(++++) TAKING CHANCES WITH CONCERTOS

Beethoven: Piano Concertos Nos. 2 and 3. François-Frédéric Guy, piano; Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France conducted by Philippe Jordan. Naïve. $16.99.

Khachaturian: Violin Concerto; Concerto-Rhapsody for Violin and Orchestra. Nicolas Koeckert, violin; Royal Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by José Serebrier. Naxos. $8.99.

Copland: Clarinet Concerto; William Thomas McKinley: Clarinet Duet Book II; Concerto for Two Clarinets and Orchestra. Kim Ellis and Richard Stoltzman, clarinets; Slovak National Symphony Orchestra conducted by Kirk Trevor. Navona. $16.99.

Joseph Bertolozzi: Bridge Music. Delos. $12.99.

     François-Frédéric Guy and Philippe Jordan have completed their cycle of Beethoven’s piano concertos with a third CD on which they take some risks, and some liberties, with tempo and balance; and this time, for the most part, the risks pay off. No. 2, actually the first of the five numbered concertos that Beethoven wrote (in addition to an early E-flat concerto and a piano arrangement of the Violin Concerto), is not quite as light and fleet here as it can be, but it bubbles along pleasantly, and some of the orchestral touches – notably the strings in the Adagio – nicely complement Guy’s piano, highlighting elements of the accompaniment that are not always brought through clearly. No. 3 has sounded both darker and more magisterial in other recordings than it does here, and some of the balance emphases try too hard to be unusual (such as the timpani just before the end of the finale). But this is a generally subtle and well-integrated performance in which the music flows naturally and the back-and-forth between C minor (the work’s nominal key) and C major is handled fluently. Guy and Jordan deserve credit for taking a fresh look at these standards of the repertoire, and even if not all their approaches prove effective, their CD is very much worth hearing for its attempt to rethink the concertos without being in any way false to their composer or the time in which they were written.

     Nicolas Koeckert’s excellent playing in Khachaturian’s Violin Concerto is the main attraction of his new CD with José Serebrier and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. This is a passionate and warm reading of the concerto, especially strong in the first two movements. Where Koeckert and Serebrier take the most chances is in the finale, which they handle more soberly and with less freewheeling virtuosity than it usually receives. This lends weight to the concerto as a whole, but it prevents the final movement from feeling like a joyous release after the somewhat heavier material that has gone before (although this is scarcely a profound concerto). This is a well-thought-out interpretation even if not a wholly convincing one. As for the Concerto-Rhapsody, which is long enough to be a concerto of its own, it comes across rather less well. Khachaturian wrote three works with this title, one each for violin, cello and piano, and intended them to be mixtures of subtle emotionality and brilliant display. The brilliance is missing in most of Koeckert’s performance, though – not because he lacks the technical ability but because he seems to be holding it in check in order to bring forth the work’s long lines and rather surface-level feelings. As a result, the Concerto-Rhapsody often seems to drag, not because of tempo but because it wades through so much emotion. This is a valid approach to the work but not, in the end, as effective as one in which the brighter and dimmer sections are contrasted more strongly.

     Copland’s Clarinet Concerto, a staple of 20^th-century clarinet repertoire, gets a fine performance from Kim Ellis, principal clarinetist of the Symphony of Southeast Texas, with a particularly strong first movement in which the lyrical elements of jazz – effectively communicated by the composer despite the lack of percussion – come through with particular sensitivity. Ellis also does quite well with the jazz elements contained in the cadenza that links the concerto’s two movements – she says she loves this music, and her affection shines through. Ellis, along with fellow clarinetist Richard Stoltzman, also shows an affinity for jazz in the two dual-clarinet works of William Thomas McKinley on this CD. McKinley is an accomplished jazz pianist as well as a composer, and he has written three solo-clarinet concertos as well as a clarinet sonata. He has worked and recorded with Stoltzman before, and Ellis says it was McKinley who suggested that she and Stoltzman work together on this CD. What matters, though, is the music; and although Ellis and Stoltzman take something of a risk in weighting this CD toward McKinley rather than the better-known Copland (who was McKinley’s teacher at Tanglewood), the approach pays off handsomely. McKinley, now 70, retains a healthy dose of youthful exuberance in the two works here, but there is also considerable tenderness and a call for substantial clarinet virtuosity. The six-movement Clarinet Duet Book II features fascinating intertwining of the instruments, while the two-clarinet concerto (which has a rather off-kilter waltz rather than a traditional slow movement at its center) showcases brightness more than deep emotion.

     It is hard to say what sort of emotion Joseph Bertolozzi wants to evoke in his Bridge Music, which is essentially a concerto for the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Mid-Hudson Bridge that crosses the Hudson River between Poughkeepsie and Highland, New York. What Bertolozzi does is look at the bridge as a huge musical instrument, then use parts of it to create sounds that he arranges into a 10-movement suite: “Bridge Funk,” “The River That Flows Both Ways,” “Steel Works” and “Rivet Gun” are among the movements’ titles. As it happens, the bridge’s designer, Ralph Modjeski, was a pianist and classmate of Ignacy Jan Paderewski before he became an engineer, so this bridge actually has a musical connection. But whether this work succeeds as music – or as any sort of art – is debatable, and will no doubt be debated. Bertolozzi, who was born in Poughkeepsie 50 years ago, apparently has an emotional attachment to this bridge, but whether Bridge Music is ultimately more than a gimmick will be a matter of opinion. Bertolozzi clearly approaches the bridge in a musical way – the CD includes s 10-minute audio tour of the structure’s various sounds – and there is enough seriousness to this project to earn it a (+++) rating. But as for what it is, aside from an attention-getter – that is something that listeners must decide for themselves.

(++++) OLD PLOTS NICELY REPACKAGED

Pit Dragon Chronicles, Book Four: Dragon’s Heart. By Jane Yolen. Harcourt. $17.

The Reformed Vampire Support Group. By Catherine Jinks. Harcourt. $17.

Ghost Huntress, Book 1: The Awakening. By Marley Gibson. Graphia. $8.99.

     Fans of Jane Yolen’s Pit Dragon Chronicles will be delighted that the trilogy has now turned into a tetralogy. Yolen didn’t plan it this way: the first three books were complete on their own, and this followup volume comes more than five years after the third, A Sending of Dragons (the first was called Dragon’s Blood; the second, Heart’s Blood). Yolen does such a good job of re-immersing readers in the world of Jakkin and Akki (who have been in hiding for a year and presumed dead) that readers of the first three books will feel an immediate thrill of familiarity. This is all well and good, since Yolen herself dedicates the book in part to “all my fans who wrote demanding a fourth volume.” They clearly demanded continuity, too: Dragon’s Heart is not the place to enter this saga. Yolen knows this: she not only explains what happens at the end of A Sending of Dragons in a preface to the new work but also reprints that book’s last couple of pages. Continuation is everything here, and Yolen handles it commendably. So the question of whether Dragon’s Heart is as good as its predecessors is really irrelevant: it is certainly as well written, it carries forward the story of the three previous books, and it does what it is designed to do by giving fans of those earlier volumes an idea of “what happened next.” What happened is that teenage Jakkin and Akki have now discovered dragon-like powers within, such as a telepathic bond between themselves and with dragons – plus the ability to stay out in the terrible cold of Dark-After. Interestingly, Yolen refuses to take the easy way out by having the teens’ telepathic bond tie them more closely together: much of Dragon’s Heart turns on the two becoming estranged from each other because they see the value of their powers differently. Each becomes involved in potentially life-threatening situations, and both learn more about themselves through handling danger. “We don’t always know a hero when we see him,” says the old bonder Likkarn at one point. “And sometimes, too late to tell him, we recognize what splendid things he’s done.” He is not speaking of Jakkin or Akki, but he might as well be: it is only after they face themselves, their bond with the dragons and the realities and dangers confronting their planet that the full depth of their heroism – and its meaning for the future of their world – can become clear.

