a great opera, but Virginia Opera makes it seem almost like one. Peter Mark’s company has gotten so good that it can afford to take chances outside the conventional operatic canon. To his credit, Mark clearly knows that: two of the four operas in the company’s next season will be works that are seldom performed. Bravo!
December 01, 2005
(++++) THE POLITICIZATION OF COMIC STRIPS
Candorville: Thank God for Culture Clash. By Darrin Bell. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
Prickly City. By Scott Stantis. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
Now Who Do We Blame? By Tom Toles. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
The greatest political comic strip of modern times was Walt Kelly’s Pogo. Reliably but gently liberal, it unceasingly mocked, among others, the red-baiting Senator Joseph McCarthy, after whose downfall an editor said he had seen enough of the character Simple J. Malarkey (representing McCarthy) and would cancel the strip if Kelly ever drew him again. Here is the sort of class Kelly had: he drew a final strip filled with the bombastic speech of McCarthy/Malarkey, using the speech balloons to cover the character’s face. It was obvious from the words alone who the character was, yet Kelly never drew him, adhering to the letter of the editor’s demand.
There is none of that classiness about the best-known political strip running today, G.B. Trudeau’s Doonesbury. It too is reliably liberal, but there is a stridency and self-righteousness to it that can make it faintly unpleasant to read – despite the superb art, highly complex story lines and well-defined characters.
It is time for new political voices in comic strips, such as Darrin Bell’s in Candorville and Scott Stantis’ in Prickly City. Bell is the artist for the Rudy Park strip, written by Theron Heir and also somewhat political in orientation. Candorville is all Bell’s and almost all politics. It is a multicultural strip that rises above (or simply ignores) political correctness. The three main characters have been friends since childhood: writer Lemont Brown, the closest to a voice of the cartoonist; Clyde or “C-Dog,” determined to be thuggish and ignore his inner emotionalism; and Susan Garcia, an up-and-coming corporate type who stays closely in touch with her roots. There are some easy targets here, as in a strip about “Democrublican” and “Republicrats” and their willingness to compromise principles to gain power. But most of the strips are more subtle. In one, various people look at each other: Muslim, Latino, black (Clyde), white, and finally Sioux, and all of them share the same thought balloon: “Worthless immigrant. I wish he’d go back where he came from.” In another, two people argue with interchangeable rhetoric, then start saying identical things, such as, “I’m not attacking you, you’re attacking me.” In a sequence, Susan’s company does multicultural training, bungling it badly; afterwards, Susan asks Lemont, “What could possibly be worse than their trying to understand my culture and humiliating me in the process?” And Lemont replies, “Not trying at all.” This is a genuinely thoughtful strip, with well-designed characters – and it is wonderfully funny, to boot.
Prickly City is something of a rarity: a strip with a conservative viewpoint. There have been others, such as Bruce Tinsley’s Mallard Fillmore, but Scott Stantis’ strip has heart as well as attitude. Prickly City is about the relationship between a politically conservative young girl named Carmen (who happens to be black) and a liberal named Winslow (who happens to be a coyote). The two live in a desert landscape vaguely reminiscent of George Herriman’s in the classic Krazy Kat. Some of the political points, such as ones about feeding tubes related to the Terry Schiavo case, are so dogmatic that they interfere with the character development (Stantis is, after all, editorial cartoonist for the Birmingham News in Alabama). But most of the dialogue is genuinely amusing. Winslow identifies himself as a “carbo-American” to explain why he stole Carmen’s Ho-Hos. Winslow parodies attack ads by taping Carmen speaking and twisting everything she says. After Carmen beats Winslow at chess, he demands his pieces be allowed a place at the table because half the pieces in the game don’t like the outcome. There are also pointed attacks on the absurdities of film propagandist Michael Moore, recently retired CBS anchorman Dan Rather, and others. And some strips make important points, as when Carmen refuses to choose a woman from her school’s “required list” for a report, picks Ann Coulter instead, and is sent to the principal, where she says, “I was just hoping for a little balance.” His reply: “How can you get a balanced education if we give you opposing views?” Think about it – this strip does.
Somewhat less successful than the other books – call it (+++) – is Now Who Do We Blame? This is not a strip but a collection of Tom Toles’ editorial cartoons from The Washington Post. Toles is successor to but no replacement for the irreplaceable Herblock, whose art and tastefulness readers could always admire even if they did not share his politics. Toles is more stridently liberal than The Post’s own editorial page, where his cartoons appear; and as in any collection of timely cartoons, this one does not wear particularly well. Many of the cartoons parody President Bush, shown as a moronic-looking elflike character with ears nearly on top of his head. Bush plants an environmentalist for Earth Day, supervises flying monkeys while wearing a Wicked Witch of the West costume, sinks into the quicksand of Iraq while insisting he will not make any decisions, and so on. Even when funny, these cartoons quickly become tiresome. The best cartoons here are more social than political, such as a Rubik’s Food Pyramid to show how confusing government nutrition recommendations are. The worst are tasteless misuses of the murderous 9/11 attacks, such as one showing the Capitol blown up, with smoke labeled “the deficit” drifting out, and the caption, “The 20th Hijacker Arrives.” Toles could use some maturity if he wants his messages to come across more effectively. Better grammar wouldn’t hurt, either: the correct title for this book would be Now Whom Do We Blame?
