(++++) KLUTZ YOURSELF IN CHARGE

Rule the World: 119 Shortcuts to Total World Domination. By the Editors of Klutz. Klutz. $16.99.

Me vs. You: Head-to-Head Brain Races. By Michael Sherman. Klutz. $10.99.

     Apparently Klutz is not satisfied to dominate the “books-plus” field of crafts projects, in which all needed materials are packaged along with instructions. Now it is creating a new area of domination – the “dominating others” field – and is determined to dominate it as well, thus achieving a sort of meta-domination. The question is whether you would want to live in a world dominated by Klutzniks; the answer may be that you already do. The solution (assuming this is a problem) may be that if you can’t beat them (or it), join them (or it.) And that is the invitation kindly extended by the Klutz galactic empire in Rule the World. This is not a traditional crafts book by any means, although it certainly contains a few crafts projects: the Oath of Righteousness to be signed, a series of Flash IDs to be created (“Drive Anything License,” “Ultra Gold-Plated Platinum-Embossed Double Diamond Club Member,” and so on), facial hair to be cut out and applied appropriately, cut-out eyeglasses to make you look intelligent, even a random-facial-expression generator that helps you figure out how to look not only on a given day but also within specific time periods of that day. But the core of this book is the 119 recommendations that, if put properly into effect, will surely lead to world domination – except perhaps over others who also buy the book and implement its ideas. Let’s not go there, though, at least yet; instead, let’s go to recommendation number 103: “You are a great and terrible ruler, so your pets must be extreme” – photo suggestions include a platypus and a shark with blood dripping from its jaws. Or number 75: “Be blasé. …To get the look, let your eyes glaze over, let your jaw hang open and yawn. Then yawn again…and again.” Number 36, “Tell a near-death survival story,” comes with six helpful openings to match with six possible continuations and six more continuations and six more continuations and, finally, six possible things you could say you learned from the whole experience. One example among 6 x 6 x 6 x 6 x 6 possibilities: “I was returning from the future when the deadly four-beaked squid that lurks [beneath] both land and sea started to bury me alive. I dematerialized in the nick of time. From this I learned [that] you shouldn’t disclose your vacation plans to anyone.” And do not forget number 106, “Sound smart,” which explains how to use “caliginous” when you mean “foggy,” “bruxism” instead of “grinding your teeth,” and “commorancy” instead of “house.” There is so much plainspoken Klutzified advice here that Rule the World really leaves only one question unanswered: once you are totally in charge of, like, everything, what are you going to do next?

     One answer may be that you will fight off the other world dominators (okay, now let’s go there). You can do that with another Klutz offering, Me vs. You. This is a deceptively simple paired set of wire-bound booklets, one on red cardboard backing and one on blue, that are packaged together but break apart along a perforated line when opened. Each booklet comes with a color-coded pencil, and each is filed with a series of challenges. You and your nefarious opponent, who wishes to assume world domination when of course you are the one determined to do so, agree on a challenge (which should be easy, since both of you will believe you are superior and sure to win at anything), then count down together and start at the same time. Whoever finishes first wins that particular event. Among the brain games: make words from letter piles by connecting letters that share a side in the diagram; count the bees swarming around a honey-eating bear; fill in boxes on a grid to reveal a picture; list 12 words starting with the letter M; unscramble the names of six musical instruments, then unscramble letters from those words into a bonus word; find four differences between two nearly identical pictures; draw a line between the setup of a joke and its punch line; and so on. The one thing the Klutzniks appear not to have considered is that these books contain 42 puzzles in all – an even number – so it is possible that you and your evil, depraved, unworthy opponent will go through all of them and end up in a tie. Then you will simply have to settle your world-domination differences (or whatever other differences you may have) by attempting to blow each other up. You know, just as adults do.

(+++) FROM EASY TO LESS-EASY READING

Nosh, Schlep, Schluff: BabYiddish. By Laurel Snyder. Illustrated by Tiphanie Beeke. Random House. $5.99.

Biscuit and the Lost Teddy Bear. By Alyssa Satin Capucilli. Pictures by Pat Schories. Harper. $16.99.

Spider-Man: Spider-Man and the Movie Mystery. By Heather Alexander. Illustrated by Sanford Greene. HarperFestival. $3.99.

This Is the Game. By Diane Z. Shore & Jessica Alexander. Illustrated by Owen Smith. Harper. $16.99.

Just a Little Luck. By Mercer Mayer. HarperFestival. $3.99.

Sid the Science Kid: Earth Day Fun. By Jennifer Frantz. Harper. $3.99.

Rio: Learning to Fly; Blu and Friends. Adapted by Catherine Hapka from a screenplay by Todd R. Jones and Earl Richey Jones. Harper. $3.99 each.

Rio: Birds of a Feather. Adapted by Susan Korman from a screenplay by Todd R. Jones and Earl Richey Jones. HarperFestival. $3.99.

Rio: Greetings from Rio! Adapted by Benjamin Harper from a screenplay by Todd R. Jones and Earl Richey Jones. HarperFestival. $3.99.

Rio: The Movie Storybook. Adapted by Jodi Huelin from a screenplay by Todd R. Jones and Earl Richey Jones. HarperFestival. $8.99.

Rio: The Junior Novel. Adapted by Lexa Hillyer from a screenplay by Todd R. Jones and Earl Richey Jones. HarperFestival. $5.99.

Miss Dorothy and Her Bookmobile. By Gloria Houston. Illustrated by Susan Condie Lamb. Harper. $16.99.

     Do not envy those at publishing houses who must decide on the appropriate age range for a huge variety of books. Children learn to read at so many different ages, and become facile with words at such different times and in such different ways, that the task of deciding on the “right” age range for a particular book can never be more than educated guesswork. Here, starting with the youngest ages and moving up the chronological ladder, are some recent guesses.

     Ages 0-4: Board books are the norm for this age group, sometimes as distillations of longer works for older kids and sometimes as creations specifically for the very youngest children. Nosh, Schlep, Schluff falls into the latter category and – despite the idea that it is for everyone, not just Jewish families, because some Yiddish has made its way into everyday English – the reality is that Jewish parents and children are most likely to enjoy it. There is no “translation” between Yiddish and English – the careful writing of Laurel Snyder and amusing illustrations by Tiphanie Beeke are supposed to be enough to make the words’ meaning clear. They do this well enough, although not perfectly, since some Yiddish words really have penetrated English (klutz, nosh), while others remain more ethnic (bissel, schluff). The book is undeniably cute and undeniably offbeat, as board books go. It may not appeal to all families, but will be lots of fun for those who do take an interest in the subject.

     Ages 3-5. The “I Can Read!” series begins with books labeled “My First,” such as Biscuit and the Lost Teddy Bear. Biscuit, the dog hero of 14 previous books, here finds a lost teddy bear, and he and “his” little girl search for the toy’s home, eventually returning the teddy to a little boy who is crying in his stroller because of his loss. Very simple language, large type and repeated words (including many instances of “woof”) make the book charming, direct and easy to follow.

     Ages 3-7. Superheroes can be useful for getting kids involved in reading: if they already enjoy the characters’ adventures, they are likely to want more of them. Spider-Man and the Movie Mystery is a super-simple story of a special-effects designer who becomes a villain because his work is not appreciated. He kidnaps M.J., the girlfriend of Peter Parker (Spider-Man), so Spidey and the bad guy have to fight it out until Spidey can rescue her. Simply told, the story is puzzlingly illustrated: the characters do not look at all like the ones in Spider-Man comics or films, a fact that may disappoint young children hoping to duplicate their existing experiences with the characters. Parents should thumb through the book with Spidey fans before buying it.

