(++++) GHOSTLY RETURNS

Norton Ghost 15.0. Windows 7, Vista or XP/SP2. Symantec. $69.99.

     Symantec’s Norton Ghost may have been too aptly named. It sometimes seems like a wisp of a thing, spotted rarely in the real world, true and meaningful to those who believe in it but irrelevant and for all purposes nonexistent for everyone else. It is a top-notch product that delivers exactly what it promises, but it is also a product that makes sense for only a limited number of business and personal computer users.

     Norton Ghost is essentially a backup utility – one among many, and at $70 for use on a single computer, a very pricey solution. What makes it worthwhile for backup fanatics – there are such people, and arguably should be more of them – is the thoroughness of the job it does and the number of ways it allows users to protect their data. The new version, Norton Ghost 15.0, adds something not available before: cold imaging, which means the ability to back up files without actually installing the product. This is a very neat trick – it certainly saves time – but it is merely the latest in a series of backup availabilities within the Ghost line.

     Consider: the software backs up a PC automatically if a serious security threat is discovered through Symantec’s ThreatCon, a complex indicator of potential malware. Ghost does a full system backup – not just files and folders, but everything – through a process called imaging; and it can back up an entire drive or only part of it, if the drive is partitioned. Ghost can also back up selectively – only specific files and folders, only certain types of files and folders (such as documents or photos), or only files that have changed since the last use (incremental backup). Norton Ghost 15.0 is the first version of the software designed for compatibility with the Windows 7 operating system. It is also the first version that supports use of 25G and 50G Blue-ray discs (as well as such backup media as external hard drives, networked drives, CDs and DVDs).

     Now consider: is all this information fascinating, or are your eyes glazing over? Only in the first case should you even consider Norton Ghost 15.0. The fact is that this software does very little that is not done elsewhere for less money or with greater utility. You can back up two gigabytes of selected files and folders online using Mozy, for example – for free (larger backups are available for a fee). You can buy a 250-gig Seagate Replica external hard drive for not much more than the cost of Norton Ghost 15.0, plug the drive in, and have automatic full-system and incremental backups running constantly while your computer is turned on – no tweaking required. If you are impressed with the way Norton Ghost 15.0 stores recovery points at offsite locations using FTP, you may want to consider the software. But if you simply like the flexibility of being able to decide whether to do backups based on a schedule or based on an event (such as new-software installation), you have plenty of other options. If enhanced data security through Windows 7 Bitlocker is crucial to you, then the fact that Norton Ghost 15.0 is supported by this protective feature is a big plus for buying it; if this is not a factor in your everyday personal or work life, the Ghost approach is overkill.

     And that is finally the weakness of Norton Ghost 15.0, as it was of earlier versions of the product. This is a top-notch, full-featured backup utility that gives users more control over the backup process, in more ways, than they will find almost anywhere else. But the reality of computer use today is that too few people do any backups at all, and those who do them usually want them to be as simple, seamless and uninvolving as possible – so the people can get on with their everyday work, not spend time configuring and managing backups of it. For individuals and businesses that need tremendous flexibility and high-level data protection, Norton Ghost 15.0 is an excellent investment and as robust a program as anyone could want. But it is not simple; it is not straightforward; and it does not provide substantial advantages over less-complex, less-expensive (or even free) forms of backup for people simply seeking basic data protection. Power users and corporations with significant security needs should certainly consider Norton Ghost 15.0. For most people, though, the product will remain as hard to grasp as the spirit for which it is named.

(++++) THE POWER OF LIVE RECORDINGS

Bruckner: Symphony No. 7. Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Mariss Jansons. BR Klassik. $16.99 (SACD).

Mahler: Symphony No. 7. Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks conducted by Mariss Jansons. BR Klassik. $16.99 (SACD).

Mahler: Symphony No. 2. Miah Persson, soprano; Christianne Stotlin, mezzo-soprano; Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Chorus conducted by Bernard Haitink. CSO Resound. $24.99 (2 CDs).