Prickly City. By Scott Stantis. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
Now Who Do We Blame? By Tom Toles. Andrews McMeel. $10.95.
The greatest political comic strip of modern times was Walt Kelly’s Pogo. Reliably but gently liberal, it unceasingly mocked, among others, the red-baiting Senator Joseph McCarthy, after whose downfall an editor said he had seen enough of the character Simple J. Malarkey (representing McCarthy) and would cancel the strip if Kelly ever drew him again. Here is the sort of class Kelly had: he drew a final strip filled with the bombastic speech of McCarthy/Malarkey, using the speech balloons to cover the character’s face. It was obvious from the words alone who the character was, yet Kelly never drew him, adhering to the letter of the editor’s demand.
There is none of that classiness about the best-known political strip running today, G.B. Trudeau’s Doonesbury. It too is reliably liberal, but there is a stridency and self-righteousness to it that can make it faintly unpleasant to read – despite the superb art, highly complex story lines and well-defined characters.
It is time for new political voices in comic strips, such as Darrin Bell’s in Candorville and Scott Stantis’ in Prickly City. Bell is the artist for the Rudy Park strip, written by Theron Heir and also somewhat political in orientation. Candorville is all Bell’s and almost all politics. It is a multicultural strip that rises above (or simply ignores) political correctness. The three main characters have been friends since childhood: writer Lemont Brown, the closest to a voice of the cartoonist; Clyde or “C-Dog,” determined to be thuggish and ignore his inner emotionalism; and Susan Garcia, an up-and-coming corporate type who stays closely in touch with her roots. There are some easy targets here, as in a strip about “Democrublican” and “Republicrats” and their willingness to compromise principles to gain power. But most of the strips are more subtle. In one, various people look at each other: Muslim, Latino, black (Clyde), white, and finally Sioux, and all of them share the same thought balloon: “Worthless immigrant. I wish he’d go back where he came from.” In another, two people argue with interchangeable rhetoric, then start saying identical things, such as, “I’m not attacking you, you’re attacking me.” In a sequence, Susan’s company does multicultural training, bungling it badly; afterwards, Susan asks Lemont, “What could possibly be worse than their trying to understand my culture and humiliating me in the process?” And Lemont replies, “Not trying at all.” This is a genuinely thoughtful strip, with well-designed characters – and it is wonderfully funny, to boot.
Prickly City is something of a rarity: a strip with a conservative viewpoint. There have been others, such as Bruce Tinsley’s Mallard Fillmore, but Scott Stantis’ strip has heart as well as attitude. Prickly City is about the relationship between a politically conservative young girl named Carmen (who happens to be black) and a liberal named Winslow (who happens to be a coyote). The two live in a desert landscape vaguely reminiscent of George Herriman’s in the classic Krazy Kat. Some of the political points, such as ones about feeding tubes related to the Terry Schiavo case, are so dogmatic that they interfere with the character development (Stantis is, after all, editorial cartoonist for the Birmingham News in Alabama). But most of the dialogue is genuinely amusing. Winslow identifies himself as a “carbo-American” to explain why he stole Carmen’s Ho-Hos. Winslow parodies attack ads by taping Carmen speaking and twisting everything she says. After Carmen beats Winslow at chess, he demands his pieces be allowed a place at the table because half the pieces in the game don’t like the outcome. There are also pointed attacks on the absurdities of film propagandist Michael Moore, recently retired CBS anchorman Dan Rather, and others. And some strips make important points, as when Carmen refuses to choose a woman from her school’s “required list” for a report, picks Ann Coulter instead, and is sent to the principal, where she says, “I was just hoping for a little balance.” His reply: “How can you get a balanced education if we give you opposing views?” Think about it – this strip does.
Somewhat less successful than the other books – call it (+++) – is Now Who Do We Blame? This is not a strip but a collection of Tom Toles’ editorial cartoons from The Washington Post. Toles is successor to but no replacement for the irreplaceable Herblock, whose art and tastefulness readers could always admire even if they did not share his politics. Toles is more stridently liberal than The Post’s own editorial page, where his cartoons appear; and as in any collection of timely cartoons, this one does not wear particularly well. Many of the cartoons parody President Bush, shown as a moronic-looking elflike character with ears nearly on top of his head. Bush plants an environmentalist for Earth Day, supervises flying monkeys while wearing a Wicked Witch of the West costume, sinks into the quicksand of Iraq while insisting he will not make any decisions, and so on. Even when funny, these cartoons quickly become tiresome. The best cartoons here are more social than political, such as a Rubik’s Food Pyramid to show how confusing government nutrition recommendations are. The worst are tasteless misuses of the murderous 9/11 attacks, such as one showing the Capitol blown up, with smoke labeled “the deficit” drifting out, and the caption, “The 20th Hijacker Arrives.” Toles could use some maturity if he wants his messages to come across more effectively. Better grammar wouldn’t hurt, either: the correct title for this book would be Now Whom Do We Blame?