     Ages 3-8. A book of poetry for kids fascinated by the lure and lore of baseball, This Is the Game provides verbal snapshots of the early days of the sport, when it was called “rounders,” then “town ball,” and eventually “base ball” (two words). Various scenes from both amateur and professional play are accompanied by straightforward rhymes: “These are the All-Stars, the best of the best –/ the players are lined up and put to the test,/ as legends are made in the afternoon sun/ with the Hall of Fame saving a place for each one.” The pictures here are a big attraction, portraying players and fans alike in close-ups that emphasize facial features and the expressions of those who work at or simply enjoy the game.

     Ages 4-7. Mercer Mayer’s Little Critter stories are a perennial favorite for this narrow age group. In Just a Little Luck, Little Critter finds a penny, which his friends say may be good or bad luck – and after first seeming good, his luck soon turns bad, so he throws the penny away. But he has bad luck anyway, for several days, until he goes to the State Fair with Grandpa and has a wonderful time – realizing that his luck is good after all. A thin story filled with typical scenes that this age group will recognize (dropping an ice-cream cone, getting sick on the day of a special class party) is complemented by Mayer’s immediately recognizable drawing style, to which fans of Little Critter will gravitate immediately.

     Ages 4-8. Another book in the “I Can Read!” series, Earth Day Fun features Sid the Science Kid, whose TV show is popular with this age group. This is a Level 1 book, identified as having “simple sentences for eager new readers.” The story involves Sid’s plan to plant a tree with his father for Earth Day – which gets Sid curious about just what dirt is. He asks his classmates, who talk about worms and rocks and “stuff…that is good for plants and trees.” The book includes simple suggestions for being environmentally responsible, such as recycling plastic and walking more places instead of using a car. The lesson, not the story, is the main point here, but kids who know the TV show will already be aware of that, and should enjoy teaching things to themselves.

     Ages 3-7 and 4-8: Still other “I Can Read!” books are designated Level 2 (“high-interest stories for developing readers”) but are still officially intended for ages 4-8. The reason is the great divergence of reading ability among kids in this age range. The books in this series may use familiar characters from TV or films, or introduce children to ones from new movies, as is the case with two based on the soon-to-be-released film Rio, which is about a rare macaw that cannot fly – and needs to learn how in order to escape from dastardly smugglers and find where he really belongs (which turns out to be in Rio de Janeiro). Amply illustrated with scenes from the film, both books draw on the movie’s basic story line, although in different ways: Learning to Fly clearly introduces the characters but does not come to a buttoned-up conclusion, while Blu and Friends starts right in with the story and moves along to the film’s expected happy ending. There are also books based on this movie for ages 3-7, and they are of two different types. The two HarperFestival volumes – Rio: Birds of a Feather and Rio: Greetings from Rio! – are packed with stills from the film and include just enough text to knit the pictures together. Their orientation is even more strongly visual than is that of the “I Can Read!” books. But Rio: The Movie Storybook is something different: a hardcover souvenir-style book that, although amply illustrated with movie scenes, is also filled with enough text to tell the entire story of the film. The words here are not significantly more difficult than those in the four softcover volumes, so the overall age range seems appropriate for all five of these movie tie-ins. In fact, although these are strictly books for kids who find they like the movie and want to re-live its story at home, the books can be a useful aid in reading improvement for children who find the film endlessly fascinating. There is also a full-fledged, 136-page Junior Novel presentation of the film available, with eight color pages of movie stills in the middle – the whole thing supposedly intended for ages 8-12. That is a stretch: the film is unlikely to be highly appealing to most preteens. And the Movie Storybook does a better job than the Junior Novel of telling what happens in the film in a way calculated to appeal to the movie’s most likely audience. The Junior Novel, in fact, represents a step backwards from publishers’ usual approach to books whose target age range reaches to first grade and beyond.

     Ages 6-9. The general assumption of publishers is that by age six – usually the age at which kids are in first grade – children are ready for more-complex stories. Miss Dorothy and Her Bookmobile is light-years beyond the other books here in topic, approach, story depth and illustration quality. This (++++) book is based on the true story of Dorothy Thomas, who operated a green van that brought books to rural residents during Gloria Houston’s childhood – Houston herself being one of those who benefited. The book is Houston’s tribute to the woman she calls Miss Dorothy, whose burial place is unknown, so there is “no stone with her name on it… Her memorial is the love of books she engendered in the lives of her patrons, young and old.” Houston’s book shows how Miss Dorothy did that: despite her dreams of becoming a librarian in a fine brick building in her Massachusetts hometown, Miss Dorothy ended up in North Carolina after marrying a man who wanted to move to a farm there. Unable to become a “real” librarian, she travels around in a green bookmobile lending books donated by townspeople – never attaining her original goal, but becoming a beloved figure in rural North Carolina, and strongly influencing the lives of many of the people there. A small story about an ordinary life that proved extraordinarily important to the lives of others, the book is lovingly illustrated by Susan Condie Lamb, whose pictures artfully show both the beauty and the remoteness of the areas Miss Dorothy served with her books. It is a fitting memorial to Dorothy Thomas, a celebration of the joys of reading, and a wonderful transitional work for kids ready to move beyond simple fare into books with considerably greater depth.

(++++) A CHRONOLOGY OF SYMPHONIES

Johann Christoph Friedrich Bach: Symphonies Nos. 6, 10 and 20. Leipziger Kammerorchester conducted by Morten Schuldt-Jensen. Naxos. $8.99.

Bruckner: Symphony No. 8. Staatskapelle Dresden conducted by Christian Thielemann. Profil. $33.99 (2 CDs).

Mahler: Symphony No. 6. Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Jukka-Pekka Saraste. Simax Classics. $18.99.

Sibelius: Symphonies Nos. 4 and 5. New Zealand Symphony Orchestra conducted by Pietari Inkinen. Naxos. $8.99.

     From Haydn’s time to ours, it has largely been the metamorphosis of the symphony that has defined the changes in classical music for the vast majority of listeners. Although other forms have been more important in particular eras – opera, for example – the symphony has retained an enduring fascination for most composers, and most audiences, ever since Haydn established it in the Classical-era form from which all later ones developed. The symphonies of Johann Christoph Friedrich Bach (1732-1795) stand firmly in Haydn’s era – he and Haydn were born in the same year. J.C.F. Bach is less known as a composer than Bach’s other musical sons, Carl Philipp Emanuel and Johann Christian, and may be better known to historians for his place in the Bach musical dynasty: J.C.F.’s only son, Wilhelm Friedrich Ernst (1759-1845), was the last musical Bach. J.C.F. himself was known as the Bückeburg Bach, after the court where he lived and did most of his work. He wrote 20 symphonies – a number of them lost – in two groups of 10, at different times of his life. Nos. 6 and 10, from the first set, are straightforward three-movement works, written in the early 1770s, that are quite well made but show no sign of the sort of experimentation and expansion of the form in which Haydn was involved at this time, much less any Sturm und Drang – they are thoroughly good-natured. No. 20, the sole surviving example from the second set, is a more substantial four-movement work with a well-made Largo introduction to the first movement and a more-extensive orchestration than is heard in the two earlier pieces. Written in the early 1790s, it incorporates some innovations made by both Haydn and Mozart (both of whose works were known at Bückeburg), such as increased prominence for the winds; but it has none of the grandeur of later Haydn symphonies and none of the emotionality of Mozart’s. Cheerful and pleasant, and very well played by the Leipziger Kammerorchester under Morten Schuldt-Jensen, it remains a work of minor significance by a composer who is less distinguished than others of his family.