     While Yolen continues and expands on a plot she previously established, Catherine Jinks decides to take some old notions about vampires and twist them every which way. The result is a delightfully offbeat book about the sordid “realities” of vampire life and the many errors that non-vampires make when thinking about vampiric folk. For instance, “The garlic myth was triggered hundreds of years ago, when a nameless vampire joked about not attacking some woman because she smelled of garlic. I mean, how could anyone be terrified of a culinary herb?” So wonders Nina Harrison, fanged at 15, unaged since 1973 and thoroughly miserable as she subsists on her diet of one fresh guinea pig a day. Another myth disproved: “People often think that vampires live in decrepit old castles, or mausoleums, or sprawling mansions full of stained glass and wood paneling. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. Perhaps it would be, if all the vampires in the world were millionaires. But since the ones I know are just ordinary working stiffs (so to speak), their dwellings tend to be on the modest side.” For her part, Nina lives with – her parents. Jinks cleverly sets up a story about the ennui permeating the decidedly non-glamorous vampire world – and then upends things (and gets her plot really moving) by having one member of the vampire group destroyed. Yes, although other ideas may merely be myths, vampires can indeed be staked, and do indeed crumble to ashes if that happens. And when it does, Nina and her friend Dave (a vampiric former punk rocker) find themselves trying to solve a mystery and keep all the vampires alive. Well, not exactly alive, since they are all dead, but…in existence. The story becomes satisfyingly complex while never losing a certain amount of deadpan (sorry about that) humor. And throwing a werewolf into the mix certainly doesn’t hurt. This is an offbeat tale from start to finish, and one handled with considerable narrative skill. It’s fun, too.

     Marley Gibson doesn’t so much redo an old plot as take it at face value, which is why the first of her Ghost Huntress books gets a (+++) rating. This is a fairly straightforward story of a sensitive-to-the-paranormal teen named Kendall who moves with her parents from Chicago to a small town in Georgia and finds she can’t sleep because it’s too quiet. So Kendall’s dad buys her a white-noise machine – but instead of finding it restful, she finds it freaking her out, because she hears a voice coming through the machine. And it’s not her imagination – she’s able to record it and play it back. “Okay. I’ve got to be calm. I can’t lose my cool every time I encounter a spirit – or a suspected spirit. I am Kendall Moorhead. Psychic. Intuitive. Sensitive. Ghost huntress. No more wigging out.” That’s Gibson’s basic style for Kendall – a slight tinge of humor, chopped-up sentences, and a touch of sort-of-slang here and there. Kendall finds it remarkably easy to communicate with the spirit once she establishes initial contact, but there is nothing especially surprising in the methods of communication – cold spots, a pendulum whose motion changes, tightness in the chest, that sort of thing. Kendall’s enthusiasm can actually get a little irritating: “Man, I’m champing at the bit here. I wish the floaty lady would just appear and talk to me, like how Patrick Swayze blabbers with Whoopi Goldberg in Ghost. I know this isn’t a movie, but I wish it were.” Hmm…maybe that’s the author’s wish peeping through, but there isn’t really enough inventiveness in The Awakening to make a movie (well, not a good one, anyway). Still, there are some interesting exploring-my-gift passages here, combined with some very ordinary conflicts with parents: “You don’t have any abilities, Kendall,” says her mom. “You’re making it all up just to get attention.” Part of the problem here is that Gibson makes Kendall so determinedly normal, except for her psychic abilities. “Adrenaline is flowing through my body like an intravenous drug. This is a high like I’ve never experienced – not that I’ve ever done drugs or anything, but you know what I mean.” Making Kendall more interesting in future books would make the Ghost Huntress series more interesting, too.

(++++) OFFBEAT PEOPLE AND PLACES

The Touchstone Trilogy, Book Three: Winter Wood. By Steve Augarde. David Fickling Books. $17.99.

The Beef Princess of Practical County. By Michelle Houts. Delacorte Press. $16.99.

Love, Stargirl. By Jerry Spinelli. Knopf. $8.99.

     First came The Various, then Celandine, and now Winter Wood, in which 11-year-old Midge Walters must undertake a quest to Celandine in order to save the Various – a well-knit structure not only for this trilogy but also for its titles. The Various, a tribe of fairies that only Midge can see, will perish unless Midge recovers an object called the Orbis, which was last seen in the possession of Midge’s great-great-aunt, Celandine. The names are gently evocative, and the characters’ thinking equally expressive, as when Tadgemole of the Various says the tribe wants “to be gone from here, maid. We must find what we have lost, and so return to our own.” It is the quality of Steve Augarde’s language, more than anything inherent in his plot, that sets Winter Wood and its predecessors above other coming-of-age fantasies for preteens. The books are, quite simply, beautiful to read. Midge knows nothing about the Orbis until Tadgemole mentions it, but “then came a picture, a memory. She sat by water – a pool or fountain – and held some object in her hand, felt the cool weight of it, the smooth curve of the metal against her palm. …‘I…remember it.’” And so Midge, not even knowing whether Celandine still lives – she would be “a hundred fourseasons” if she does – sets off to find her relative…and does so quite quickly. For another charm of Augarde’s trilogy is that he does not spin things out unnecessarily. The book is barely one-fifth old – it runs more than 500 pages – when Midge and Celandine meet, but this is only the start of Midge’s adventure. For Celandine eventually remembers, in fits and starts, that she did indeed receive the Orbis, but she cannot remember what she did with it, and although “Midge had suffered so many setbacks in this quest that she had almost grown used to it,” this is a very great disappointment indeed. But, again, at this point we are but halfway through the book. Augarde piles adventure upon adventure, character upon character, event upon event, and deepens the relationship between Midge and the Various through it all, as clues lead in unexpected directions and treachery within the Various hampers the search for the Orbis – which, it turns out, is not all that must be found. Winter Wood is an unusually thoughtful fantasy, a particularly well-written one, and a most satisfying conclusion to its trilogy.

     The setting of The Beef Princess of Practical County will be just as exotic as that of Winter Wood for many readers: this is a story about competitive livestock showing in the American heartland. It is also a coming-of-age tale, and one told with both warmth and humor. The central character is 12-year-old Libby Ryan, a ranch girl who understands that animals are raised for meat but is having a lot of trouble reconciling that fact with her increasing closeness to two young steers, Piggy and Mule – which Libby has raised on her own. After a showing at the Practical County Fair, Piggy and Mule will be auctioned off, and Libby is far from sure how she feels about that. Nor is she sure why she has entered the Beef Princess beauty pageant, a decision that puts her in direct competition with the nasty Darling sisters. Well, actually, Libby does know why she entered – her mother pressured her – but she is not quite sure what to do now that she is a contestant. Michelle Houts’ first novel has a ring of authenticity and some nicely drawn characters, but it also tries just a little too hard to make its points – not only by naming the nasty characters Darling (and giving them the first names Precious, Lil and Ohma) but also by having Libby’s hometown called Nowhere, Indiana (Libby actually lives “fourteen and a half miles from Nowhere”). Yet even though Houts lays things on a bit too thickly at times, her novel gets a (+++) rating for its endearing protagonist – for whom it is impossible not to root.

     Jerry Spinelli’s Love, Stargirl gets a (+++) rating, too. First published in 2007 and now available in paperback, this companion book to Spinelli’s original Stargirl will be immediately endearing to fans of that earlier book – but there is nothing much really new in it. Yes, it takes place a year after Stargirl has moved to Pennsylvania, and yes, Stargirl has made some new friends (from a quirky five-year-old to a man who spends his time by his wife’s grave – “even in death, Grace was all he needed”). But the things that Stargirl fans will like the most about this book are exactly the ones that make it not quite as good as the original. Stargirl’s circumstances may be different, but she is just the same as she always was, complete with ukulele and rat. The book is written as “the world’s longest letter” to Leo, starting on January 1 and continuing to the following year’s January 2. This is a tale of small discoveries and small adventures, of Stargirl’s ever-so-slightly-skewed perceptions, of friendship and neighborliness and perhaps just a little bit about growing up. It is charming in its way – perhaps even a touch too much so – and those who love Stargirl just as she was in Spinelli’s original Stargirl will be delighted to have even more of her. It is, though, essentially more of the same.

(+++) MANGA AND MORE

Xtreme Art Ultimate Book of Trace-and-Draw Manga. By Christopher Hart. Watson-Guptill. $21.95.

Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen—The Junior Novel; The Last Prime; Operation Autobot; When Robots Attack!; I Am Optimus Prime; Rise of the Decepticons; Coloring and Activity Book and Crayons; The Reusable Sticker Book. HarperEntertainment. $5.99 (Novel); $4.99 each (Prime; Coloring); $3.99 each (Autobot; Attack!); $6.99 (Sticker). HarperTrophy. $3.99 each (Optimus; Rise).