(++++) STOCKING STUFFERS THE KLUTZ WAY
How to Make Pompom Animals. By the editors of Klutz. Chicken Socks/Klutz. $9.95.
Hand Art. By the editors of Klutz. Chicken Socks/Klutz. $9.95.
How to Tell Time. By the editors of Klutz. Chicken Socks/Klutz. $12.95.
Rescue Trucks. By Julie Collings and the editors of Klutz. Chicken Socks/Klutz. $12.95.
The Chicken Socks line of Klutz books – smaller, squarer and less expensive than other Klutz offerings – is still a bit too big to fit into most kids’ Christmas stockings. But some of the books can be used to make things that would be ideal stocking stuffers. So maybe these are gifts to give just a little bit early….
How to Make Pompom Animals makes little things that are just too cute for words. So the book is filled with pictures instead (okay, there are some words, too). There are plenty of pompoms included in a plastic pouch attached to the book – which, like all Chicken Socks books, is spiral-bound to stay flat when opened. All kids need to do is pick specific pompoms – there is a “what you need” note with each project to show which ones to use – and glue the pieces together (yes, the glue is included, too). Make a turtle from one super-large dark green pompom, one medium green, four small green, and two googly eyes; or a butterfly from three medium orange, two medium red, one mini-red, two googly eyes, and punch-out paper wings (the punch-out section at the back of the book is a particularly nice touch for more complicated projects). Frog, dog, cat, raccoon and others – you’ll find them all here. When finished, they fit into stockings very neatly indeed.
So does the hand-based art made with Hand Art. The plastic pouch with this book includes crayons, pompoms, googly eyes and glue, and the instructions are the essence of simplicity: place hand on paper in a particular shape (every page shows which shape to use), trace hand, color with crayons, and decorate with the other included stuff. Kids can make the traditional turkey or peacock by using their hands with all fingers splayed, or get even more creative to make a snail, cat, horse or bat (the last of which requires two hands and someone to help trace them). There are plenty of other ideas here, too: octopus, alien, dragon, giraffe, elephant and more – all suitable for decorating a room or refrigerator, or even stuffing in a stocking.
How to Tell Time is a more overtly instructional book than Klutz usually offers, but it is every bit as clearly written. You could put the included watch in a stocking with a tag color-keyed to the wrapped book under the tree. The book explains clearly and simply how to use the watch to tell time – and then offers some delightfully Klutzy illustrations of how long things take. “Stuff that takes about 1 hour” includes “eating 12 ice cream cones,” while “stuff that takes about 1 minute” includes “two TV commercials” – featuring a picture of a girl walking away from a TV set. The watch itself, with multicolored band and easy-to-read face, has clever elements of its own, including large numbers and red dots to be used when counting minutes by fives.
Rescue Trucks is clever in a different way. A plastic blister pack at the front contains four “rolling rescue rigs” that you could take out for stocking stuffing – again, color-coding a tag as a reference to the book under the tree. The book contains fold-out road pages along which kids push the trucks to rescue cartoon characters. One road runs through a city that is being attacked by silly-looking aliens. Another runs through a swamp; another, through a jungle. There are suggestions on decorating the roads to make them three-dimensional (“tape a square of paper to a flat toothpick to make a flagpole,” “cotton balls make great pretend snow”) and on using toy animals as part of the play. There are even pages to color – all adding up to great fun for Christmas or any holiday…and even for non-holiday days.
Hand Art. By the editors of Klutz. Chicken Socks/Klutz. $9.95.
How to Tell Time. By the editors of Klutz. Chicken Socks/Klutz. $12.95.
Rescue Trucks. By Julie Collings and the editors of Klutz. Chicken Socks/Klutz. $12.95.
The Chicken Socks line of Klutz books – smaller, squarer and less expensive than other Klutz offerings – is still a bit too big to fit into most kids’ Christmas stockings. But some of the books can be used to make things that would be ideal stocking stuffers. So maybe these are gifts to give just a little bit early….
How to Make Pompom Animals makes little things that are just too cute for words. So the book is filled with pictures instead (okay, there are some words, too). There are plenty of pompoms included in a plastic pouch attached to the book – which, like all Chicken Socks books, is spiral-bound to stay flat when opened. All kids need to do is pick specific pompoms – there is a “what you need” note with each project to show which ones to use – and glue the pieces together (yes, the glue is included, too). Make a turtle from one super-large dark green pompom, one medium green, four small green, and two googly eyes; or a butterfly from three medium orange, two medium red, one mini-red, two googly eyes, and punch-out paper wings (the punch-out section at the back of the book is a particularly nice touch for more complicated projects). Frog, dog, cat, raccoon and others – you’ll find them all here. When finished, they fit into stockings very neatly indeed.