     The dynamics of the recording industry have changed in ways that do not favor major symphony orchestras. For decades, the orchestras received a reliable revenue stream from major-label sales of their performances. But the proliferation of recordings of similar repertoire and the overall decline in sales of classical music – and, recently, sales of CDs in general – knocked the bottom out of a business model that relied on third-party recording and promotion. The more forward-looking orchestras decided to take control of the process, on the basis that if there would be fewer recordings sold, at least they should keep a higher percentage of the revenue. Both the Bavarian Radio Symphony and the Chicago Symphony have gone this private-label route; and if the economics have yet to be proved, one thing that is certain is that the arrangement makes some top-notch performances available to listeners at home – performances that might otherwise not be available at all. In the case of two new BR Klassik discs and one new CSO Resound release, the recordings are of live performances that would have vanished into the proverbial ether after the concerts – and having them available for repeated listening is a genuine pleasure. These are all excellent, thoughtful versions of major symphonies, featuring top-notch orchestras and conductors who exude a sense of sure style and strong interpretative opinions.

     To the extent that there is anything competitive about these self-released performances, the Bavarians have the better of it. The orchestra has a pure, well-balanced sound and a rich fullness that fits both Bruckner and Mahler exceptionally well. Mariss Jansons favors large gestures and considerable dynamism in the symphonies, giving Bruckner’s Seventh full scope and scale – and tremendous forward motion. This is a performance that scales heights rather than one that sings and lingers, although the softer and gentler passages certainly get their due. Jansons builds the symphony carefully, from its mysterious opening through its propulsive finale, producing a genuinely monumental reading in which Bruckner seems to mount one height only to begin to ascend the next. Well paced, strongly played and sweeping in scale, this Bruckner Seventh is both moving and thrilling.

     Jansons’ Mahler Seventh is even better. Mahler’s most difficult symphony to grasp – Deryck Cooke called it the “Mad,” although a name combining “Night” with “Naïve” would be more appropriate – the Seventh is an uneasy mixture of the dark and foreboding (at the start), the quiet and restful (the two “Nachtmusik” movements), and a finale so bright and blaring that it can easily getaway from the performers and bewilder the audience. Pulling the disparate elements together is no small feat, and Jansons does so with aplomb. Each movement gets careful attention to detail, both in the chamber-music-like passages in which Mahler abounds and in the grand climaxes for which he is better known. The naïve elements, such as cowbells, are well integrated into the sophisticated rhythms and harmonies. And the finale bounds to center stage with a brilliantly rousing timpani opening and then never lets go, as Jansons makes its insistent major-key brightness the brilliance of sunshine after a long, dark night of the soul. This is a reading that is thoroughly convincing on all levels.

     Bernard Haitink’s new Mahler Second is not quite at the same level, and the CSO Resound release asks a bit more of listeners than do the two from BR Klassik. This is a two-CD set, but the first CD contains only the 20-minute first movement, so it seems a bit unreasonable to price the recording at $24.99 (there is also an SACD version for $29.99). Haitink is one of the world’s great Mahler conductors, and he clearly knows the “Resurrection” score inside and out; the Chicago Symphony is a world-class orchestra and one of the finest in the United States; but the Chicagoans lack the warmth and fullness of the Bavarian musicians and other top European orchestras; and there are a few irritating mannerisms in this performance – a touch too much speed here, a bit of an unnecessary ritard there – that make it less than exemplary, although still very fine. The best moment is the start of the fourth movement, when Christianne Stotlin’s gorgeously warm mezzo-soprano voice emerges with strength as well as a plaintive quality. And there are many other outstanding elements in this performance, from the grand climaxes of the first movement to the sinuous weaving of the main part of the Scherzo to the power of the chorus in the finale. If this is not quite the ne plus ultra of Mahler Seconds, it is nevertheless a distinguished performance deserving of considerable applause – which, however, is not heard on the recoding (applause is included on the two BR Klassik discs). Whether releases such as those from CSO Resound and BR Klassik will help orchestras’ bottom lines is by no means certain, but it is certain that they provide listeners who could not attend the concerts themselves with welcome opportunities to hear some really excellent music making.