     The continuing popularity of manga and its animated cousin, anime, is clear from the appearance of innumerable movies now being made for American and worldwide audiences. No longer Japanese phenomena, manga and anime have become true globe-spanning styles, at once distinct from other forms of cartooning and animation and related closely enough so that readers and viewers can immediately comprehend and enjoy them. And part of that enjoyment is in drawing these stylized characters yourself – which young fans will find surprisingly easy to do under the guidance of Christopher Hart in the awkwardly titled but very well designed Xtreme Art Ultimate Book of Trace-and-Draw Manga. The book is in three parts – manga, manga chibi and manga monsters – and explains the basics of each style before showing how to draw specific characters. Anyone who wants to draw manga, or simply understand its appeal more clearly, will find material of interest here – the different shapes of eyes for children, teenagers and adults, for example, or the creation of “monsters” (few of which are really monstrous) by starting with the body shapes of real-world creatures and modifying them (often with bits and pieces of other real-world creatures – a worm with crab claws or a creature with a cat’s body and rabbit ears). Much of the attractiveness of manga is in the characters’ eyes, but some of it is in the proportions: in standard manga characters, the head is about one-fourth of the body, while in super-cute manga chibi, the head is fully half the body’s size. Hairstyles are also important in manga, and Hart shows how to shape them clearly. The drawings here are simple and stylized, sometimes too much so: “Undercover Agent” looks just plain silly in a dress-like trench coat, and calling the adorable Bubble Baby and Cooboo “monsters” is stretching things to the breaking point. Still, the book’s basic structure is sound: each character is presented in four quarter-page drawings that start with its basic shapes and then add touches to give it personality; then the facing page shows the finished, shaded character. Comparisons of character types are especially good here, for instance when Hart draws the same girl in manga style and then as a manga chibi – and points out exactly how the two differ. Younger artists will have some trouble moving from the four quarter-page drawings to the finished one – there are often quite a few additions required – but more-experienced artists should find the book easy to follow, and even younger aspiring cartoonists will find at least some characters here that they can create (although not as adeptly as Hart does). Xtreme Art Ultimate Book of Trace-and-Draw Manga is an attractive introductory book for manga fans – and artists who get good at the basics should be able to move beyond Hart’s characters and create their own.

     Lest there be any doubt of the persistent popularity of manga and anime, one need only head for the local multiplex to find the latest summer movies made in this style. Just a couple of years after the film Transformers (2007) – loosely based on a 1984 TV series and more directly based on a popular line of toys – comes the inevitable sequel, Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen. And with it come the equally inevitable movie tie-in books, which slice and dice the plot well enough to earn (+++) ratings for families that simply must have some sort of souvenir, but which will be of no interest at all to people who have not seen the film. None of these books is likely to pull people into the theater, but none will disappoint people who have been there already and who really, really liked what they saw. The Junior Novel, by Dan Jolley, aims at the oldest group targeted by the film – ages 8-12 – and gives the story of the not-quite-beaten-yet Decepticons in the most detail; it also includes eight pages of Transformer pictures. The Last Prime, by Tracey West, is an even shorter novelization; it is aimed at ages 7-10 and contains black-and-white drawings rather than color pictures of Transformers. Operation Autobot (by Susan Korman) and When Robots Attack! (by Ray Santos) are picture books for ages 3-7, with big and bright drawings that tell most of the movie’s story and a few words (including the inevitable bam! and AAAAH!) to communicate the action. For roughly the same age range, I Am Optimus Prime and Rise of the Decepticons (both by Jennifer Frantz) are Level 2 books in the I Can Read! series: each gives only part of the movie’s plot, using big, bold drawings and a minimal number of simple words. Families that really want to immerse kids in Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen can even go beyond these books to some novelty items that will appeal to Transformer-fascinated preschoolers. The Coloring and Activity Book and Crayons (by Devan Aptekar) includes a variety of puzzles (with answers at the back of the book) and a number of movie scenes in black-and-white that kids can color with the three clever crayons packaged in plastic on the book’s front page – each crayon offers two colors, one at either end. But of course coloring books lose kids’ interest after the pictures are finished, so some families may prefer The Reusable Sticker Book (by Lucy Rosen), which includes two pages of reusable stickers that can be used to fill in a series of stills from the film. Nothing in any of these tie-ins is educational – or pretends to be – but if there is a Transformer devotee in your house, the various movie-spinoff books can be a recipe for summer fun that extends beyond the movie theater.

(+++) DARK SIDES OF CELEBRITY

Airhead, Book 2: Being Nikki. By Meg Cabot. Point/Scholastic. $16.99.

A Day in the Life: One Family, the Beautiful People, & the End of the Sixties. By Robert Greenfield. Da Capo. $24.95.

     One of these books is aimed at teenagers, the other at adults; one is fiction, the other nonfiction. But both are astonishingly similar in their single-minded fixation on celebrity – not in the sense of being famous for accomplishing something meaningful, but in terms of being famous for being famous. Certainly that is the premise of Being Nikki, the followup novel to Airhead, in which brainy but plain Emerson Watts went to a major store opening to look after her little sister, Frida, and a bizarre and never-explained accident caused Em’s soul to migrate into the body of teen supermodel Nikki Howard, who was on site as part of the store-opening festivities. This setup made no sense, and Meg Cabot – author of The Princess Diaries and other books that also made no sense but possessed the same quality of transformation – wisely got past it as quickly as possible so she could explore the implications of being in the wrong body. In Being Nikki, those implications get darker and more complex, as Nikki’s mother is missing (and Em feels she needs to find out what happened to her); Stark Enterprises, the company in whose new store the bizarre brain switch occurred, begins to look more and more like one of those fount-of-all-evil corporations with nefarious motives galore; and Christopher Maloney, on whom Em had a crush, like, forever, is now coming on strongly to Nikki (or is to Em in Nikki’s body?). While trying to unravel these mysteries of the heart and head, Em/Nikki also has a few things to do with her body – she is a teenage supermodel, after all – and she starts to wonder what Nikki did with the body when it was 100% hers, since a number of girls seem to think Em/Nikki is or was after their boyfriends. This is what passes for introspection in the book: Christopher had “never said he’d loved me back when I had that snaggletooth and didn’t look like the goddess that I did now. I mean, I was still the same person on the inside then that I was now.” And this: “Getting paid thousands of dollars to stand in a pair of leather pants under some hot lights for a few hours wasn’t that big a sacrifice. You do tend to lose your perspective pretty quickly after a while.” By the end of Being Nikki, it turns out that the real Nikki isn’t dead, as Em had thought she was, and that opens up a whole new set of completely unbelievable possibilities, some of which will be explored in the next book in the series, Runaway.

     The thing is, celebrity lives proceed in ways that are completely unbelievable to the mere mortals who follow celebs' every move so attentively. Cabot gets that right, and so does Robert Greenfield in his biography of Tommy Weber and Susan “Puss” Coriat. Never heard of them? They’re old news – very old news – and for that reason alone, A Day in the Life is less than wholly enthralling. Tommy and Puss were wealthy, privileged Brits cutting a swath through Swinging London in the 1960s. Upper crust, enamored of drugs and free love but not of responsibility, they moved among the folk heroes of the day (Mick Jagger, Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Keith Richards – who called Weber “Tommy the Tumbling Dice”) in a typical swirl of celebrities feeding off each other. Married in 1964 after a widely followed celebrity romance, they produced two sons and much heartbreak for each other and those around them. Puss died in 1971, Tommy not until 2006; their story is one of failed (or lacking) aspirations, pie-in-the-sky planning, wasted inheritance and (more arguably) wasted talent, and eventual descent into familiar elements of celebrity hell, including wildly extravagant spending and drug smuggling as well as drug use. Greenfield tries to generate some sympathy for Puss and Tommy (whose birth name was Thomas Ejnar Arkner) by focusing on their difficult, neglectful childhoods. But it really doesn’t work – they come across as spoiled “poor little rich kids” who should probably never have had children of their own but whose own children seem to have overcome their parents’ legacy and to be doing all right (one, Jake Weber of NBC’s Medium, is promoting Greenfield’s book). This is a sad story but scarcely a tragic one, and Greenfield fills the book with so many “celebrity moments” – Tommy or Puss with one famous or formerly famous person or another – that A Day in the Life comes across as just the sort of voyeurism it pretends to decry. Greenfield eventually concludes with a cascade of clichés: “Born to privilege, Puss and Tommy threw away opportunities that others never had. …[T]he best anyone can offer is the hope they have both found the kind of peace in death that they never knew in life.” This is a (++) book trying hard to be more important than it is, although generous readers may give it (+++) for its accurate portrayal of some of the less-than-“groovy” aspects of the Swinging Sixties.

(++++) SPARKLING REISSUES

Tchaikovsky: Orchestral Suites Nos. 1-4; Romeo and Juliet; Francesca da Rimini; Capriccio Italien. Radio-Sinfonieorchester Stuttgart and Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields conducted by Sir Neville Marriner. Phoenix Edition. $16.99 (3 CDs).