So does the hand-based art made with Hand Art. The plastic pouch with this book includes crayons, pompoms, googly eyes and glue, and the instructions are the essence of simplicity: place hand on paper in a particular shape (every page shows which shape to use), trace hand, color with crayons, and decorate with the other included stuff. Kids can make the traditional turkey or peacock by using their hands with all fingers splayed, or get even more creative to make a snail, cat, horse or bat (the last of which requires two hands and someone to help trace them). There are plenty of other ideas here, too: octopus, alien, dragon, giraffe, elephant and more – all suitable for decorating a room or refrigerator, or even stuffing in a stocking.
How to Tell Time is a more overtly instructional book than Klutz usually offers, but it is every bit as clearly written. You could put the included watch in a stocking with a tag color-keyed to the wrapped book under the tree. The book explains clearly and simply how to use the watch to tell time – and then offers some delightfully Klutzy illustrations of how long things take. “Stuff that takes about 1 hour” includes “eating 12 ice cream cones,” while “stuff that takes about 1 minute” includes “two TV commercials” – featuring a picture of a girl walking away from a TV set. The watch itself, with multicolored band and easy-to-read face, has clever elements of its own, including large numbers and red dots to be used when counting minutes by fives.
Rescue Trucks is clever in a different way. A plastic blister pack at the front contains four “rolling rescue rigs” that you could take out for stocking stuffing – again, color-coding a tag as a reference to the book under the tree. The book contains fold-out road pages along which kids push the trucks to rescue cartoon characters. One road runs through a city that is being attacked by silly-looking aliens. Another runs through a swamp; another, through a jungle. There are suggestions on decorating the roads to make them three-dimensional (“tape a square of paper to a flat toothpick to make a flagpole,” “cotton balls make great pretend snow”) and on using toy animals as part of the play. There are even pages to color – all adding up to great fun for Christmas or any holiday…and even for non-holiday days.
(++++) WORLD VIEWS
A Left-Hand Turn Around the World: Chasing the Mystery and Meaning of All Things Southpaw. By David Wolman. Da Capo. $23.95.
Scholastic Book of World Records 2006. By Jenifer Corr Morse. Scholastic. $9.99.
Much of society has a longstanding, deeply ingrained preference for the right-handed and bias against the left-handed. Consider the Latin words: dexter means “right,” and gives us the positive connotations of the word “dexterous”; “sinister” means “left,” and there is nothing positive about the meaning of the modern word “sinister.” Yet there are also persistent rumors that the left-handed are more creative than righties; and certainly their minority status tends to produce an instant bond. The left-handed David Wolman spent a year touring the world of left-handedness, which meant literally touring the world, and then produced a delightfully quirky work of popular science that also possesses serious elements. Wolman visited neuroscientists, psychologists, left-handed golf enthusiasts, palm readers, and Left Hand, West Virginia. One of his most fascinating chapters is about the Yerkes Primate Research Center in Atlanta, where psychobiologist Bill Hopkins believes he has discovered handedness in chimpanzees – a matter of considerable controversy. Wolman’s overview of Hopkins’ exploratory method gives a good sample of this book’s style: “Chimpanzees will throw sticks, bits of food, and dirt, but most often shit, usually at their friendly neighborhood primatologists. …’If they’re going to throw at me, I figure I’m going to get some data out of it,’ says Hopkins, as only a true scientists could.” Wolman’s book is part travelogue, part explanation of scientific research, part humor – and all fascinating, not just for lefties but for the 90% of people who aren’t.
There is no world record for writing about left-handedness in Scholastic Book of World Records 2006 – if there were, Wolman would probably win it – but there are plenty of other fascinating records here. The book is arranged by broad categories (popular culture, science and technology, sports, etc.) and by specific categories within the broad ones: “Nature Records” includes animals, disasters, food, natural formations, plants and weather. The book does not pretend to be comprehensive, but it does provide an interesting, sometimes fascinating look at various sorts of record-breaking achievements. The world’s best-selling recording group, for instance, is the Beatles, but the world’s top-earning band is the Rolling Stones (who, in fairness, have had many more years of performing during which to earn). Some of the records here remain the same every year: the deadliest snake is the black mamba, the deadliest amphibian the poison dart frog. Others – in sports, for instance – may change year after year. The unexpected records are the most fascinating part of the book: the country that drinks the most tea per capita every year is not China – it’s Iraq; but the country that produces the most fruit per year is China (the U.S. is fourth). This is a book through which to meander on a stay-at-home day, idly flipping pages to learn about the largest asteroid (2001 KX76), the world’s most destructive tornado since 1900 (Oklahoma City, 1999), and the state with the world’s largest motorcycle museum (Alabama).