(+++) ADMIRABLE ATTEMPTS

Mark Adamo: Late Victorians; Regina Coeli; Overture to “Lysistrata”; Alcott Music. Emily Pulley, soprano; Andrew Sullivan, narrator; Dotian Levalier, harp; Eclipse Chamber Orchestra conducted by Sylvia Alimena. Naxos. $8.99.

Hannibal Lokumbe: Dear Mrs. Parks. Janice Chandler-Eteme, soprano; Jevetta Steele, mezzo-soprano; Kevin Deas, bass; Taylor Gardner, child soprano; Rackham Symphony Choir, Brazeal Dennard Chorale and Detroit Symphony Orchestra conducted by Thomas Wilkins. Naxos. $8.99.

     It is possible to admire and like the impulse behind creation of a piece of music without necessary admiring or liking the result. It is also possible to admire and like both the intention and the work, without necessarily wanting to live with the piece over time. That is the situation with Mark Adamo’s Late Victorians and Hannibal Lokumbe’s Dear Mrs. Parks. Adamo’s half-hour work is a tribute to AIDS victims, written in 1994 and revised in 2007. There continues to be much hand-wringing about AIDS and many acknowledgments of those it has affected, especially in the artistic and homosexual communities that have been hit hardest by the disease. But after a while – with ways to prevent transmission of AIDS now well known and the unending drumbeat of requests (if not demands) for sympathy (and money) – the whole “tribute” field starts to seem a little overdone. Adamo’s work is well crafted and cleverly titled: the name refers to Victorian houses in San Francisco, whose large gay community was hit especially hard by AIDS; the title was originally that of a magazine article that partly inspired Adamo’s work. Other inspirations for Late Victorians were the poetry of Emily Dickinson as reinterpreted by Camille Paglia, and the device from Haydn’s “Farewell” symphony in which orchestra members walked offstage in the finale. Adamo, best known as an opera composer, weaves these influences together skillfully: words from the magazine piece are spoken; four Dickinson poems are sung; and the works’ four movements are tied to each other with solo cadenzas by musicians who then leave the stage (an effect missing in the recording, of course). But does the work…well, work? Certainly the Eclipse Chamber Orchestra under Sylvia Alimena plays it well – this is an outstanding group in any music. But the cleverness of the concept tends to overwhelm the emotions underlying it, drawing attention more to structure and form than to the “tribute” elements that Adamo says are his main point. Furthermore, there is nothing really new in noting – however thoughtfully – that AIDS has claimed many young and worthwhile (and potentially worthwhile) lives. Listeners may not have heard Late Victorians before – this is its first recording – but they have heard its sentiments before, often, and that fact tends to vitiate the effectiveness of the piece.

     The shorter works on the Adamo CD are less fraught and more effective in their own ways. Regina Coeli is the slow movement from Adamo’s 2007 harp concerto, “Four Angels,” here rescored for strings alone. It is a piece of subtlety and grace. Overture to “Lysistrata” (2006) is short, bright, bouncy and very much in the spirit of Leonard Bernstein’s Candide overture, which Adamo cites as a source. Alcott Music, from the opera Little Women, is Adamo’s revision of his Alcott Portraits of 1999, which he composed for the Eclipse Chamber Orchestra. Although it is imbued with themes from the opera, the three-movement suite stands on its own as a character piece whose emotions range from dreamy and wistful to excited and exuberant.