Prokofiev: Piano Concertos Nos. 1-5. Boris Berman, piano (Nos. 1, 4, 5); Horacio Gutiérrez, piano (nos. 2, 3). Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra conducted by Neeme Järvi. Chandos. $18.99 (2 CDs).

Stravinsky: The Rake’s Progress. Jayne West, Jon Garrison, Arthur Woodley, John Cheek, Shirley Love, Wendy White; Gregg Smith Singers and Orchestra of St. Luke’s conducted by Robert Craft. Naxos. $17.99 (2 CDs).

     Here are three well-priced multi-CD sets that sound at least as good in these newly reissued forms as the performances did when originally released. Sir Neville Marriner’s version of the four Tchaikovsky orchestral suites – all composed between the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies, a time when Tchaikovsky also wrote his Manfred Symphony – is the oldest recording here, dating back to 1987. But it still sounds quite fine, and even though Marriner is not conducting his usual Academy of St. Martin-in-the-Fields in the suites, he elicits fine sound and excellent responsiveness from the Radio-Sinfonieorchester Stuttgart. Marriner and his Academy are together for the three overtures on the third CD in the set, which were recorded in 1991 and 1992. All the performances are very well paced and nicely scaled – the largest and most symphonic movement in the suites, the final Tema con variazoni of No. 3, is as big, loud and brassy as anyone could wish, while the much more modest proportions of the “Mozartiana” suite, No. 4, come across in a performance with fine balance and pleasant flow. Suites Nos. 1 and 2 are the least often heard of the four, but Marriner does not give them short shrift, and in fact uncovers considerable beauty in No. 1 and a fine sense of bounce and drive in No. 2. Romeo and Juliet, Francesca da Rimini and Capriccio Italien all resound with enthusiasm, with the last of them making a very upbeat, encore-like finale to the set. The only real negative here is a set of booklet notes that is truly execrable, featuring inaccuracies, poor translation and omission of any discussion at all of Romeo and Juliet or Capriccio Italien. Luckily, information on these familiar pieces is readily available elsewhere.

     It is the controlling hand of Neeme Järvi – conducting the wonderful Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra rather than the Gothenberg Symphony with which he is more closely associated – that provides the continuity in the set of Prokofiev piano concertos, which feature equally virtuosic performances by two different pianists. Boris Berman’s three contributions date to 1989, Horacio Gutiérrez’ two to 1990. This was a period in which Järvi was quite intensely involved with the Gothenberg ensemble, which he led from 1982 to 2004; but he clearly rose to the occasion of directing the Royal Concertgebouw, a stronger and better-balanced orchestra with especially excellent brass. Both Berman and Gutiérrez are easily equal to the challenges of Prokofiev – or rather, both make it seem easy to surmount these works’ considerable difficulties. And both seem to relish the many purely virtuosic displays of these concertos while also enjoying a bit of respite in the slower and more delicate passages (of which, admittedly, there are not many). Berman’s readings may be very slightly more idiomatic and a touch more attuned to Prokofiev’s frequent sarcastic passages than those of Gutiérrez, but both pianists clearly understand this music deeply and play it with considerable flair.

     There is flair of a different kind in Robert Craft’s handling of Stravinsky’s The Rake’s Progress. This 1993 recording is as significant in its way as Stravinsky’s own Metropolitan Opera version of 40 years earlier. Craft was intensely involved with the creation of this opera – he provides some fascinating biographical and autobiographical details in his booklet notes – and he is at least as strong a conductor as Stravinsky himself, wonderfully bringing forth the composer’s irregular rhythms and his sensitive instrumentation. All the solo performers fit their roles very well indeed, with tenor Jon Garrison as Tom Rakewell especially well contrasted with soprano Jayne West as Anne Trulove; with bass-baritone John Cheek bringing just the right mixture of appeal and menace to Nick Shadow; and with mezzo-soprano Wendy White unusually affecting as Baba the Turk. The Gregg Smith Singers are a big reason for this performance’s success – they are as enthusiastic as they are attuned to the music. And the Orchestra of St. Luke’s has a textural transparency that helps Stravinsky’s musical lines come through with wonderful clarity and in excellent balance with the voices – although there is no libretto provided, the singing is so easy to hear and understand that none is necessary (and the summary of the action is excellent). This latest entry in the Naxos Robert Craft Collection confirms yet again, if further confirmation is needed, that Craft is the pre-eminent post-Stravinsky conductor of the music of the man with whom he worked intimately for more than 20 years.

(++++) KEYBOARDS, ALONE AND PAIRED

Ives: Variations on “America”; Adeste Fidelis; Fugues in E flat major and C minor; Copland: Preamble (For a Solemn Occasion); Cowell: Hymn and Fuguing Tune No. 14; William Grant Still: Reverie; Barber: Prelude and Fugue; Wondrous Love; Stephen Paulus: Triptych. Iain Quinn, organ. Chandos. $18.99.

Scriabin: Poèmes, Valses et Danses. Xiayin Wang, piano. Naxos. $8.99.

George Onslow: Sonatas Nos. 1 and 2; Reger: From “Six Burlesques,” Nos. 4-6; Wagner: Polonaise in D; Liszt: Grand Valse di Bravura; Grieg: From “Norwegian Dances,” Nos. 2-3; Balakirev: Suite for Piano Four-Hands. Elizabeth Buccheri and Richard Boldrey, piano duettists. Cedille. $11.99.

Debussy: Sonata for Violin and Piano; Schubert: Fantasie in C for Violin and Piano; Bartók: First Rhapsody; Jörg Widmann: Étude V for Solo Violin; Astor Piazzolla: Le Grand Tango. Sinn Yang, violin; Marco Grisanti, piano; Harald Oeler, accordion. Oehms. $16.99.

Léon de Saint-Lubin: Grand Duo Concertant; Fantasie sur un theme de Lucia di Lammermoor; Thème original et Étude de S. Thalberg; Adagio religioso; Potpourri on themes from Auber’s “La Fiancée”; Salonstücke, Op. 47, Nos. 1 and 2. Anastasia Khitruk, violin; Elizaveta Kopelman, piano. Naxos. $8.99.

     There is no instrument with a greater range than that of the modern keyboard: 11 octaves on a piano and potentially even more on an organ. Indeed, Iain Quinn takes full advantage of the 61-note manual compass and 32-note pedal compass of the organ of England’s Coventry Cathedral for his fascinating CD of some very American music. Quinn has made an excellent selection of better-known works and little-known ones, including some recording premieres. He has a real way with the music of Charles Ives, presenting Variations on “America” with great flair, and including the two ad lib bitonal interludes that Ives added to the piece two decades after he originally wrote it. The other Ives works here, all early ones, have their own charms, with the surprising end of the Fugue in E flat major being particularly characteristic. Quinn brings his fine sense of style and proportion to all the organ works on this CD, from Barber’s well-structured, rather Romantic prelude and fugue to Cowell’s fairly bouncy fugal work, from William Grant Still’s effective miniature Reverie to Barber’s serious but not overly solemn Wondrous Love variations. The CD is particularly nicely laid out, opening with Copland’s Preamble, created in connection with the Declaration of Human Rights, and ending with Stephen Paulus’ Triptych, inspired by hymn texts and written in 2000 for the 150^th anniversary of the House of Hope Presbyterian Church in St. Paul, Minnesota.

     The layout of Xiayin Wang’s CD of Scriabin piano music is interesting, too: it opens with two waltzes written when the composer was 14, in 1886, and ends with two dances he completed shortly before his death in 1915. Between these bookends are a polonaise, a fantasy, several poèmes and a few other types of piano works. Most are quite brief: the Fantaisie in B minor, the longest piece on the CD, runs less than 10 minutes, with several other works running only a little more than a minute. Scriabin was not essentially a miniaturist, so this CD presents a somewhat skewed view of his compositions, but it is certainly very well played, and it does show some of the ways in which his style evolved from the Chopinesque to the mystical. Wang is a sensitive pianist as well as a technically adept one, and she brings a great deal of style and color to what is essentially a very personal recital.

     There is style and color as well in the two-piano works performed by Elizabeth Buccheri and Richard Boldrey and recently reissued by Cedille. Originally recorded in 1978 and 1985, these pieces sound very good indeed in remastered form, with George Onslow’s two sonatas (in E minor and F minor) being especially interesting. The “big names” on the CD, Wagner and Liszt, are represented by pleasant display pieces, but much of the charm here lies elsewhere, notably in Balakirev’s three-movement Suite for Piano Four-Hands. Cedille is a Chicago-focused company, and Buccheri and Boldrey were faculty members at that city’s North Park University when they began performing together. The music on this CD, though, has nothing provincial about it, although it does lean somewhat in the direction of salon pieces – especially in the selections by Reger and Grieg.