Scholastic Book of World Records 2006. By Jenifer Corr Morse. Scholastic. $9.99.
Much of society has a longstanding, deeply ingrained preference for the right-handed and bias against the left-handed. Consider the Latin words: dexter means “right,” and gives us the positive connotations of the word “dexterous”; “sinister” means “left,” and there is nothing positive about the meaning of the modern word “sinister.” Yet there are also persistent rumors that the left-handed are more creative than righties; and certainly their minority status tends to produce an instant bond. The left-handed David Wolman spent a year touring the world of left-handedness, which meant literally touring the world, and then produced a delightfully quirky work of popular science that also possesses serious elements. Wolman visited neuroscientists, psychologists, left-handed golf enthusiasts, palm readers, and Left Hand, West Virginia. One of his most fascinating chapters is about the Yerkes Primate Research Center in Atlanta, where psychobiologist Bill Hopkins believes he has discovered handedness in chimpanzees – a matter of considerable controversy. Wolman’s overview of Hopkins’ exploratory method gives a good sample of this book’s style: “Chimpanzees will throw sticks, bits of food, and dirt, but most often shit, usually at their friendly neighborhood primatologists. …’If they’re going to throw at me, I figure I’m going to get some data out of it,’ says Hopkins, as only a true scientists could.” Wolman’s book is part travelogue, part explanation of scientific research, part humor – and all fascinating, not just for lefties but for the 90% of people who aren’t.
There is no world record for writing about left-handedness in Scholastic Book of World Records 2006 – if there were, Wolman would probably win it – but there are plenty of other fascinating records here. The book is arranged by broad categories (popular culture, science and technology, sports, etc.) and by specific categories within the broad ones: “Nature Records” includes animals, disasters, food, natural formations, plants and weather. The book does not pretend to be comprehensive, but it does provide an interesting, sometimes fascinating look at various sorts of record-breaking achievements. The world’s best-selling recording group, for instance, is the Beatles, but the world’s top-earning band is the Rolling Stones (who, in fairness, have had many more years of performing during which to earn). Some of the records here remain the same every year: the deadliest snake is the black mamba, the deadliest amphibian the poison dart frog. Others – in sports, for instance – may change year after year. The unexpected records are the most fascinating part of the book: the country that drinks the most tea per capita every year is not China – it’s Iraq; but the country that produces the most fruit per year is China (the U.S. is fourth). This is a book through which to meander on a stay-at-home day, idly flipping pages to learn about the largest asteroid (2001 KX76), the world’s most destructive tornado since 1900 (Oklahoma City, 1999), and the state with the world’s largest motorcycle museum (Alabama).
(+++) TALL TALES OF THE PAST AND PRESENT
American Tall Tales. By Mary Pope Osborne. Wood engravings by Michael McCurdy. Knopf. $22.
Kung Fu High School. By Ryan Gattis. Harcourt. $13.
Political correctness isn’t really a good fit with American tall tales. The stories of the conquering of the frontier are replete with denigrations of Indians, blacks, women and animals. Mary Pope Osborne tries to do something about that fact in American Tall Tales, but unfortunately she sucks some of the life out of the stories in the process. Osborne admits to being “less than enthusiastic about the goal of conquering the wilderness at all costs” and wanting to “attempt to bring out the more vulnerable and compassionate side of the tall-tale characters.” No, this does not mean that Paul Bunyan takes up knitting or Davy Crockett tries to broker a peace agreement with Mexico, but it does mean some of the flavor that makes these stories funny (and gives them their longevity) is lost. The nine tales are about Crockett, Sally Ann Thunder Ann Whirlwind (a composite of several women), Johnny Appleseed, Stormalong, Mose, Febold Feboldson, Pecos Bill, John Henry and Paul Bunyan. Not all these tales remain well known today – Stormalong, Mose and Febold are regional stories – but all retain a flavor of a time when the United States was a much younger land, its people needing heroes to help them overcome the hardships of daily life. Even in Osborne’s somewhat Bowdlerized form, there is much to like in these stories, from the coyotes raising Pecos Bill to Paul Bunyan’s conquering of the “bee-squitoes,” bee-mosquito hybrids with stingers at both ends. Still, it’s a shame that Osborne was unwilling to keep these rough-hewn stories in something closer to their original form.
Kung Fu High School is a tall tale of today, the story of a modern school – officially called MLK High School – where order has broken down, gangs rule the hallways, and the principal is the puppet of a local drug kingpin. Intended as serious, Ryan Gattis’ book is often so overdone that it flunks the believability test: “’Where’d you get hit?’ he asked. I pointed to my leg and also to my lower back, right on my hip. Dad looked back to the television. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before. There’d been much worse. Some bloodstains we couldn’t ever get out of the carpet.” This is intended as gritty realism, but it comes perilously close to self-parody. The plot, which sounds like something out of a standardized action movie, doesn’t help matters: Jen and her brother, Cue, are with a few other students who try to stand up to the corrupt principal. Cousin Jimmy, a world-renowned martial-arts expert, comes to town after vowing never to fight again. This sets the stage for Cue to intervene on Jimmy’s behalf when Jimmy won’t defend himself – leading to a climactic battle of sort-of-good against evil. The ending is not a happy one, but in seeking profundity and deep meaning, it comes across as simply trying too hard. There is genuineness of feeling here, and an unnerving sense that the events are just a little too close to reality for comfort. But the book’s contrived plot and profusion of violence make it seem, in the end, no more than a fairy tale that’s grimmer than the Grimms’.