     Hannibal Lokumbe’s Dear Mrs. Parks is a “tribute” piece in the same line as Adamo’s Late Victorians, but in even more extended form: it runs an hour and features large orchestra plus solo and choral voices. In 10 movements whose length varies from one minute to 13, the work – essentially an oratorio – pays tribute to civil rights icon Rosa Parks through imaginary letters written to her. This 2005 undertaking, for which Lokumbe (born Marvin Peterson) wrote both words and music, is as well-meaning as can be. The imaginary letters come from a black civil-rights activist, a white civil-rights pioneer killed by the Ku Klux Klan, and a young black man whose generation has received the benefits of the struggle. There is also a child soprano who represents innocence and hope, an obvious bit of typecasting that points to one of the work’s weaknesses. Obviousness abounds here – in the words of the tributes; the musical mixture of blues, jazz, gospel and African music; and the tremendous adulation heaped on Rosa Parks. Such adulation, although unsurprising, is singularly inappropriate for a woman who led for decades by her modesty and self-effacement – she always said she refused to give up her bus seat when told to do so simply because she was tired, not because she was acting in the service of a grand cause. The cause was grand, and it was perhaps inevitable that it would adopt her as one of its leading symbols; but year after year, it was Parks’ quiet fortitude that was most impressive – more so than this extended piece of hagiography. The music here is mostly well crafted (although quite derivative – intentionally so), and the performers bring enthusiasm and skill to the project. But it feels like a project, a carefully constructed piece designed to tug at such-and-such heartstrings in such-and-such a way. For limited audiences, Dear Mrs. Parks may have ongoing appeal, but it is hard to see the work as having staying power in purely musical terms.

(++++) PURELY FOR FUN

Trouble Gum. By Matthew Cordell. Feiwel and Friends. $16.99.

Yonderfel’s Castle. By Jean Gralley. Henry Holt. $16.99.

Buying, Training & Caring for Your Dinosaur. By Laura Joy Rennert. Pictures by Marc Brown. Knopf. $16.99.

     Some books are profound, meaningful, thoughtful. Some are complex, intricate, convoluted. And some are simple, straightforward and need no excuse for their existence except their entertainment value. So many kids’ books seem to bend over backwards to create a moral that it is a pleasure to find occasional ones that simply revel in telling light and amusing stories – as do all three of these.

     Trouble Gum is bubble gum in the hands (and mouths) of piglet kid Ruben and his younger brother, Julius, on a rainy day while Grammy is visiting. There’s nothing much to do, and when Ruben does try to do something, he is too loud or too bouncy – until Grammy offers him some gum, which “wasn’t often allowed. It tended to make a mess.” Any reader – even one as young as four or five – will soon figure out where this is going, and that is just where Matthew Cordell takes it: into repeated bouts of chaos. But this is such amusing chaos that kids and parents alike will laugh at it. There are the weird sounds Ruben makes while chewing; the odd chewing positions he assumes (lying down, upside down, and so on); and the trouble he gets into when he swallows, stretches, snaps and blows bubbles with the gum. Watching Ruben try to get gum out of Mom’s knit blanket is hilarious – as is watching him make Julius his partner in bubblicious crime. The biggest problem for parents with this book – after they stop laughing along with it – will be persuading their children that these things are funny in Cordell’s telling and art, but would not be amusing at all in real life.

     There’s trouble of a different sort for the good King Yonderfel and the “crowded and happy” castle to which he invites everyone, all the time. After a number of years, toward the beautifully multihued castle and its sparks of happiness comes rumbling a dark machine spewing clouds of smoke and throwing black dust behind it. It belongs to an “ogre guy” who, it turns out, owns the mountain and is doubling King Yonderfel’s rent. But the king does not charge his castle visitors for anything, ever, and can only afford to pay half the amount demanded by the ogre guy – whose dark purple cape spreads behind him like a cloud of ill will. Only half? Well, in that case – the ogre guy hooks his machine to the mountain and makes off with half of it, leaving the castle perched precariously on a precipice. And the once-happy people declare their king a “cabbage-headed nincombooby” and leave. And poor King Yonderfel comes up with a hilarious series of ideas to make his half-mountain castle attractive, including turning it into a toll plaza and a water slide. Nothing works, and the lonely king tries to pass the time by knitting towels – longer towels and longer ones – for years and years – until the arrival of a great storm forces all the people to the castle once again and gives Jean Gralley the chance to create a truly wonderful surprise twist, which seems to go awry (the words “the end” start to appear on one page) but eventually turns out quite wonderfully well. As does the whole book.