     The piano assumes the role of accompaniment in the works by Debussy, Schubert, Bartók and others performed by violinist Sinn Yang. Yet the keyboard’s range still comes through very effectively on this CD, which – like the piano disc by Xiayin Wang – comes across as a personal recital. Yang handles the standard-repertoire works here skillfully but a trifle perfunctorily: there is not as much stylistic difference among Schubert’s classicism, Debussy’s impressionism and Bartók’s folkloric modernism as there might be, although pianist Marco Grisanti offers very strong backup in all the works. Where Yang clearly comes into her own is in Jörg Widmann’s solo-violin work, written in homage to Paganini’s Caprice No. 6 – this is all flash and dash, and Yang clearly enjoys tossing it off. And Astor Piazzolla’s Le Grand Tango is a real delight in this arrangement for violin and accordion, prepared by Harald Oeler and played by him with great enthusiasm and a fine sense of rhythm.

     The new CD of music by Léon de Saint-Lubin (1805-1850) is also for violin and piano, but here the focus is clearly on the composer rather than on the personal preferences of the performers. Saint-Lubin was a famed virtuoso in his time, and wrote in all the accepted forms of the day: fantasies and variations on opera tunes, potpourris, large-scale chamber works and salon pieces aplenty. The Grand Duo Concertant, the most substantial work here, is well structured and musically effective, if not particularly original; the remaining pieces are pleasant to hear and filled with virtuoso opportunities for the violin and, to a lesser extent, the piano. Anastasia Khitruk and Elizaveta Kopelman pace the works well and toss the themes back and forth with aplomb. There is no profundity on this CD, but there is plenty of enjoyment.

(++++) CARTOONING WITH A PURPOSE

Being a Pig Is Nice: A Child’s-Eye View of Manners. By Sally Lloyd-Jones. Drawn by Dan Krall. Schwartz & Wade. $16.99.

Ocean’s Child. By Christine Ford and Trish Holland. Illustrated by David Diaz. Golden Books. $15.99.

The Amazing Spider-Man: The Lizard’s Legacy; Clash with the Rhino; Spider-Man versus Electro; Spider-Man versus Kraven. HarperFestival: $4.99 (Lizard); $3.99 (Rhino). HarperTrophy: $3.99 each (Electro; Kraven).

     The drawings add immeasurably to the appeal of all these books – but wow, are they different! Dan Krall’s pictures for Being a Pig Is Nice clearly show the influence of Cartoon Network, where Krall has worked on a number of shows. In fact, the little girl who roams through the book, thinking of all the great animals she could be so she wouldn’t have to deal with etiquette, looks a lot like the annoying sister, Dee Dee, on Dexter’s Laboratory, which is one show in which Krall has participated. Unlike that program, though, Being a Pig Is Nice is a “message” book – albeit a decidedly soft-pedaled one. The message, of course, is that it’s good to have manners; and Sally Lloyd-Jones makes that clear not by preaching but by having the girl discover it for herself. Krall’s hilarious pictures show a scrubbed, dressed-up pig being looked down upon as Very Rude because “you have to get muddy or you get in trouble.” But then the girl realizes that “when you’re a pig you smell and that’s not nice.” So how about being a snail, which has to “dawdle and crawl and trail behind and not keep up with the others”? But then you are slimy – again, not nice. And so it goes with the elephant that has to “squirt and splatter everyone and be very naughty in your bath,” and the monkey that must eat with fingers, “sit up crooked, elbows in [mom’s] face, fingers up your nose,” and so on. Each time the girl thinks of all the neat, unmannerly things she could be and do, she finds a flaw in her own idea – but what about being a monster? Now there’s a thought – which leads to a rather monstrous definition of manners that will have kids laughing at the end of the book (but that parents won’t want them to emulate!).

     The pictures in Ocean’s Child, a sweet and loving bedtime book, are also a key to the work’s attractiveness; but their purpose is to lull, not excite. David Diaz makes his pictures flow with gentle curves and lines that mimic the restfulness of ocean waves, as the text by Christine Ford and Trish Holland has a pregnant mother and her young child, in the far north, paddling a canoe and saying goodnight to all the animals of the Arctic: walrus, dolphin, whale, polar bear and more. Each goodnight ends with the same refrain: “To Ocean’s children we say good night. Good night, little puffin [or other animal], good night.” And at the end, after the orca, seal, otter and albatross babies have drifted off to sleep, the mother enfolds her child “in a sea of her own quiet dreams” and lets the waves rock her gently to sleep. Rhythmically restful and illustrated with impressionistic beauty, Ocean’s Child is a lovely nighttime tale for young children in any climate.

     You would expect the illustrations to be the main point of interest in a comic book, or in comic-book spinoffs – be they graphic novels, novelizations, easy readers, what-have-you – and in fact the pictures are the main thing in three of the four new books based on the adventures of Marvel’s redoubtable Spider-Man. The exception is The Lizard’s Legacy, in which John Sazaklis’ rather mundane illustrations take a back seat to Mark W. McVeigh’s story of the chaos caused when Dr. Curtis Connors is accidentally transformed into the evil Lizard. This novella is little troubled by the things that made Marvel superheroes distinctive from those of DC Comics (Superman, Batman, etc.): “superheroes with super problems” and “with great power comes great responsibility.” There is a slight family angle to the Lizard’s tale – Dr. Connors’ transformation endangers his son, Billy – but by and large, this is a straightforward bang-up adventure, worth a (+++) rating for Spider-Man fans ages 7-10. The three other new Spider-Man books also get (+++) ratings for their intended audiences. Clash with the Rhino, by Jennifer Christie, is for ages 3-7, with ample and simple illustrations by Andie Tong. The battles with Electro and Kraven are Level 2 books in the “I Can Read!” series. Both are written by Susan Hill; Electro’s illustrations are credited to MADA Design and Kraven’s to Tong. With their few words, very fast-paced stories and big, bright pictures, these short books will appeal to kids ages 4-8 who are already committed Spidey fans.

(++++) TWO CATS AND A PICKLE

Sugar Would Not Eat It. By Emily Jenkins. Illustrated by Giselle Potter. Schwartz & Wade. $16.99.

Catmagic. By Holly Webb. Scholastic. $5.99.

Magic Pickle and the Garden of Evil. By Scott Morse. Graphix/Scholastic. $5.99.

     Cats are not human. This is not big news, and should not be news at all. But sometimes people treat cats as if they are human – and that can be amusing, troubling or, as in the case of Sugar Would Not Eat It, instructive. Emily Jenkins’ book is about a charming little kitten – adorably rendered by Giselle Potter – who turns up on the steps in front of Leo’s building the day after Leo’s birthday. Leo happily adopts the kitten, takes her up to his family’s apartment, and names her Sugar. The kitten plays and naps and then is hungry, so Leo generously offers her the last piece of his birthday cake – but Sugar won’t eat it. Concerned, Leo asks advice of a number of adults in the neighborhood, none of whom appears to have any familiarity whatsoever with kittens or what they eat (this requires a larger-than-usual suspension of disbelief, but that may not be difficult for children ages 4-8 – the book’s target age range). One man says he was always told to eat in order to grow up big and strong, so Leo tries telling Sugar that – to no avail. Another man says his mother used to talk about how long it took her to make food – so Leo tries explaining that to Sugar, who still won’t eat the cake. A woman says she was not allowed to leave the table until she ate, so Leo tries telling that to Sugar – without effect. Nothing works (of course!); Leo gets frustrated; all the unhelpful adults warn Leo not to “give in” to Sugar’s refusal to eat the cake; the kitten gets sad; Leo gets sad, too, and starts to cry; and then, hungry himself, he gets himself some milk and a chicken sandwich. And guess what? Of course, Sugar leaps onto the counter, indulges in milk and chicken, purrs happily, and falls asleep in Leo’s lap. The book’s ending makes it clear that Leo still has a lot to learn about living with a kitten – but at least he has found out about feeding one. And Sugar has stayed adorable throughout.