Kung Fu High School. By Ryan Gattis. Harcourt. $13.
Political correctness isn’t really a good fit with American tall tales. The stories of the conquering of the frontier are replete with denigrations of Indians, blacks, women and animals. Mary Pope Osborne tries to do something about that fact in American Tall Tales, but unfortunately she sucks some of the life out of the stories in the process. Osborne admits to being “less than enthusiastic about the goal of conquering the wilderness at all costs” and wanting to “attempt to bring out the more vulnerable and compassionate side of the tall-tale characters.” No, this does not mean that Paul Bunyan takes up knitting or Davy Crockett tries to broker a peace agreement with Mexico, but it does mean some of the flavor that makes these stories funny (and gives them their longevity) is lost. The nine tales are about Crockett, Sally Ann Thunder Ann Whirlwind (a composite of several women), Johnny Appleseed, Stormalong, Mose, Febold Feboldson, Pecos Bill, John Henry and Paul Bunyan. Not all these tales remain well known today – Stormalong, Mose and Febold are regional stories – but all retain a flavor of a time when the United States was a much younger land, its people needing heroes to help them overcome the hardships of daily life. Even in Osborne’s somewhat Bowdlerized form, there is much to like in these stories, from the coyotes raising Pecos Bill to Paul Bunyan’s conquering of the “bee-squitoes,” bee-mosquito hybrids with stingers at both ends. Still, it’s a shame that Osborne was unwilling to keep these rough-hewn stories in something closer to their original form.
Kung Fu High School is a tall tale of today, the story of a modern school – officially called MLK High School – where order has broken down, gangs rule the hallways, and the principal is the puppet of a local drug kingpin. Intended as serious, Ryan Gattis’ book is often so overdone that it flunks the believability test: “’Where’d you get hit?’ he asked. I pointed to my leg and also to my lower back, right on my hip. Dad looked back to the television. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before. There’d been much worse. Some bloodstains we couldn’t ever get out of the carpet.” This is intended as gritty realism, but it comes perilously close to self-parody. The plot, which sounds like something out of a standardized action movie, doesn’t help matters: Jen and her brother, Cue, are with a few other students who try to stand up to the corrupt principal. Cousin Jimmy, a world-renowned martial-arts expert, comes to town after vowing never to fight again. This sets the stage for Cue to intervene on Jimmy’s behalf when Jimmy won’t defend himself – leading to a climactic battle of sort-of-good against evil. The ending is not a happy one, but in seeking profundity and deep meaning, it comes across as simply trying too hard. There is genuineness of feeling here, and an unnerving sense that the events are just a little too close to reality for comfort. But the book’s contrived plot and profusion of violence make it seem, in the end, no more than a fairy tale that’s grimmer than the Grimms’.
(++++) CONVERGENCE OF COMPUTER AND MAP
Microsoft Streets & Trips 2006 with GPS Locator. Windows 98 or later; Windows XP required for full functionality. Microsoft. $129.
The biggest problem with Global Positioning Satellite (GPS) systems for trip planning and driving is that you have to have one of the darned things installed to use the technology. You can have a system retrofitted to your car, but that is expensive and the system may not work properly (or look good). Or you can buy a car with a system already installed, but then you are at the mercy of the car manufacturer, which may or may not provide a system that is intuitively designed, easy to operate and not overly distracting when in use. And what if you have more than one car – not all of them equipped with GPS, or equipped with different systems that work differently? Wouldn’t it be nice if you could simply create your own GPS navigation system and use it anytime you like, in any vehicle you choose?
With Microsoft Streets & Trips with GPS Locator, you can do just that. The product has software and hardware components. The hardware, provided by Pharos Science & Applications, plugs into a laptop’s USB port and picks up the satellite signals that make GPS navigation possible. The software interprets the signals, shows your route on your laptop’s screen, responds to voice prompts for driving information, and modifies your route if you run into traffic, construction or other unanticipated problems.
Not all of this is new, but the 2006 version of this software improves significantly on earlier ones. Maps show buildings as grey outlines, not tiny icons – a big help in metropolitan areas. Major highways are easier to see then before. Directions are given by computer-generated voice on a turn-by-turn basis (this requires Windows XP). And there is a highly useful new feature called “Night Map Style” that relights the laptop screen so you can see your route easily at night (or on dark roads) without having to turn on interior lights. You see the roads in bright green against a black background – an excellent choice of color scheme.