     Yonderfel’s Castle is set in vaguely medieval times; Laura Joy Rennert’s Buying, Training & Caring for Your Dinosaur juxtaposes something of much, much earlier times with the modern age. It’s a straightforward (but of course completely tongue-in-cheek) guide to choosing and taking care of the best possible pet dinosaur, from triceratops (“a great watch-dino”) to pteranodon (“long fourth finger perfect for removing unnecessary broccoli from dinner plates”) to spinosaurus (“an excellent sailboat”). The accurate facts about dinosaur names and anatomical features add to the fun here, as do Marc Brown’s rounded and nicely amusing illustrations – the dinos’ expressions are just right for contented pets (or maybe not so contented, in the case of T. Rex). But advice on picking a dinosaur is only part of the fun – there is also information on needed supplies (including “a long, LOOOOOOOOOOOOONG leash”); training (“dinos tend to sit when THEY want to, not when YOU want them to”); and activities (“Sign Dino up for your soccer league. Dinos make especially good goalies”). Rennert reserves her biggest type size to tell kids that “DINOS ARE FOR FUN!” And so is her book – from silly premise through to delightful conclusion (and the need for parents to explain why kids will not find friendly dinosaurs at any nearby pet shop!).

(++++) THE LONG AND SHORT OF HISTORY

A Really Short History of Nearly Everything. By Bill Bryson. Delacorte Press. $19.99.

The Century for Young People—Becoming Modern America: 1901-1936; Defining America: 1936-1961; Changing America: 1961-1999. By Peter Jennings and Todd Brewster. Delacorte Press. $9.99 each.

     Making big subjects understandable to young people is a big challenge. Making the biggest subject of all – literally everything – understandable is an even bigger challenge. Bill Bryson rises to it, for the most part delightfully, in A Really Short History of Nearly Everything. Originally published in Great Britain, the book lapses into Britishisms from time to time, but remains for the most part quite clear and understandable, even when dealing with subjects that are simply unimaginable: “By doing a lot of maths, scientists believe they can look back to one ten million trillion trillion trillionths of a second after its birth when the universe was so small that you would have needed a microscope to find it.” Bryson uses the knowledge of science to throw cold water on some favorite science-fictional concepts: “Based on what we know now, there’s absolutely no prospect that any human being will ever visit the edge of our own solar system.” In the main, though, he offers a tale of the wonders to be found right on Earth – and the wonderful ways in which people have explored, measured, discussed and argued about them. The trials and tribulations of scientists trying to weigh Earth – two of them being Charles Mason and Jeremiah Dixon, who later gave their names to the Mason-Dixon line – make fascinating reading. So do the arguments about the speed of geological change between the Catastrophists and the Uniformitarians. And the information that even today, Marie Curie’s papers are too dangerous to handle – because they were exposed to so much radiation for so long. Bryson does not shrink from difficult concepts, such as Einstein’s notion that “time is variable and ever-changing. It even has shape.” And he manages to explain difficult ideas with some very well-chosen images, as in his comment about the possibility of an asteroid hitting Earth: “Think of the Earth’s orbit as a kind of motorway on which we are the only vehicle, but which is crossed regularly by pedestrians who don’t look before stepping off the pavement.” From dinosaurs to bacteria, the hugeness of space to the microscopic world, Bryson offers a tour that is not only fascinating but also offbeat and quite thought-provoking: “It is a curious feature of our existence that we come from a planet that is very good at promoting life but even better at extinguishing it. The average species on Earth lasts for only about four million years.”