     The symphony had progressed dramatically by the late 19^th century, led by Beethoven’s and continuing through those of Schubert, Mendelssohn, Schumann and Brahms. But it was in the works of Bruckner that the symphony became a cathedral-like structure of enormous scale and scope. Deeply pervaded by religious feeling, Bruckner’s last completed symphony, No. 8, sounds like an 83-minute worship service in the hands of the superb musicians of Staatskapelle Dresden under the baton of Christian Thielemann, who will become the orchestra’s principal conductor next year. Except for one thing, this live performance from September 2009 would be an unequivocal choice as one of the very best Bruckner Eighths available. From the extreme quietude of the opening – reflected in far more despairing mode at the end of the first movement – to the splendor of the finale, this is a beautifully modulated, extremely sensitive and superbly played performance of a symphony whose complexity can easily overwhelm a conductor and cause him to lose his way. Not so Thielemann, who finds the interconnectedness of all the elements here and builds a magnificent structure that pulls so strongly on listener emotions that it is difficult to react at the end with anything but silence, rather than applause – which is exactly how the audience did react in 2009. The whole enterprise is superb, except for Thielemann’s choice of which Eighth to perform. The decision on editions is always a difficult one in Bruckner, who not only revised most of his symphonies numerous times but also suffered at the hands of well-meaning but ill-informed editors who attempted ham-handedly to make the symphonies more palatable to the audiences of the time. In the case of the Eighth, the original version, very rarely heard, dates to 1887; the usual version performed is that of 1890, edited by Leopold Nowak. But Thielemann opts for the 1939 edition of Robert Haas, who used the 1890 version as a jumping-off point but reincorporated into it some elements of the 1887 version. There are certainly arguments for and against both the 1887 and 1890 versions, and reasonable differences of opinion on how well Haas picked and chose elements of the two to make his edition. But what is not arguable is that the Haas edition is the symphony as seen by Haas, not – ever – as seen by Bruckner. As well-meaning as Haas surely was, as skilled as he was at merging two editions of the symphony, it is inarguable that Haas created something that Bruckner never intended, much as Mahler did when he altered the orchestration of Beethoven’s Third and Ninth Symphonies in an attempt to express more accurately what he believed Beethoven intended. Thielemann’s Bruckner Eighth is a wonderful performance of an edition that is at best controversial, at worst an unquestionable distortion of the composer’s musical thoughts.

     Mahler’s symphonies have some “edition” controversies of their own – especially the Sixth. Should the Scherzo be placed second or third? Should the third hammer blow in the finale be retained or dropped? Mahler himself could not make up his mind – nor could he figure out how to make the hammer blows (whether two or three) sound as he wanted them to, “like the stroke of an axe.” Different conductors handle the symphony’s puzzles in different ways. Jukka-Pekka Saraste opts for the Scherzo second and for all three hammer blows – a musically satisfying approach. And Saraste’s handling of this darkest of Mahler’s symphonies is well paced, well thought out and reasonably well played. The Oslo Philharmonic – heard here in a live recording – does not have quite the heft that the music requires, and Saraste is a bit slow on the uptake at the very start of the first movement, which does not stride forth as boldly as it should. The performance is filled with telling attention to detail, though, and improves as it goes on. The slow movement is simply lovely, sounding as gorgeously naïve as does the Adagietto of the Fifth Symphony – with the result that the portentous opening of the finale is all the stronger. And that last movement is highly effective, moving from episode to episode with an unerring sense of style and pacing, so that the final despair is elegantly foreshadowed but no less dark and gripping for all that. Saraste’s view of the symphony is expansive – his reading barely fits on a single CD – but does not drag: it builds, the occasional pullback from tragic force serving only to heighten the drama when it recurs.

     Mahler’s Sixth, published in 1906, stands in stark contrast to Sibelius’ Fourth, which dates to 1911 and was created in part in response to the famous argument between the composers, in which Sibelius asserted a circumscribed role for the symphony while Mahler said it must “contain the world.” Pietari Inkinen has established himself as a first-rate Sibelius conductor, and he has never been better than in the new recording of the Fourth with the New Zealand Symphony. This is Sibelius’ most despairing symphony – as the Sixth is Mahler’s – but while Mahler wallows and emotes, Sibelius offers a dry despair, a chill sense of death and the ending of all. Mahler’s Sixth concludes with a loud explosion and a quiet subsidence; Sibelius’ Fourth, much more remarkably, ends mezzoforte and inconclusively, as questioningly in its own way as Ives’ The Unanswered Question. Inkinen plumbs the depths of this peculiarly deep music – two-thirds of the symphony is written at slow tempos – with great skill and understanding, creating an eventual effect of bleakness that is surely what the composer intended. And then Inkinen turns around and produces a rousing Sibelius Fifth that is as different from the Fourth as it can be. True, it is not “right around” in terms of recording date – this Fourth dates to September 2009, the Fifth to October 2008 – but then, the sequential numbers of the symphonies do not indicate how far apart they themselves are in time: the final version of the Fifth is from 1919, with World War I intervening between it and its predecessor. Nevertheless, the effect of hearing Inkinen’s Sibelius Fourth and Fifth one after the other is quite amazing. The orchestra sounds deeper, fuller, warmer, more thoroughly Romantic in the Fifth, with the brass (especially the horns) playing with strength and great beauty of tone. Inkinen opts for significant contrast between the slower and faster sections of the symphony, and an overview of the work as a broad and expansive one that transcends its actual length (it is shorter and more compact than the Fourth). This is a revelatory performance – not only in terms of its understanding of Sibelius but also in terms of showing just how much the symphony, for all its changes through the centuries, can continue to express when created by composers of very different personalities and with very different communicative agendas.

(++++) MUSICAL ROADS LESS TRAVELED

English Music for Viola: Works by Rebecca Clarke, William Walton, Frank Bridge, Arnold Bax, Arthur Bliss, Ralph Vaughan Williams and Theodore Holland. Matthew Jones, viola; Michael Hampton, piano. Naxos. $8.99.

English Recorder Music from the Stuart Era: Works by George Frideric Handel, Daniel Purcell, Solomon Eccles, Luis Mercy, Jacques/James Paisible, Godfrey Finger, William Topham, Thomas Tollett, Arcangelo Corelli and anonymous. Alison Melville, recorders; Lucas Harris, archlute and baroque guitar; Nadine Mackie Jackson, baroque bassoon; Borys Medicky, harpsichord; Joëlle Morton, bass viol. Pipistrelle. $16.99.

Debussy: Orchestral Works, Volume 5—La boîte à joujoux; Six épigraphes antiques; Estampes No. 1: Pagodes; Estampes No. 2: La soirée dans Grenade; L’isle joyeuse; Le triomphe de Bacchus. Orchestre National de Lyon conducted by Jun Märkl. Naxos. $8.99.

Johann Strauss Sr. Edition, Volume 18. Slovak Sinfonietta Žilina conducted by Ernst Märzendorfer. Marco Polo. $9.99.

Haydn: The Seven Last Words of our Saviour on the Cross. Lisa Milne, soprano; Ruxandra Donose, mezzo-soprano; Andrew Kennedy, tenor; Christopher Maltman, baritone; London Philharmonic Orchestra and Choir conducted by Vladimir Jurowski. LPO. $16.99.

     Music need not be particularly significant – indeed, need not be noteworthy at all – in order to provide considerable listening pleasure. Sometimes it is fun to hear composers’ lesser works, or the works of lesser composers, simply for the enjoyment of the performances and the chance to have an aural experience outside the norm. The works may not be ones to which a listener will often return, but they can certainly be worth hearing once in a while. For example, new CDs of English viola music (of the 20^th century) and English recorder music (of the 17^th and 18^th centuries) contain at most a few works that could be called important. The viola became a far more popular solo instrument in the 20^th century than it had been before – in large part because of English violist Lionel Tertis (1876-1975), who was involved to a greater or lesser degree with many of the century’s major composers and compositions. The Sonata for Viola and Piano by Rebecca Clarke (1886-1979) is one of only two major works she ever composed (the other was a piano trio), and shows a fine understanding of the viola’s tonal capabilities – although, stylistically, the piece never quite settles down. The Suite for Viola and Piano by Theodore Holland (1878-1947) is also a substantial and very well-crafted work by a composer whose considerable output is little known – he is remembered primarily as a teacher. This is the work’s first recording. Arnold Bax’s Legend for Viola and Piano and Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Romance for Viola and Piano, both short works, are associated with Tertis – Bax’s piece for sure, Vaughan Williams’ in all probability. The Bax work moves through many moods, while Vaughan Williams’ sustains a single one. Also on this CD are three transcriptions: William Walton’s Two Pieces for Violin and Piano, transcribed by Matthew Jones; Frank Bridge’s Four Pieces, transcribed by Veronica Leigh Jacobs; and Arthur Bliss’ Intermezzo, transcribed by Watson Forbes. Although not intended for the viola, all sound quite good in its rich tone, with Walton’s pieces having an especially pleasing lilt. The performance by Matthew Jones and Michael Hampton is quite fine: they accept the generally modest scale of these works and play them pleasantly and with the right degree of intensity.