This is the best Streets & Trips ever, but if you are going to buy it, pay for the version with the plug-and-play GPS receiver. You can buy the software without the receiver for only $29.95 ($39.95 minus a $10 rebate), but it is not all that much better than using a free online service such as Google Maps to plot your route in advance. What really makes Streets & Trips 2006 outstanding is the hardware-plus-software package.
Do not expect absolute perfection from this program (or any program!). You cannot type your exact driving speed into the route planner (Microsoft actually had this feature in Streets & Trips 2003, but dropped it) – you can only set your speed as average, slower or faster. And some information is out of date, notably when there have been changes in the exit numbers of interstate highways, or the names of streets. These are minor quibbles, though. Microsoft Streets & Trips 2006 with GPS Locator is a nearly unalloyed success – and is a program with which it is fun to play when you are not actively using it. For example, try “Dynamic Turn View,” which zooms in to your current position to let you see where you are and what directional changes you will need to make soon. That is as much fun to use in your own neighborhood as on a family vacation. The program’s main purpose, though, is not to be fun in itself, but to make traveling more enjoyable and less stressful – even if you don’t have the latest factory-installed GPS system in your car. For that purpose, this newest Streets & Trips is a big success. Even if you do have factory-installed GPS, you may find this Microsoft product easier and more pleasant to use.
The biggest problem with Global Positioning Satellite (GPS) systems for trip planning and driving is that you have to have one of the darned things installed to use the technology. You can have a system retrofitted to your car, but that is expensive and the system may not work properly (or look good). Or you can buy a car with a system already installed, but then you are at the mercy of the car manufacturer, which may or may not provide a system that is intuitively designed, easy to operate and not overly distracting when in use. And what if you have more than one car – not all of them equipped with GPS, or equipped with different systems that work differently? Wouldn’t it be nice if you could simply create your own GPS navigation system and use it anytime you like, in any vehicle you choose?
With Microsoft Streets & Trips with GPS Locator, you can do just that. The product has software and hardware components. The hardware, provided by Pharos Science & Applications, plugs into a laptop’s USB port and picks up the satellite signals that make GPS navigation possible. The software interprets the signals, shows your route on your laptop’s screen, responds to voice prompts for driving information, and modifies your route if you run into traffic, construction or other unanticipated problems.
Not all of this is new, but the 2006 version of this software improves significantly on earlier ones. Maps show buildings as grey outlines, not tiny icons – a big help in metropolitan areas. Major highways are easier to see then before. Directions are given by computer-generated voice on a turn-by-turn basis (this requires Windows XP). And there is a highly useful new feature called “Night Map Style” that relights the laptop screen so you can see your route easily at night (or on dark roads) without having to turn on interior lights. You see the roads in bright green against a black background – an excellent choice of color scheme.
This is the best Streets & Trips ever, but if you are going to buy it, pay for the version with the plug-and-play GPS receiver. You can buy the software without the receiver for only $29.95 ($39.95 minus a $10 rebate), but it is not all that much better than using a free online service such as Google Maps to plot your route in advance. What really makes Streets & Trips 2006 outstanding is the hardware-plus-software package.
Do not expect absolute perfection from this program (or any program!). You cannot type your exact driving speed into the route planner (Microsoft actually had this feature in Streets & Trips 2003, but dropped it) – you can only set your speed as average, slower or faster. And some information is out of date, notably when there have been changes in the exit numbers of interstate highways, or the names of streets. These are minor quibbles, though. Microsoft Streets & Trips 2006 with GPS Locator is a nearly unalloyed success – and is a program with which it is fun to play when you are not actively using it. For example, try “Dynamic Turn View,” which zooms in to your current position to let you see where you are and what directional changes you will need to make soon. That is as much fun to use in your own neighborhood as on a family vacation. The program’s main purpose, though, is not to be fun in itself, but to make traveling more enjoyable and less stressful – even if you don’t have the latest factory-installed GPS system in your car. For that purpose, this newest Streets & Trips is a big success. Even if you do have factory-installed GPS, you may find this Microsoft product easier and more pleasant to use.
(++++) COMPOSERS CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE
Ries: Piano Concertos opp. 123 (1806) and 151 (1826). Christopher Hinterhuber, piano; Uwe Grodd conducting the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra. Naxos. $7.99.
Hummel: Cello Sonata, op. 104; Piano Trios, opp. 22 and 35; Piano Quartet in G Major. Susan Alexander-Max, fortepiano; Micaela Comberti, violin; Simon Standage, violin; Jane Rogers, viola; Pal Banda, cello. Naxos. $7.99.
Ferdinand Ries and Johann Nepomuk Hummel were superstars in their own day: renowned pianists and noted composers. Today they are footnotes in musical history, and Ries is barely even that: he is best known as a writer (horrors!) because of his memoir of three years of study with Beethoven.