     The cats in Catmagic go beyond adorable into, well, magical. Holly Webb’s novel, first published last year and now available in paperback, is actually about lots of magical animals, starting with a dog that warns Lottie which way to go while the girl is being chased by some other girls who are just bored enough to be nasty. Lottie is spending the summer with Uncle Jack and cousin Danny, because Lottie’s mother has to go to Paris on a job assignment. Jack runs Grace’s Pet Shop, which is filled with all sorts of animals – including a passel of kittens. And everything in the shop, it turns out, is magical…for those who are sensitive to the magic. Lottie, it turns out, certainly is, and this proves quite a relief to Jack and Danny, who are pleased to have someone with whom to share the secret that all the shop’s animals can – talk. And plot and plan and make well-controlled mischief, too. Besides, as Uncle Jack explains, “There isn’t really a line between people who have magic and people who don’t. Sometimes you just need to look deep down.” And Lottie does just that, finding unexpected depths in herself – and in a stray kitten she rescues from the same girl bullies who had come after her. Enter a witch named Ariadne, looking for a new familiar so her old one can retire, and strange things are bound to happen – and so they do, things both strange and wonderful. Animal lovers will especially enjoy this book, which often manages to be funny and heartwarming at the same time – and which has already spawned a sequel, not surprisingly called Dogmagic.

     The magic is altogether sillier in Scott Morse’s series of sort-of-graphic-novels about Magic Pickle and his sidekick, Jo Jo Wigman. The pugnacious pickle, also known as Weapon Kosher, fights members of the Brotherhood of Evil Produce through his spectacular powers and unending groaners of puns. Morse’s newest pickle book, Magic Pickle and the Garden of Evil, gets a (+++) rating as a formulaic bit of fun. It reintroduces such characters as Squish Squash, Chili Chili Bang Bang and – in particular – the Romaine Gladiator, a previously vanquished lettuce-head who reemerges thanks to some super-grow food that Jo Jo wins from the Magic Pickle by beating him at checkers (hey, this doesn’t have to make sense). The evil lettuce and the Phantom Carrot, who has escaped from Magic Pickle’s prison in Capital Dill, make all sorts of trouble with a fused-prong fork that brings a bit of monstrous greenery to life, until – well, let’s just say the solution to this problem is very, very bunny. Funny. Whatever. Magic Pickle’s antics come through nicely in Morse’s books, which are part narrative with pictures and part comic strip (or graphic novel, if you prefer). And Morse does great sound effects: not many authors would dare to come up with “SHA – ZORRRKKK!!” Nor should they. But here, it works, because the whole premise is just prickly…err, pickly enough.

(+++) LEGENDS OF YORE AND OF TODAY

The Beautiful Stories of Life: Six Greek Myths, Retold. By Cynthia Rylant. Illustrations by Carson Ellis. Harcourt. $16.

Enemies & Allies: The Dark Knight Meets the Man of Steel. By Kevin J. Anderson. William Morrow. $26.99.

     Some tales stand the test of time – thousands of years. Other stand the test of time – dozens of years. It seems that in both cases, some sort of retelling and recasting is considered necessary in order to keep the stories relevant and interesting, as both these books try to do. Cynthia Rylant’s approach to the legends of Pandora, Persephone, Orpheus, Pygmalion, Narcissus and Psyche is an odd one: she starts (not ends) each tale with a moral or a summing-up of its message. “Pygmalion was a coward. …Perhaps it was not love that Pygmalion wanted so much as notice.” “There are those who fall in love with someone and something and are destroyed by the experience. …So it was with Narcissus.” “While heroism always involves the fight for something, the battle can take place within oneself as commonly as it can without” – this for the story of Psyche. The angles that Rylant takes on these tales sometimes help readers, including ones who already know the Greek myths, see the stories in a new light; but they equally often wrench the characters and actions in directions that do not quite fit. The story of Orpheus shows this most clearly. It has long been a tale of great love and great loss, and of music so beautiful that even the netherworld is moved by it. Not here: “There are some who cannot face reality,” Rylant writes at the start. “Orpheus was one of these, and the inability to accept and live the truth eventually destroyed his life.” Eurydice is not even named in Rylant’s retelling, and Orpheus’ fateful decision to turn around and look at his wife walking behind him from Hades is not the mistake of a lover but just a mistake: “She was still just within the doorway of darkness.” This is an oddly unpleasant version of the Orpheus tale; and although the other stories here are better handled, they too are somewhat strangely skewed. Psyche’s story is essentially a catfight between the mortal girl and the goddess Aphrodite. In Pandora’s tale, Hope does not remain within the famous box – it escapes with everything else, until Pandora puts it back inside; and Zeus comes across as wanting to destroy humanity – “”Hope would not survive in a world so filled with suffering,” Rylant says the wise god unwisely believed, “and he knew mankind could not survive without hope.” Rylant has certainly thought the Greek myths through, but her interpretations of them are somewhat on the odd side. And her words often stand in stark contrast to the very lovely, flowing illustrations of Carson Ellis, who apparently sees more gentleness and warmth in these tales than Rylant does.

     Fast-forward a couple of thousand years, to the legends of our own time, and you will find the comic-book characters Superman and Batman, who have long since outgrown their pulp origins to become stars of stage, screen and story – including Enemies & Allies, in which they co-star. Forget what you know about the characters from the comics – or the movies, for that matter. Kevin J. Anderson reimagines them here as Cold War crusaders in the 1950s. This is a time of fear of both nuclear weapons and aliens – and Superman is, of course, one of the latter. There is some cleverness to the setup and to the contrast between the brightly costumed hero of Metropolis and the darker denizen of Gotham City. Bruce Wayne’s attempts to analyze how Superman could possibly do the things he does are a high spot in the book – Wayne, remember, is an ordinary (if rich) human, relying on his wits and analytical abilities to fight crime, while Superman has all those otherworldly powers. Enemies & Allies is silly fun, with Superman trying to cope with his role as Earth’s protector and Batman copying his playboy image from Ian Fleming’s early James Bond books. Lex Luthor, Superman’s longtime arch-nemesis, is the primary bad guy here, conspiring with one of those dastardly Commies (Soviet general Anatoly Ceridov) to ratchet up international nuclear conflict so the U.S. will have to buy Luthor’s company’s atmospheric defense equipment. Holy Star Wars system, Batman (and Superman)! Sputnik, Area 51 and space scientist Wernher von Braun all figure into Anderson’s plot, which flails around quite a bit while making sure that well-known names from the Superman and Batman comics make appropriate appearances: Lois Lane, Jimmy Olsen and Alfred the butler are all here. The best thing about Enemies & Allies is the ongoing suspicion that its author is not taking the whole thing overly seriously – that just as these comic-book heroes have recently been rethought in darker, more introspective ways, Anderson is now rethinking those new versions of Superman and Batman in a more straightforward, action-oriented manner. “President Eisenhower had entrusted him with the protection of America, and Kal-El took his job seriously. He needed to do more. Clark Kent asked for a few days off from the Daily Planet, ostensibly to visit his mother in Kansas. But he had other plans.” How can you not enjoy such superficiality, such childish naïveté? About the only thing missing from this comic-book view of the 1950s is…well, the illustrations of a comic book.

(+++) BOOKS BEFITTING A BETTER LIFE

Getting Past Your Breakup: How to Turn a Devastating Loss into the Best Thing That Ever Happened to You. By Susan J. Elliott. Da Capo. $14.95.

Gluten Free Every Day Cookbook: More Than 100 Easy and Delicious Recipes from the Gluten-Free Chef. By Robert M. Landolphi. Andrews McMeel. $16.99.

     The notion that you can spend less than $20 to solve major problems in your life and guarantee future happiness is absurd on the face of it, but that does not keep authors from trying to produce reasonably priced self-help books designed to be far more valuable than their price would indicate. Motivational speaker and grief counselor Susan J. Elliott combines both those roles in telling people who have suffered relationship devastation how to get through the stages of grief associated with romantic implosion – and how to pick themselves up afterwards and come out of their distress better than they ever were before. Like many self-proclaimed experts, Elliott has a harrowing tale of her own to tell, and she tells it early in the book, explaining how her own marriage shattered and how her fear of abandonment led her to try to put back together something that was irretrievably broken. She deserves considerable credit for getting her own life together – but that does not necessarily mean that her experience parallels that of others, or that her advice (given, of course, from her particular perspective) will work in very different situations. Elliott had children and suffered emotional (but not physical) abuse; readers should consider ways in which their situations are similar to and different from hers before accepting her advice at face value. Actually, Elliott’s comments on the stages of grief, although scarcely new, can be helpful to just about anyone who feels devastated by the end of an intimate relationship. She takes readers from “shock and disbelief,” through “review [and] relinquishment,” to “reorganization [and] acceptance,” dealing with such specific emotions as guilt, anger, ambivalence and depression. But Elliott’s main focus is rebuilding after a failed relationship, and this is where her approaches are a bit too one-size-fits-all. Journaling can be helpful, but not for everyone – some people struggle to write down their feelings. Some people believe affirmations help mold reality; others find them a silly sort of wishful thinking. Writing gratitude lists – pages about positive things in one’s life – can be liberating, thought-provoking or immensely frustrating. And so on – even therapy and support groups have their place for some people, but not others. And some of Elliott’s well-intentioned ideas, such as a “relationship inventory” to work through the issues involving your ex, will work well for organized, self-aware people but be overwhelming and even potentially traumatizing for others. The point is that Elliott has many good ideas that may be helpful for people whose approach to life gibes with hers. Ultimately, though, people have to find their own way out of a relationship, just as they found their own way into it. The extent to which Getting Past Your Breakup will help with your breakup will vary quite widely.