     The performances of English recorder music on original instruments are also quite good, although there is little that is distinctive about most of the music. The longest work on this CD, which is entitled “The Business of Angels,” is Corelli’s “Folia” sonata (Op. 5, No. XII), and it is also the most substantial of the pieces; most of what remains is very short indeed (the CD has 31 tracks and lasts only 58 minutes). Handel’s Rinaldo overture has a particularly pleasant sound to it, and the very brief Solo 2 by Daniel Purcell (Henry’s younger brother) has some interesting moments in its five very short movements. But there is not much to distinguish Godfrey Finger’s Sonata IV, Op. 3 from William Topham’s Sonata II, Op. 2 or Jacques/James Paisable’s Sonata VI. Still, these and the various airs and other short works on the CD – some by named composers, others anonymous – all have a lovely sound, and the disc is one that listeners will find pleasurable, if musically inconsequential.

     The fifth volume of Debussy’s orchestral music by Orchestre National de Lyon under Jun Märkl is also comparatively inconsequential – certainly less substantial than the first four. It contains very well-done performances of very minor music, all of which was either left incomplete at Debussy’s death or orchestrated by others. The most substantial and interesting piece on the CD is La boîte à joujoux (“The Toy Box”), a seven-movement children’s ballet orchestrated in part by Debussy himself and in part by André Caplet. First performed after the composer’s death, it contains a series of miniatures in the mode of the Children’s Corner suite. Also here are Ernest Ansermet’s orchestration of Six épigraphes antiques, another set of miniatures, this time offering impressions of scenes from the ancient world – as does Le triomphe de Bacchus, orchestrated and arranged by Marius-François Gaillard. Additional impressionistic tone painting is contained in the two Estampes, the first orchestrated by Caplet and the second by Paul-Henri Büsser; and in L’isle joyeuse, orchestrated by Bernardino Molinari. This is a CD for seekers of completeness rather than a disc that most listeners will want for its own sake – there are interesting moments aplenty, but the recording as a whole is a hodgepodge of material, none of it especially compelling in itself. Still, it is quite worthwhile to have these pieces available as part of Naxos’ Debussy series.

     Marco Polo’s series of music by Johann Strauss Sr. is far more extended than the Debussy sequence, having now reached its 18^th volume. Pretty much everything by Strauss Sr. is rarely heard, except for his ultra-famous Radetzky March and the occasional shorter dance that may be performed here and there. For that very reason, the extent of this composer’s production is a source of continued amazement. The uniformity of the excellence of his dance music fully explains his tremendous popularity in Vienna and beyond, and if the musical uniformity of many of his works – their tendency to be a bit foursquare – helps explain their being less popular than those by his sons Johann Jr. and Josef, it does not provide a justification for the nearly complete neglect of Johann Sr.’s music. The latest CD includes six waltzes, two quadrilles and a polka, all of them well balanced, tuneful and eminently danceable, and all dating from 1844 and 1845 – Johann Sr. was nothing if not prolific in producing these pieces for specific occasions. On this disc are the waltzes Rosen ohne Dornen (“Roses without Thorns”), Wiener-Früchteln (“Viennese Fruits”), Willkommen-Rufe (“Shouts of Welcome”), Maskenlieder (“Songs of the Maskers”), Eunomien-Tänze (“Eunomia Dances,” named for a daughter of Zeus), and Odeon-Tänze (“Odeon Dances,” named after a new dance hall). The single polka here (Strauss Sr. was not especially fond of this musical form) is called Marianka-Polka, and the CD is filled out with Musen-Quadrille (“Muses Quadrille”) and the awkwardly titled Quadrille über beliebte Motive aus der Oper: Die vier Haimonskinder (“Quadrille on favorite themes from the opera The Four Aymon Sons,” a work by long-forgotten Irish composer Michael William Balfe). Every work here is formally correct, and if none is as distinctive as the best Strauss Sr. dances, that shows only that even the most consistent composer can be a bit profligate in the use of his talents – besides which, by the time these pieces were written, Strauss Sr. was beginning to face some stiff competition as an entertainer from his eldest son, Johann Jr. Yet the music retains tremendous freshness and joy that belies its composer’s personal circumstances – and the lovely, perky performances belie the age of conductor Ernst Märzendorfer, who was 88 when he made this recording and who died just four months afterwards, in September 2009.

     Unlike the works on the other CDs considered here, Haydn’s Seven Last Words is not a byway among the composer’s productions – it is a well-known and important piece. But the way Vladimir Jurowski handles it turns it into something unusual and decidedly off the beaten track. Haydn’s work exists in a variety of forms, including one for string quartet and one for piano. But it originated in 1786 as an orchestral piece – and was recast by the composer as a solo-voice-and-choral work in 1796 (with the help of Gottfried van Swieten, later the librettist for The Creation and The Seasons). What Jurowski does is perform the 1786 and 1796 versions together, juxtaposing the strictly instrumental version (which includes an introduction and final “earthquake” section) with the vocal one. This expands the piece well beyond anything Haydn ever intended – the whole runs more than an hour in this live recording – and it is arguable whether the doubling of the material adds to or subtracts from the effect of Haydn’s music. All the performers do a fine job – soloists, chorus and London Philharmonic Orchestra – although the choral sections sometimes overwhelm the passion and delicacy of Haydn’s heartfelt scoring. It is a fair bet that even those who know Haydn well have not heard Seven Last Words performed this way before. Whether they will want to hear it this way again after an initial sampling will be a matter of taste. The approach is undeniably creative, even if it is not what Haydn intended; but its main attraction seems to be its novelty rather than any inherent musicality in the handling of the material.

(++++) LESSONS LEARNED, GIRLS

Silverlicious. By Victoria Kann. Harper. $17.99.

Pinkalicious en Espaňol. Escrito por Victoria Kann y Elizabeth Kann. Ilustrado por Victoria Kann. Traducido por Adriana Domínguez. Rayo/HarperCollins. $17.99.

Pretty Penny Sets Up Shop. By Devon Kinch. Random House. $16.99.

Jam & Honey. By Melita Morales. Illustrations by Laura J. Bryant. Tricycle Press/Random House. $15.99.

     Girls ages 4-8 will be gently taught and gently amused by new books about crabbiness and money – topics that some parents might argue could be covered in a single book, but here are handled separately. Silverlicious is Victoria Kann’s latest charming adventure of Pinkalicious Pinkerton of Pinktown. But Pinkalicious isn’t very charming in this book. She loses a tooth when she grabs a “chocolicious” cookie from her little brother, Peter, and bites into it – and then she discovers that the cookie tastes awful. Pinkalicious has lost her sweet tooth! Determined to be able to taste sweetness again as soon as possible, she writes a note to Tootheetina, her very own personal tooth fairy – but Tootheetina is busy elsewhere, and sends Cupid in her place to bedeck Pinkalicious’ room with hearts and flowers and red, heart-shaped candies…which “taste like coal,” complains Pinkalicious, stamping her feet in anger even though Peter thinks the candy tastes just fine. For two more nights, Pinkalicious complains and writes notes asking for something really sweet, and for two more nights she gets substitutes rather than Tootheetina. Edgar Easter Bunny shows up one night, and then Elf #351 pays a visit from the North Pole. Kann’s illustrations are hilarious, from the eggs-cellent one of bunnies, Easter eggs and chicks after Edgar visits to the one of candy canes, a Christmas tree, and melting snow after the helpful elf shows up. But it is all wrong, complains Pinkalicious, who makes the sorts of complaint faces that every parent will recognize all too well. Tootheetina does finally show up, leaving behind three silver coins and a note showing Pinkalicious that the sweetness she is missing must come from within, not from what she eats. With that lesson learned, Pinkalicious – and Peter, to whom she has not been very kind – make up and enjoy the silver coins (which are really chocolate) together, and the treat tastes just fine. “From now on I am always going to be as sweet as my sweet tooth,” promises Pinkalicious. Message sent; message received.