The problem for Ries and Hummel – not one of their own making – was the time in which they lived: after Beethoven’s transformative works but before the full flowering of Romanticism. The result is that much of their music, no matter how well-crafted, sounds as if it is neither here nor there.
Yet there are charms aplenty in the two Ries piano concertos played with great style by Christopher Hinterhuber on a new Naxos CD. Remarkably, both of these recordings are world premieres – that is how far Ries’ reputation has fallen. Ries deserves better. Both these works are filled with charm and drama, with well-wrought tunes and some unexpected rhythmic and harmonic twists and turns. There is plenty of sheer virtuosity, abetted by Hinterhuber’s very nice touch, and there is also a very strong command of orchestration. The New Zealand Symphony has never sounded better than it does here under Uwe Grodd: lines are clear, all instrumental sections are adept, and the ensemble work is excellent. Although separated by 20 years, these concertos both have an early-Beethoven sound about them, but they are far from being strictly imitative. Both finales, for instance, begin with cadenzas – one interesting touch among many. The very relaxed opening of op. 151 is another. Of course, these are not works at Beethoven’s level – but they are at Hummel’s, which is a very high one.
Actually, Hummel’s piano concertos do get some attention nowadays – certainly more than Ries’ do. But Hummel’s chamber music remains unfairly neglected. It shouldn’t be. There is elegance and gentility in all the works on a new Naxos CD. There are well-constructed surprises, too, such as the quiet ending of the posthumous two-movement Quartet in G and the silences in the finale of the Trio, op. 35. The earlier Trio, op. 22, has a finale marked “Alla Turca” that is positively Haydnesque, while this work’s first movement has unusually lovely ebb and flow. The most “advanced” music here – the longest and most serious work – is the Cello Sonata (which Hummel called “Grande Sonate”). It has great beauty, though considering the year of its composition (1826, a year before Beethoven’s death), it seems lacking in depth.
That was the problem for Ries and Hummel: they never adjusted, as composers or performers, to the grand sweeps of Romanticism increasingly expected during and after Beethoven’s life. Yet there remains a place for poise and beauty in music – not every composer needs to storm Olympus – and these two composers’ works, when as well played as they are on these CDs, are well worth hearing and rehearing on their own terms.
Hummel: Cello Sonata, op. 104; Piano Trios, opp. 22 and 35; Piano Quartet in G Major. Susan Alexander-Max, fortepiano; Micaela Comberti, violin; Simon Standage, violin; Jane Rogers, viola; Pal Banda, cello. Naxos. $7.99.
Ferdinand Ries and Johann Nepomuk Hummel were superstars in their own day: renowned pianists and noted composers. Today they are footnotes in musical history, and Ries is barely even that: he is best known as a writer (horrors!) because of his memoir of three years of study with Beethoven.
The problem for Ries and Hummel – not one of their own making – was the time in which they lived: after Beethoven’s transformative works but before the full flowering of Romanticism. The result is that much of their music, no matter how well-crafted, sounds as if it is neither here nor there.
Yet there are charms aplenty in the two Ries piano concertos played with great style by Christopher Hinterhuber on a new Naxos CD. Remarkably, both of these recordings are world premieres – that is how far Ries’ reputation has fallen. Ries deserves better. Both these works are filled with charm and drama, with well-wrought tunes and some unexpected rhythmic and harmonic twists and turns. There is plenty of sheer virtuosity, abetted by Hinterhuber’s very nice touch, and there is also a very strong command of orchestration. The New Zealand Symphony has never sounded better than it does here under Uwe Grodd: lines are clear, all instrumental sections are adept, and the ensemble work is excellent. Although separated by 20 years, these concertos both have an early-Beethoven sound about them, but they are far from being strictly imitative. Both finales, for instance, begin with cadenzas – one interesting touch among many. The very relaxed opening of op. 151 is another. Of course, these are not works at Beethoven’s level – but they are at Hummel’s, which is a very high one.
Actually, Hummel’s piano concertos do get some attention nowadays – certainly more than Ries’ do. But Hummel’s chamber music remains unfairly neglected. It shouldn’t be. There is elegance and gentility in all the works on a new Naxos CD. There are well-constructed surprises, too, such as the quiet ending of the posthumous two-movement Quartet in G and the silences in the finale of the Trio, op. 35. The earlier Trio, op. 22, has a finale marked “Alla Turca” that is positively Haydnesque, while this work’s first movement has unusually lovely ebb and flow. The most “advanced” music here – the longest and most serious work – is the Cello Sonata (which Hummel called “Grande Sonate”). It has great beauty, though considering the year of its composition (1826, a year before Beethoven’s death), it seems lacking in depth.
That was the problem for Ries and Hummel: they never adjusted, as composers or performers, to the grand sweeps of Romanticism increasingly expected during and after Beethoven’s life. Yet there remains a place for poise and beauty in music – not every composer needs to storm Olympus – and these two composers’ works, when as well played as they are on these CDs, are well worth hearing and rehearing on their own terms.
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