     Robert M. Landolphi’s Gluten Free Every Day Cookbook does not attempt to be for everyone – its target audience, obviously, is people with gluten allergies and those who live with (and cook with or for) them. A great deal of attention is now being paid to gluten-free living – whether because the incidence of gluten allergies is increasing, because they are only now being more frequently recognized, or because the whole subject is faddish in some way, it is difficult to know for sure. Like Elliott in the relationship area, Landolphi has a personal connection to his subject: his wife was diagnosed with celiac disease (one of a number of wheat allergies) more than a decade ago, so he started experimenting with ways to make tasty gluten-free dishes. Landolphi arranges his book intelligently, starting with basics (flours, starches and such) and then moving into soups, main courses, side dishes, desserts and breads – offering, at the end, his perspective on the complexities of dining out (“nobody checked to see whether the chicken stock that rice was boiled in does or does not contain gluten”). The heart of this book is, of course, its recipes, and it helps to be a devoted chef to follow a number of them: despite the book’s subtitle, many are more delicious than they are easy. Cayenne-Dusted Chicken Nuggets, for example, require a food processor and overnight refrigeration after the first step. Corn, Potato, and Leek Chowder needs a heavy soup pot and includes cooking bacon, sautéing vegetables, simmering several ingredients and using a blender to purée three cups of the soup. Chocolate Cream Pie requires sugar, cornstarch and egg yolks whisked gradually together over medium heat in a heavy saucepan, then whisked constantly until the mixture boils, and also requires cooling at room temperature for 20 minutes plus refrigeration for one to two hours. None of these recipes will be daunting for somewhat experienced cooks who have plenty of time to spend in the kitchen, and Landolphi’s meals without gluten certainly have a great deal of variety and a number of pleasant flavor variations. People with gluten sensitivity will not feel they are sacrificing food quality or taste with these recipes. But if you are not an experienced chef and do not live with one, Landolphi’s book is more likely to be frustrating than helpful – there is little in it that can be easily thrown together in a minimal amount of time. Opt for Gluten Free Every Day Cookbook only if you really do have plenty of time for cooking every day, and if you truly enjoy putting together satisfying meals that require attentiveness to details of preparation and presentation.

(++++) SYMPHONIES, GROUPED AND INDIVIDUAL

Schumann: Symphonies 1-4. Deutsche Radio Philharmonie Saarbrücken Kaiserslautern conducted by Stanislaw Skrowaczewski. Oehms. $29.99 (2 CDs).

Schubert: Symphonies Nos. 1, 3 and 7 (“Unfinished”); Symphonies Nos. 2 and 4 (“Tragic”); Symphonies Nos. 5 and 6 (“Little C Major”). Bamberger Symphoniker conducted by Jonathan Nott. Tudor. $19.99 each (SACD).

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 4; Overture 1812. Radio Philharmonie Saarbrücken Kaiserslautern conducted by Christoph Poppen. Oehms. $16.99.

Szymanowski: Symphonies Nos. 1 and 4; Concert Overture, Op. 12; Study in B flat minor, Op. 4, No. 3. Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Antoni Wit. Naxos. $8.99.

     Two splendid new collections of Romantic symphonies, one complete and one nearly so, show that even well-known works can prove unusually effective and affecting when handled sensitively by top-notch conductors. Stanislaw Skrowaczewski, an excellent but somewhat underrated conductor, brings poise, sensitivity and an attractive muscularity to his cycle of the Schumann symphonies. Skrowaczewski seems genuinely to like this music, which can at times be as awkward as the name of the orchestra he conducts (the Deutsche Radio Philharmonie Saarbrücken Kaiserslautern was formed in 2007 by combining the RSO Saarbrücken with the SWR Radio Orchestra Kaiserslautern). Skrowaczewski embraces Schumann’s symphonies wholeheartedly, giving most outer movements a lightness and flair that other conductors do not always provide; following tempo indications closely when that produces a better effect (the Allegro molto vivace of the first movement of No. 1 is really speedy, and very well done); and altering the tempo markings somewhat if that helps move the music along (the main portion of the first movement of No. 2 is marked Allegro ma non troppo, but it really drags at that pace, and Skrowaczewski wisely takes it faster). Not all listeners will agree with Skrowaczewski’s tempo choices – the finale of No. 1, for example, is marked Allegro animato e grazioso, and this performance emphasizes the “animato” at the expense of some of the “grazioso” – but everything here is well considered and, on its own terms, makes perfect sense. No. 1 is, after all, subtitled “Spring,” and it certainly does burst forth riotously (although its slow movement is taken at a true Larghetto pace – slower than in many other performances). No. 2 is classically proportioned, and Skrowaczewski brings out its structural lines effectively. No. 3, the “Rhenish,” is a little on the heavy side until its particularly sprightly finale, but the performance is well balanced and paced even if not quite as stately as it might be. And No. 4, heard (as it almost always is) in its revised version, manages not to sound muddy – as it frequently does – because Skrowaczewski brings out individual voices (especially brass) so carefully and lets Schumann’s melodic charm as well as the unusual aspects of this symphony’s structure come through clearly. As a whole, the cycle is both atypical of the way Schumann’s symphonies tend to be played – and excellent on its own terms.

     Three new SACDs from Jonathan Nott and his Bamberger Symphoniker – Nott has led the orchestra since 2000 – add up almost but not quite to a complete Schubert cycle. This release uses the less-common numbering of the symphonies – the “Unfinished” is usually designated No. 8 – and a recording of No. 9, the “Great C Major,” is not yet available. One hopes that it will be soon, because Nott and the Bamberg players have a wonderful feel for this music, which consists almost entirely of juvenilia (only No. 6 and the “Unfinished” were written after Schubert’s teenage years, No. 6 when he was 21 and the “Unfinished” four years later). Schubert’s handling of winds is especially felicitous in the early symphonies, and Nott focuses on the wind section in a refreshingly open and pleasant manner. But he pays considerable attention to the strings as well, and the symphonies come across with commendable lightness and excellent interplay among the instruments – aided by truly exceptional SACD sound. It is certainly possible to quarrel with some aspects of Nott’s interpretations: the finales of Nos. 5 and 6, for example, are taken quite slowly, and that of No. 6 is filled with unwarranted tempo variations. Still, everything here is played with great finesse and lovely instrumental balance. And among these performances, which date to 2003, is one very unusual element: inclusion of the 20 or so seconds of a Scherzo that Schubert completed and orchestrated for the “Unfinished.” This is barely a hint of where the composer was trying to go, and in fact there exists more of this movement, unorchestrated by Schubert but largely laid out by him – and completed by others in recent times. Still, this slight addition to the “Unfinished” shows the work in a different light from the one most people know, and makes Nott’s performance (which gives very considerable weight to the complex first movement) even more interesting. Indeed, all these readings will hold a listener’s interest from start to finish, with most of the symphonies’ mostly high spirits coming through particularly clearly.

     Returning to the Deutsche Radio Philharmonie Saarbrücken Kaiserslautern: the orchestra’s principal conductor since it was formed has been Christoph Poppen, and his way with Tchaikovsky comes through clearly in two live performances of the Fourth Symphony (recorded in 2007) and the Overture 1812 (from 2008). This is certainly a respectable CD, worthy of a (+++) rating, but it is not an exceptional one. There is nothing at all wrong with either performance – in fact, Poppen’s handling of the string sections of Overture 1812 is unusually sensitive for this potboiler of a piece. But there is nothing especially revelatory in the interpretation of either work. The Overture 1812 is as exhilarating as ever, and the dramatic and dynamic contrasts of the symphony are very well handled: this is a really fine orchestra, with exceptional balance among sections. And Poppen manages to keep the symphony’s huge, discursive first movement from becoming episodic and spinning out of control. But there is nothing especially new or unusual in the interpretation of either work here – the CD is always pleasant, generally impressive in terms of the playing, but not truly distinctive.