     There is less of a message in the original 2006 Pinkalicious, in which the little girl overdoes the pink cupcakes and actually turns pink – and changes colors again and again until she eventually, sensibly, eats green vegetables and counterbalances her pinkness back to a normal flesh color. Hilarious and only mildly preachy, Pinkalicious is now available in a fine Spanish translation by Adriana Domínguez. This is not a Spanish-and-English-side-by-side book but a full Spanish translation from start to finish – with the original illustrations well complemented by the Spanish texts. Young Spanish speakers now have the pleasure of comfortably meeting Pinkalicious in all her flawed but delightful glory – esta traducción es muy delicioso.

     The message in Devon Kinch’s Pretty Penny Sets Up Shop is a basic one about earning money. Huge-headed, big-eyed, six-year-old Penny and her pet pig, Iggy, want to give Penny’s grandmother, whose name is Bunny, a birthday party, but parties cost money – how will they manage it? Well, in real-life capitalism, they would have to come up with goods or services to sell, but here, Penny has “a really, really big idea” of another kind: dig through all the “extra stuff” that Grandma Bunny keeps in the attic, and turn the whole place into “the Small Mall.” Bunny decides that she “would love to get rid of all this stuff,” so Penny “bends and lifts [and] cleans and sorts [and] zips back and forth and up and down” getting the attic ready to become a sales floor. Penny comes up with prices for everything, then opens the Small Mall’s doors, and she and Grandma Bunny help the neighbors find interesting items. Penny makes 10 dollars – and the money, consisting of bills and coins of various denominations, is shown clearly, so young readers can add up the total for themselves. Penny brings all the funds to Grandma Bunny…who insists that Penny keep everything. So Penny uses the money to buy 10 cupcakes ($1 each at a neighborhood bakery), then arranges with neighbors to throw a surprise party for her grandmother. The lesson here is delivered with a bit of a heavy hand, but considering the fact that young children rarely get any lessons in how to make and spend money, that is a minor issue. Knowing, from an early age, how money is made and used, may help kids avoid serious pitfalls in later life, and Pretty Penny Sets Up Shop can serve as a pleasant introduction to the whole subject – to be followed up, one hopes, by serious (although age-appropriate) talks between parents and children about family finances.

     The lesson of Jam & Honey is simpler and, as the title suggests, sweeter – which makes sense in a book aimed at the very youngest readers (ages 3-5). The first half of Melita Morales’ story is simply about a little girl who is picking berries that she and her mother will make into jam – and who is afraid of bees. Suddenly, a bee is right there in front of the girl’s face – but she stands still and the bee flies away. The second half of the tale is exactly the same story – from the bee’s point of view. This is quite clever: Morales imagines the bee thinking of going out to get nectar on its own (as the girl is picking berries on her own), and suddenly coming face to face with a huge, scary human being. Laura J. Bryant cleverly uses illustrations in the second half that show the girl and her mother from the bee’s viewpoint – and while the girl thinks happily of “sweet jam on toast for me to eat,” the bee thinks about “sweet honey to fill our honeycomb.” A pleasant little urban adventure (the story takes place in and near a city park), Jam & Honey provides a message of tolerance, of not being afraid of things that seem strange or that you come upon abruptly, of “live and let live” in a simple, nonthreatening form. The gently told story and amusingly anthropomorphic bee make the book a winner for families with girls who are just learning to read and to explore the big world outdoors.

(++++) SILLINESS, ANIMAL STYLE

If You’re Hoppy. By April Pulley Sayre. Pictures by Jackie Urbanovic. Greenwillow/HarperCollins. $16.99.

Sheep Blast Off! By Nancy Shaw. Illustrated by Margot Apple. Sandpiper. $5.99.

Moby-Duck: The True Story of 28,800 Bath Toys Lost at Sea and of the Beachcombers, Oceanographers, Environmentalists, and Fools, Including the Author, Who Went in Search of Them. By Donovan Hohn. Viking. $27.95.

     For everyone from the youngest children to the most allegedly mature adults, there are silly animal-related stories that can make reading a lot of fun – even when, at least in the case of adult books, there is considerable seriousness underlying the silly stuff. If You’re Hoppy, for ages 2-5, is, however, in the “pure silliness” category, being the latest of innumerable books to take the participatory rhyme, “If you’re happy and you know it,” and play with and illustrate it. Here “if you’re happy” becomes “if you’re hoppy,” and April Pulley Sayre makes sure that kids gets lots of examples of hoppiness and happiness. Yes, you can be a frog “if you’re hoppy and you know it,” but you can also be a bunny, a cricket, a penguin, a grasshopper, a lemur, a mouse or a kangaroo – other things, too. And what if you’re sloppy? Well, you could be a hog – or maybe a raccoon, or a chimp, or even a baboon. Delightful Jackie Urbanovic pictures, replete with exaggerated expressions of enjoyment, disgust or befuddlement, add to the charm of the book, which uses the frog character to knit the different moods together (he hops through nearly all the pages). And author and artist make sure to throw in offbeat animals as well as expected ones – “if you’re flappy” includes not only birds and butterflies but also a pterodactyl. And then there’s the verse about being “slimy and scaly and mean,” which brings out the recurring line, “oh, never mind.” Kids and parents will be hoppy…err, happy from start to finish here.

     The always-in-trouble sheep make for great fun, too. Sheep Blast Off! – a 2008 book now available as a slim paperback – is an almost-in-outer-space adventure that features not only the usual mixed-up sheep but also some six-limbed alien sheeplike characters whose ship the sheep spot and into which they climb out of curiosity (“sheep snoop”). Nancy Shaw and Margot Apple weave their usual silliness spell as the sheep inadvertently make the spaceship take off. But they are being watched by one of the aliens, who was in the “teliot” when the sheep came on board (both “toilet” and “exit” are shown spelled in reverse – a clever illustrative touch). “Sheep stumble. Sheep bumble.” And the ship roars aloft, with the reactions of the sheep to weightlessness and to needing to do some extravehicular activity shown hilariously – as the alien peeks out at everything going on. Finally, as “the rocket lurches, swoops, and rolls,” the alien has had enough, pulling out a handy pocket stunner to put the sheep to sleep and bring them safely home – although they are awakened at the end by the blastoff of the rocket, whose name turns out to be “Alfalfa II” (spelled backwards).

     There is something more serious going on in Moby-Duck, despite the amusing cover showing yellow rubber duckies bobbing on the waves. There really was a loss of 28,800 bath toys when some of the cargo of a freighter fell overboard during a storm in 1992. The story of the toys has been told before, even in books for children, because scientists seized on the accident as an opportunity to study ocean currents by encouraging people worldwide to look for the ducks (and frogs, turtles and other toys) and report where they came ashore and when. From one angle, this turned a mishap into something positive: a chance to learn more about how objects float and flow worldwide. But journalist Donovan Hohn approaches the bath-toy story from a wider perspective. He accepts the interest of scientists and others in the toys, but he wants to know more about the accident itself – and about the toys themselves. At first, Hohn writes, “I just wanted to learn what had really happened, where the toys had drifted and why.” But the story drew him in, he says, and he ended up meeting such characters as “the Ahab of plastic hunters…the heartsick conservationist…the foulmouthed beachcomber…the blind oceanographer.” These and many other characters people Moby-Duck, which becomes an odyssey not only for the bath toys and for Hohn himself but also for anyone interested in just how interconnected our world and its commerce really are. For 400-plus pages and six “chases,” the last of which requires two chapters called “The Last Chase, Part One” and “The Last Chase, Part Two,” Hohn goes on a voyage of discovery, taking readers along as he repeatedly muses on Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick while “Beachcombing the Pacific,” visiting “Resurrection Bay,” experiencing “Foreboding,” going “Into the Convergence Zone” and “Up the Pearl River,” learning of “The Mystery of Ocean Currents,” journeying to “The Realm of Ice,” and spending time in “Resolute…one of the coldest, northernmost settlements in the world, so cold and northern and bereft of edible game animals that the Inuit avoided the place until 1953, when the Canadian government, eager to establish the northern limits of Ottawa’s sovereignty, compelled four Inuit families – twenty-three people, twenty-seven dogs – to move there.” Each subsection of the story, and there are many, advances the tale a little bit more, as Hohn not only learns science but also discovers the intricacies of modern commercial; endeavors, the importance of cheap plastic to the world economy, and the real-life versions of the sort of seafaring stories that Hohn enjoyed when teaching high-school English in a warm, dry, urban classroom. This is emphatically a book for readers who enjoy the journey more than the destination, for it is all journey: Hohn gets to many places, but none of them is really his journey’s end. He tries to make Moby-Duck epic in scope, not always successfully, but anyone willing to ignore the rather forced attempts to turn the quest for bath toys into an analog of that for the White Whale will find in Hohn’s book a fascinating trip not only through physical and commercial space but also through the minds of the explorers and scientists (and what are scientists if not explorers?) for whom the ocean and its relationship to humanity remain sources of endless fascination.

(+++) BITS OF EVERYDAY LIFE

Potty Training Girls the Easy Way: A Stress-Free Guide to Helping Your Daughter Learn Quickly. By Caroline Fertleman, M.D., and Simone Cave. Da Capo. $12.

Gluten-Free on a Shoestring: 125 Easy Recipes for Eating Well on the Cheap. By Nicole Hunn. Da Capo. $19.

     These would be called “special needs” books if the phrase had not been taken over by the politically correct contingent in an attempt to describe people needing extra assistance because they are in some way disabled…sorry, “differently abled.” Vocabulary and political arguments aside, though, these are clearly niche publications, intended for people with particular problems to solve and a need for guidance in dealing with them. The title of Potty Training Girls the Easy Way makes the book’s content self-explanatory: this is a short work (126 pages of text, in large type, with plenty of white space) for parents seeking help in teaching girl children to move a step beyond diapers. Pediatrician Caroline Fertleman and health editor Simone Cave explain the steps to use when a girl is 2¼ years old (the authors’ recommended average age for potty training), starting with what to call her private parts (they suggest “private parts”), including signs that a toddler is both physically and mentally ready for training, and discussing ways to lead up to toilet training and then actually do it. Parents who have toilet trained without significant difficulties will find the book simplistic, even silly, but they are not the intended audience. The authors really have thought the process through – for instance, they tell moms to “wipe the seat of public toilets and sit down rather than squat” because “your daughter will be watching closely and will imitate you when she’s old enough, and she won’t be able to squat over a toilet because she’ll be too short.” The basic approach here involves “potty-training ‘sessions,’ beginning with just an hour a day without a diaper and gradually building up until your daughter never wears a diaper at home during the day.” Fertleman and Cave explain, in detail, how to lead up to the first day of training and then what to do on “D-Day.” Positive reinforcement, so common in today’s books about child-rearing, is a must, not only to avoid having the girl feel bad when (not if) she has an accident, but also to make her feel wonderful when she has a success: “The first time your daughter pees or poops in the potty, go crazy with the praise. Clap, kiss her, phone Daddy to tell him, and award her a particularly pretty sticker.” The approach is simple and progressive, and the authors are careful to discuss special circumstances, such as “when your daughter announces she needs to pee or poop and there’s just no way that you can get her to a bathroom in time.” The book is mother-focused, but there are some suggestions for fathers, too: “A wheelchair-accessible toilet is generally the best option,” but if there isn’t one, “carry her straight into the [men’s room] cubicle to avoid her becoming curious and wandering off.” They do not, however, deal with what to do if no cubicles are available – a fairly common situation in men’s rooms, which have fewer of them than women’s rooms do. In any case, a certain application of common sense will go a long way toward helping frazzled parents handle unpredictable toilet-related events, and inexperienced parents (whose common sense in such matters has not yet had a chance to evolve) will find sensitive, carefully structured ideas here to help things move along as smoothly as possible.

     A different sort of special-interest problem is addressed by blogger Nicole Hunn in Gluten-Free on a Shoestring. There has been a great proliferation of gluten-free foods in recent years as the diagnosis of diseases relating to gluten absorption has produced more and more such cases (or has recognized more and more previously unknown ones). As usual in a free-market economy, supply of gluten-free products has increased dramatically in order to service soaring demand. But also as usual, these specialty items – made in smaller quantities than traditional goods and often by smaller companies – can cost a lot more: often two-and-a-half times as much, according to Hunn. Hence this book’s underlying idea of planning and making gluten-free meals at home while using online coupons and careful shopping to get the best prices possible (Hunn provides specific suggestions on where to get inexpensive gluten-free items). One basic element of the book is adapted from an approach long favored by money-saving-meals books: make lots of basic ingredients and “foundation recipes” at one time and then, to avoid waste, use the excess from one recipe as part of another. This means not having to start every recipe from scratch every time, and makes it possible to buy certain ingredients in bulk – resulting in a saving of both time and money. You can also make larger amounts of a food than you can use at one meal – cornbread, for example – and then use the remainder from the first meal as part of the next (for instance, serve the cornbread as bread one night, then use it as the foundation of stuffing a few nights later). In addition to shopping and meal-preparation ideas, Hunn offers, as her subtitle indicates, 125 recipes, which take up the bulk of the book. They are of all kinds: sauces such as barbecue and sweet-and-sour; dips such as spinach and hummus; breakfast foods such as bagels, cinnamon rolls and muffins; breads, such as focaccia, buttermilk biscuits, white sandwich bread and soft pretzels; main courses such as chicken pot pie and pot roast; and loads of desserts – apple cake, pumpkin bread, chocolate-chip cookies, graham crackers, banana cream pie, devil’s food cake and others. It is a stretch to describe all the recipes as “easy” – not all readers will agree – but Hunn does a good job of explaining what is required and taking readers step by step through the cooking or baking process. And while the book contains only a few photos of the foods, those it does pitcure certainly look delicious. It is unlikely that Hunn’s book will appeal to anyone who does not have the special need of gluten-free eating – but for those who do need to avoid gluten, it will offer many attractive ideas for creating and enjoying meals that will not cause the gastrointestinal distress associated with a gluten allergy.

(+++) ALWAYS ADVENTURING

Warriors: Omen of the Stars #1—The Fourth Apprentice. By Erin Hunter. Harper. $6.99.

Seekers #4: The Last Wilderness. By Erin Hunter. Harper. $6.99.

Seekers #6: Spirits in the Stars. By Erin Hunter. Harper. $16.99.

Seekers (Manga Book 2): Kallik’s Adventure. Created by Erin Hunter. Written by Dan Jolley. Art by Bettina M. Kurkoski. Tokyopop/HarperCollins. $6.99.