     Listeners looking for distinctiveness in symphonies may want to turn to those of Karol Szymanowski, including the two performed by the Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra under Antoni Wit on a new Naxos CD. However, Szymanowski’s music will certainly not appeal to everyone, and the particular combination of music on this CD gets a (+++) rating. The Concert Overture (1905), which clearly displays the influence of Wagner and Richard Strauss on the young composer, is a somewhat more interesting work than the similarly influenced Symphony No. 1 (1907), which Szymanowski later dubbed a “monster.” That is an overstatement – the work is not especially long (19 minutes; the Concert Overture runs 14) or especially monstrous in structure or harmony – but neither is it a very individualized piece; there is nothing especially compelling about it. Symphony No. 4, “Symphonie Concertante” (1932), is considerably more interesting, including a prominent piano part (well played here by Jan Krzystof Broja) and combining elements of symphonic structure with ones of a concerto. One thing that both these symphonies have in common is the use of solo violin and solo viola (Ewa Marczyk and Marek Marczyk, respectively). Another is the extent to which they seem to echo other composers: No. 4 has some of the flavor of Stravinsky. The CD concludes with one of Szymanowski’s most popular works, a piano study heard here in an orchestration by Grzegorz Fitelberg. The CD as a whole shows some new directions for the symphony in the 20^th century, but of the works here, only the Symphony No. 4 really showcases Szymanowski at his best.

(+++) COMBINATIONS AND JUXTAPOSITIONS

Grieg: Two-Piano Arrangements of Mozart’s Sonata in D Major, K. 448, and Fantasia for Two Pianos, K. 475; Old Norwegian Melody with Variations. Dena Piano Duo (Tina Margareta Nilssen and Heide Görtz). 2L. $29.99 (Blu-ray audio disc + SACD).

The Nordic Sound: Selections from 15 Recordings. 2L. $29.99 (Blu-ray audio disc + SACD).

Jewish Cabaret in Exile. New Budapest Orpheum conducted by Phillip V. Bohlman. Cedille. $16.99.

American Choral Premieres: Alan Hovhaness, Egon Cohen, Paul Nicholson, Paul French, Easley Blackwood, Robert Kreutz, William Ferris, William C. White, George Rochberg. William Ferris Chorale conducted by Paul French. Cedille. $16.99.

Weber: Concertino for Clarinet and Orchestra; Clarinet Concerto No. 2; Bottesini: Duetto; Debussy: Première Rhapsody; Tchaikovsky: Herbstlied. Richard Stoltzman, clarinet; Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Kirk Trevor; Richard Fredrickson, double bass. Navona. $16.99.

Jonathan Sachs: Incantations, Book V; Litanies; Ghost Horses; 5^th (S)eason; Sagittarius Rising; Sirian Blue. Navona. $16.99.

Xibus. Boston String Quartet. Navona. $16.99.

     The nearly complete demise of record stores, and with it the difficulty of idly browsing and perhaps stumbling across an unusual recording that you had not previously considered buying, puts releases like these at a distinct disadvantage. Unless you know to look for them, you are unlikely to find them, because their attraction lies as much in their packaging or the unusual way they assemble collections of works as it does in the performers and performances. The Norwegian label 2L, for example, offers very unusual packages (in a size that will not fit in all CD storage devices) that is designed specifically for Blu-ray aficionados. The Blu-ray format has not yet taken off in the video arena, even though it has defeated the alternative high-definition format, HD-DVD. But 2L believes Blu-ray’s time has come in the audio field, and each 2L package contains a super-high-quality Blu-ray audio disc plus an SACD of the same music that is, in truth, of equal quality when played on anything but the most ultra-high-fidelity Blu-ray-adapted system. Only if you have a strong commitment to Blu-ray and are willing to pay about $10 more than the typical cost of an SACD will you find 2L’s offerings of interest. And if you are intrigued, you must still consider the repertoire. The Dena Piano Duo plays exceptionally well, but how much interest is there likely to be in Edvard Grieg’s arrangements of two Mozart works for two pianos, K. 448 in D and K. 475 in C minor? The works are small gems in themselves, and Grieg’s treatment of them is certainly of some interest, but how much? Grieg did write one work of his own for two pianos, Old Norwegian Melody with Variations, and it too is very well played here, but it is unlikely to inspire many people to acquire this pricey offering. Actually, Blu-ray lovers may be more interested in 2L’s The Nordic Sound, one of those “compendium” releases that are by definition hodgepodges. This offering includes excerpts from 15 2L recordings, made at various churches and cathedrals in Norway. The sound is quite lovely throughout, and the performances are uniformly good – but they are not really the point. The idea here is to showcase just how good an audio recording can be in Blu-ray as well as SACD format, and this 2L offering certainly does that. If you want your sound at the service of specific repertoire, look elsewhere; but if you revel in sound for its own sake, the 2L releases are certainly worth a look – and a listen.

     A couple of new vocal offerings from Cedille, a Chicago label showcasing Chicago-based artists, are of high enough quality to be of interest outside Chicagoland. But they are highly specialized recordings, and unless their topics are ones a listener finds appealing or wants to explore, the quality of the performances will be largely irrelevant. Jewish Cabaret in Exile features music of the Jewish diaspora of the early and mid 20^th century, ranging from cabaret songs that reflect on the human condition to songs of the theater and movies. One composer represented here, Viktor Ullmann, was moderately well known in his time; he died in the Holocaust. Ullmann’s Three Yiddish Songs are a highlight of the CD. The rest of the composers here are generally unfamiliar names, but the point is not to focus on the people but to explore ways in which their music expresses such aspects of the diaspora as “the great ennui on the eve of exile,” “transformation of tradition” and “the poetics of exile,” to cite three of the CD’s seven sections.

     The vocal music sung by the William Ferris Chorale (founded by Ferris in 1971) will be equally unfamiliar to listeners, and that is by design, since the group’s new CD is called “American Choral Premieres.” Most of the works here are relatively short and fairly straightforward, appropriately but not outstandingly using the musical language of the time in which they were written. Standouts are Four Motets, by the prolific Alan Hovhaness, and George Rochberg’s heartfelt Behold, My Servant. Ferris’ own Lyrica Sacra and Who Am I? by Paul French – who now leads the chorale and for whom Ferris was a mentor – provide a sense of continuity in the music and performers. Everything here is well sung and has a religious flavor; the overall impression is of devout spiritual appeal without necessarily any strong adherence to a particular set of dogma or traditions.

     One way an interested listener might stumble upon two new Navona CDs is by searching for performances by clarinetist Richard Holtzman. On a disc called “Phoenix in Flight,” he offers sensitive, warm and beautifully played performances of two of the delightful clarinet-and-orchestra pieces by Carl Maria von Weber, plus three “fillers” that have some interest of their own. Giovanni Bottesini was considered “the Paganini of the double bass,” so it is a trifle odd to feature one of his works on a clarinet-focused CD, but in fact Stoltzman and Richard Fredrickson play the Duetto as equal partners, and the music benefits as a result. Debussy’s Première Rhapsody gives Stoltzman plenty of opportunity to show the warm side of his instrument, and so does Tchaikovsky’s Herbstlied, heard here in an arrangement made by Toru Takemitsu shortly before his death in 1996. Clarinet fanciers will enjoy Stoltzman’s top-quality playing both here and on a CD of some lesser music, by Jonathan Sachs. Sachs is known mostly for his film scores (Toy Story 2, Mr. Holland’s Opus, The X-Files: I Want to Believe and others), but he also works in traditional concert-hall forms, and this CD offers a bit of this and a bit of that. Stoltzman is featured in Litanies for clarinet, violin, cello and piano (1990, revised 2004), and in Ghost Horses for the same instruments plus three voices (1992). The Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra under Carl St. Clair plays Incantations: Book V (2002), and the Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra under Kirk Trevor offers Sagittarius Rising (2004). The other two pieces here are the oddly titled 5^th (S)eason for two pianos (1993), played by Vicky Ray and Bridget Convey, and one of Sachs’ electronic experiments: Sirian Blue for tape (1978). The diversity of performers parallels the many styles of Sachs’ music, which never attains profundity (and does not really seem to seek it) but which is invariably well made and generally attractive to the ear.

     The same is a bit harder to say of Xibus, simply because this crossover CD will sound just fine to fans of some genres but is likely to seem odd to other listeners. The Boston String Quartet mixes elements of classically proficient playing with rock, pop and world music here, including some works with vocals (sung by Giorgia Fumanti and Fionnuala Gill) and one, Like It Is, with rock instrumentation performed by Common Thrill. Ranging from the sacred (Ave Maria) to the decidedly secular (Hey Jude), the CD offers fine performances and interesting (if rather disconnected) repertoire. But unless listeners specifically go looking for something by the Boston String Quartet, and then focus on crossover offerings, this is the sort of CD that it is all too easy to pass by.