     Erin Hunter is a one-woman publishing industry. Keeping track of her ever-expanding stories of animal quests and adventures – which involve animals that have some human characteristics but are nevertheless not fully anthropomorphized – is well-nigh impossible. The books exist as hardcovers, softcovers and graphic (manga) novels. Within Hunter’s primary Warriors series, there are multiple sub-series. And the possibilities seem always to grow as Hunter expands the range of her characters, introduces new ones, changes the forms of characters’ interactions, focuses and refocuses the stories by highlighting new animals or conflicts, and generally keeps things as thoroughly mixed as possible – confusingly so in some ways, since the interrelationship among series is not always clear (in terms of what happened when relative to what happened in other groups of books). Nevertheless, Hunter’s stories are invariably well told, and she is sufficiently aware of the confusion that her multiple plots may generate so that she provides maps and, in the case of her many cat-focused stories, lists of major and minor characters and capsule descriptions of their appearance and their place within the clans. The Fourth Apprentice, the first book in the sequence called Warriors: Omen of the Stars, which was originally published in 2009 and is now available in paperback, has to do with the enigmatic prophecy that Jayfeather and Lionblaze of ThunderClan will hold the stars’ power in their paws – which means what, exactly? Does it refer to the actual stars, to StarClan, or to something else? The two apprentices await the visit of a StarClan warrior to a third ThunderClan cat, whose destiny will be linked forever to theirs. Prophecies abound here, notably one about the re-emergence of ancient grievances. It is left up to the apprentices to try to unravel the many mysteries – which they will begin to do in the next book, Fading Echoes. Readers who become really involved in the world of Warriors will especially enjoy the bonus “Adventure Game” offered at the end of this paperback: it includes and expands upon elements of the cats’ adventures.

     In addition to continuing to produce Warriors volumes of several types, Hunter has been creating a separate series, Seekers, which focuses on bears. It is only a single series at this point, although it is fair to assume that if it succeeds with readers as Warriors has, there can easily be spinoffs and additional series here, as there are in Warriors. The Seekers series has now reached its sixth book, with earlier ones coming out in paperback and, in some cases, as illustrated manga volumes. The Last Wilderness, the fourth book in this series, is about what initially seems to be a journey’s end – but turns out only to be the start of a new one’s beginning. Toklo (grizzly bear), Kallik (polar bear) and Lusa (black bear) here reach the Last Great Wilderness, the near-legendary place they have been seeking in the first several books, with the help of their shapeshifting guide, Ujurak. But then the friends start to drift apart, each following a different set of instincts dictated by Hunter’s understanding of the impulses that drive real-world bears. This remains a story of friendship, though, because when there is a disaster in the Last Great Wilderness, the friends find themselves together again, and on a new quest – which is also a continuation of the old one. The story continues in the fifth book, Fire in the Sky, and now in the sixth, Spirits in the Stars, which focuses on Kallik’s territory – the ice – and shows how the cold and snow take their toll on Toklo and Lusa. But the friends are in less dire straits than the bears they eventually encounter on land, which are ill with some unknown condition that the friends need to figure out, even if it means the seeking of one of their number will end in this frozen place.

     The manga versions of Hunter’s stories simplify the tales while making them more readily accessible. Kallik’s Adventure tells of the cub and her brother, Taqqiq, and their mother, Nisa – the stories the cubs hear, the way they learn of the world around them, the unlikely friend they make when they disobey their mother, and the cubs’ growing understanding of the sacrifices they must make in order to live in their harsh polar environment. Well paced and nicely illustrated, it is nevertheless less effective than the Seekers novels themselves. But its aim is different: this and the other manga books are for ages 8-12, while the novels are for ages 10 and up; and although the difference may not seem substantial in chronological terms, the novels do expect more of readers through their greater depth of characterization, their longer descriptive passages and their lesser insistence on action scene piled upon action scene. It seems perfectly reasonable that readers pulled into the worlds of Warriors and Seekers by the manga books will move, in time, to Hunter’s original, deeper stories, which weave a richer tapestry even as they expand in so many directions that their relationships can sometimes be a bit difficult to follow.

(+++) STRING SOLOS AND MORE

Lyapunov: Violin Concerto in D minor; Symphony No. 1. Maxim Fedotov, violin; Russian Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Dmitry Yablonsky. Naxos. $8.99.

Mieczyslaw Karłowicz: Violin Concerto in A; Serenade, Op. 2. Ilya Kaler, violin; Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Antoni Wit. Naxos. $8.99.

Tartini: Violin Sonata in G minor, “The Devil’s Trill” (arr. Kreisler); Bach: Chaconne from Partita in D minor, BWV 1004; Wieniawski: Légende in G minor (arr. Gustav Saenger); Variations on an Original Theme for Violin and Piano; Franck: Sonata for Violin and Piano. Ray Chen, violin; Noreen Polera, piano. Sony. $11.98.

Hoffmeister: Double Bass Quartets Nos. 2-4; Schubert: Arpeggione Sonata (arr. Norbert Duka for double bass). Norbert Duka, double bass; Ernö Sebestyén, violin; Helmut Nicolai, viola; Martin Ostertag, cello; Phillip Moll, piano. Naxos. $8.99.

     Violinists seeking outlets for their virtuosity, and willing to go beyond the standard repertoire, have an unusually wide array of choices nowadays, as interest rises in long-forgotten but often very worthy violin concertos and other works that provide opportunities for both subtleties of technique and fireworks. Sergey Lyapunov’s very well-made Violin Concerto (1915, revised 1921) gives Maxim Fedotov plenty of chances to show his mettle, and gives listeners many opportunities to hear Tchaikovskian romanticism: some lovely themes, considerable challenges in passage work, and unceasing demands on the violinist for beauty of tone combined with impeccable phrasing. A single-movement work, this concerto effectively alternates sections that wear their heart quite deliberately on their collective sleeve, as shown in Liapunov’s tempo indications, such as Allegro appassionato and Un poco più tranquillo. The concerto is not especially distinguished in form (it takes after Bruch’s Violin Concerto No. 1), but it has lovely melodies and effective display passages, and Dmitry Yablonsky and the Russian Philharmonic handle the broadly sketched orchestral sections very well indeed. They also do a fine job with Lyapunov’s Symphony No. 1, an early work (dating to 1887, when the composer was 28) that includes some interesting horn writing, well-handled rhythmic changes and a certain level of grandiosity that echoes Tchaikovsky – even though the work was less influenced by him than by Mily Balakirev, who always had a major effect on Lyapunov and who actually had a hand in the creation of the symphony.

     The violin concerto by the short-lived Polish composer Mieczyslaw Karłowicz (1876-1909) is another that shows distinct traces of Bruch’s influence, although it is in three distinct movements (which are, however, joined to each other). Dating to 1902, this concerto too shows strong Tchaikovskian influence in its overall sound, although its melodies and formal design have enough originality to give it the composer’s personal stamp. Ilya Kaler handles it with considerable sensitivity and skill, and Antoni Wit and the Warsaw Philharmonic provide very fine if not especially distinctive accompaniment. The orchestra also does a good job with Karłowicz’ first orchestral work, a Serenade dating to 1897 that is actually less influenced by the popular contemporary serenades of Tchaikovsky, Dvořák and Josef Suk than might be expected. Karłowicz’ work includes a March, Romance, Waltz and Finale, all of them expressive and well harmonized, with typical Romantic-era yearning in the second movement and a pleasantly humorous interchange between upper and lower strings in the third. A slight work, it is nevertheless quite an attractive one; and, like the concerto, makes a listener wonder how Karłowicz might have developed as a composer had he not died in an avalanche while skiing.

     The works on Ray Chen’s debut CD are better known than those of Lyapunov and Karłowicz, and the CD is designed as a display opportunity for the young violinist rather than a disc focused on the music for its own sake. This is nevertheless a meatier debut release than acclaimed young violinists typically receive. Chen, a 22-year-old Taiwan native, won both the Queen Elisabeth Competition (in 2009) and the Yehudi Menuhin Competition (in 2008), and a program designed to showcase his virtuoso technique would be the likely outcome of those early successes. But there is greater depth to this release than one might expect, especially in the inclusion of César Franck’s only violin sonata. This is a late work and a deep one, showing that Franck – a pianist – had a natural affinity for the violin, at least when he could create a work with the assistance of such a virtuoso as Eugène Ysaÿe. Mellow, emotionally committed and interesting in its balance of violin and piano – which Franck treats as equals – the sonata is a work of considerable depth, and it is to Chen’s credit that he plays it with warmth, attentiveness and considerable depth of feeling. It is the high point of a CD that indicates the potential for this violinist to move beyond the disc’s title, “Ray Chen: Virtuoso.” The remaining works here are fine, but of lesser interest. The best of them is Wieniawski’s Variations on an Original Theme, which fully exploits the violin’s (and violinist’s) technical capabilities while also having something meaty about it – in contrast to the composer’s familiar Légende, which is one-dimensional and attractive, but to which Chen brings nothing special. Nor is there anything outstanding about Chen’s way with the Bach and Tartini works here – his playing is quite fine, even admirable, but lacks any real affinity for Baroque style and the Baroque form of expressiveness. Still, Chen may well grow into that type of sensitivity – he certainly shows enough sense of involvement in the Franck and Wieniawski works. And Noreen Polera makes a fine accompanist for Chen: in the forefront when she should be, well balanced in the Franck, but willing to assume a subsidiary role as needed to give Chen the prominence this program invites.

     If the violin is the most prominent solo string instrument, its opposite, surely, is the double bass, for which front-and-center roles are very few indeed. Franz Anton Hoffmeister (1754-1812) was one of the few composers before Bottesini to give the bass a chance to show its full capabilities. Hoffmeister’s Double Bass Quartets do this by simply replacing the first violin with a bass – and expecting the bassist to lead the quartet, just as a violinist usually would. This results in works that initially sound top-heavy but whose sonic world soon seems simply like an alternative to that of the traditional string quartet, with somewhat more “oomph” but little sense of being either lumbering or dragged down by the weight of the lead instrument. The other major change that Hoffmeister makes in his quartets involves the cello, which is relegated to a singularly minor role, most likely to avoid having a second low string instrument counter the effects of the bass to any significant degree. Unfortunately, the novelty of Hoffmeister’s quartets wears off quickly, since the music itself is foursquare and not especially distinguished – it is solid stuff, but not very inspired. The fact that all three quartets on the new Naxos CD (which is a re-release of performances recorded as long ago as 1980 and 1984) are in the same key, D major, reinforces the monotony of the music. Everything is quite well played, but any way you look at it, Hoffmeister is a minor composer. Not so Schubert: the arrangement for double bass of his Arpeggione Sonata, which these days is usually played on viola or cello, is quite well done. Norbert Duka not only did the arrangement but also produces in the performance a sound of considerable subtlety, lovely tone quality and (especially in the Adagio) great emotional warmth. This is both the finest music on the CD and the most interesting interpretation – listeners will have to decide whether the excellent Schubert, added to the novelty of the Hoffmeister works, will provide enough reason to own the disc.

(+++) AS AMERICAN AS…

Gershwin: Cuban Overture; Bernstein: Symphonic Dances from “West Side Story”; Ravel: Daphnis et Chloé Suite No. 2; Wagner: “Tristan und Isolde”—Prelude and Liebestod. Chicago Symphony Orchestra conducted by Daniel Barenboim. Warner. $18.99.

Charles Coleman: Streetscape; Deep Woods; Jennifer Higdon: Fanfare Ritmico; Carter Panin: Slalom; Jonathan Bailey Holland: Halcyon Sun; Kevin Puts: Network. Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra conducted by Paavo Järvi. CSO Media. $16.99.

Paul Lansky: Threads. Sō Percussion (Eric Beach, Jason Treuting, Josh Quillen and Adam Sliwinski). Cantaloupe Music. $9.99.

     While there is no universally accepted definition of “American music,” there are some characteristics that composers from the United States tend to bring to their works more often than not: a certain directness of expression, willingness to experiment with rhythms and instrumental timbres, frequent jazz-influenced inflections, and a degree of openness that is not to be confused with simplification but that does result in directness of communication between composer and listener. These are by no means universal characteristics, but they are all in evidence in the American works heard on these recent releases. Gershwin’s well-known Cuban Overture, with its extensive use of maracas, bongos, gourd and Cuban sticks, is filled with effective coloristic elements and is structured primarily as a rumba, but there is something brashly American about the ebullience with which Gershwin pulls all the elements together. Daniel Barenboim’s performance with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra is a touch too restrained and serious – a bit more sheer exuberance would serve the music better – but the playing is certainly first-class. Barenboim also emphasizes the “symphonic” element in Bernstein’s Symphonic Dances from “West Side Story,” dwelling on the slower and more expansive elements. The brighter, faster, jazzier dances get their due but, again, with something less than abandon; this is a well-managed performance that could have benefited from a somewhat less controlled feeling. Barenboim actually does better with the non-American works on this CD (whose musical mixture is, in truth, rather odd). The Ravel Daphnis et Chloé Suite No. 2 sounds lovely, with especially fine flute playing, and its concluding Danse générale brims with high spirits. And Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde music is just gorgeous, the Prelude filled with yearning that is beautifully communicated by the strings – although the Liebestod is a trifle on the cool side.

     The new Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra CD, on the orchestra’s own label, contains 100% American music, and it is all program music of one sort or another, as indicated by the album title, “American Portraits.” Half the CD is taken up by two well-made works by Charles Coleman (born 1968). Streetscape, a city portrait in the mode of Gershwin’s An American in Paris – whose sonic landscape it periodically recalls – actually uses Respighi’s The Pines of Rome as a “role model,” according to the composer; but this urban portrayal sounds distinctly American in its contrast of brashness with a periodic quiet that merely anticipates the next burst of sound. Deep Woods, based on a painting by Charles Yoder, is somewhat less effective: it is atmospheric enough but not especially distinctive. Nor is Fanfare Ritmico by Jennifer Higdon (born 1962) a particularly striking work: its rhythms are clear and its orchestration well done, but it goes on too long for what it has to say, and comes across as rather repetitious even though the notes themselves are not repeated. Slalom by Carter Pann (born 1972), on the other hand, works very well: longer than Higdon’s work, it seems shorter, perhaps because it is structured in multiple brief segments that are intended to represent stages of a downhill ski run. A sense of zipping along combines with one of appreciation of the landscape through which the skier moves, and the final glide has just the right sound of skis on powdery snow. Halcyon Sun by Jonathan Bailey Holland (born 1974) is a more ambitious work, a tribute to the Underground Railroad and the freedom that escaped slaves found at the end of their journey. But there is little sense of struggle here – only of triumph – and as a result, the piece comes across as rather unidimensional. So does Network by Kevin Puts (born 1972), but the Puts work is shorter and more successful in its combination of rhythmic drive with interesting orchestration that produces some attractive sonic combinations and an overall sense of forward motion – although to no particular end. Paavo Järvi conducts the pieces with enthusiasm and understanding, and the CD has a number of attractive moments, although none of the works on it comes across as being so distinctive that it is likely to become an American classic.

     Paul Lansky’s Threads does not seem to be looking for any sort of “classic” status – it is just fun, and undoubtedly very enjoyable for percussionists to perform. Written in 2005 for the four-member ensemble called Sō Percussion, it is a half-hour compendium of 10 movements, played without interruption, in which Baroque titles (prelude, recitative, chorus, aria, chorale prelude) are placed at the service of vibraphone and glockenspiel sections that alternate with drumming-dominated segments that give way to what can only be called “noise interludes” – which feature bottles, flower pots and crotales (small tuned cymbals). Lansky (born 1944) weaves these “threads” into a sonic tapestry that is filled with fascinating touches, even if it does not produce an especially meaningful whole or seem to build to any particular conclusion. Threads does showcase the very wide range of qualities of which percussion instruments are capable: there are genuinely tender and lyrical moments in contrast to the punchier ones. But it is the forceful sections, for which percussion has a natural affinity, that are the most effective here – and, in their sheer brashness, the most “American” in feeling. Threads does leave a lingering sense that it is probably more fun to perform than to hear – a full half hour of these sounds is a bit much. But there are certainly some intriguingly crafted elements in Lansky’s work.