     According to Peter Jennings and Todd Brewer in their 1998 book, The Century, 100 of the most important years of all were those of the 20^th century – especially so in the United States. This is hyperbole, of course, but it does not make the three volumes for young readers derived from the Jennings-Brewer book (and originally published in 1999) any less interesting. Divided rather arbitrarily into periods based on the arguments that the authors want to make, the three books are fact-packed if less than stylish in presentation. For example, after the stock market crashed in 1929, “It was as if America had gone from a carefree summer into a freezing winter.” Jennings and Brewer are at their best when tossing out little bits of information with casual abandon, such as when they note (in discussing the rise of the automobile) that the first traffic light dates to 1922, the first shopping center to 1924 and the first public parking garage to 1929. The recollections by people who lived in and through specific events are also of considerable interest. For example, Junji Sarashina, who survived the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, recalls, “A lot of people were floating in the river; some were swimming, but some of them were dead, drifting with the current. Their skin was red and their clothes were nothing but strips of cloth hanging from them. …All night long we watched the town burn.” And decorated Vietnam veteran Larry Gwin says, “Any American soldier who went to Vietnam didn’t have to stay there long before he knew that there was something wrong with our presence there.” Jennings and Brewer clearly have a sociopolitical orientation that guides their choices of events on which to focus and people to include in their narrative; but for the most part, their skewing of matters is subtle rather than heavy-handed. Unfortunately, The Century for Young People is not especially good at giving context to the quotations from the people who speak from first-hand experience. Often a major, wrenching event gets short shrift: “The collapse of faith in American leadership and the defeat in Vietnam further undermined Americans’ self-confidence. People responded by turning inward and becoming more focused on themselves.” In all, the once-over-lightly approach of The Century for Young People merits a (+++) rating for clear writing and inclusion of people who actually experienced many of the important events of the 20^th century; but these three books are far from the last word on that century, even from the limited perspective of the United States.

(+++) CONTEMPLATIONS

Night Lights. By Susan Gal. Knopf. $14.99.

Who Will I Be, Lord? By Vaunda Micheaux Nelson. Illustrated by Sean Qualls. Random House. $16.99.

     Young children thinking about the year ahead – or just the next day – will find a lot to consider in these two books. Night Lights is a simple bedtime story for ages 3-6 – but it is also more. With very few words and many dark-hued illustrations, Susan Gal shows all the ways the world gets light, in little bits here and there, after the sun goes down. The book starts with a mother and daughter bicycling home from wherever they have been, the headlights on their bikes and the streetlights along the road throwing patches of brightness onto an otherwise dark and quiet scene. At their house, there are bits of light everywhere, and the naming of those lights constitutes the only text in the book: firelight, candlelight, reading light, flashlight and more – even lightning! (with an exclamation point) that causes mom, daughter and their dog to run inside. The repetition of the word “light,” in so many contexts, creates a kind of background hum that makes this book very restful to read to a young child. It also invites quiet thoughtfulness about what went on during the day and what the next day will bring, as the child in the book falls peacefully asleep by moonlight.

     The wondering is more verbal than pictorial in Vaunda Micheaux Nelson’s Who Will I Be, Lord? Intended for slightly older kids – ages 4-8 – this is a book focused on the African-American experience, with a little girl thinking back over her family history and trying to figure out what it implies for her own future. She thinks of her great-grandfather, a mailman and musician whose own grandfather had been a slave; and of her great-grandmother, who “mama’d five children and made the best cakes in the county” – and who was white, and was disowned by her parents for marrying a black man. She thinks of her grandfather, a preacher, and her grandmother, a teacher; her uncle, a pool shark; her cousin, a jazzman; and her own parents, a car repair man and stay-at-home mom. As she thinks of each person, she contemplates what their lives are like and wonders about her own future, almost as in the refrain of a poem: “My grampa is a preacher. And what will I be, Lord? What will I be?” Of course, she is far too young to know for sure what she will become, and there is no answer to her repeated questions by the end of book, by which time “what will I be?” has turned into “who will I be?” But the little girl realizes that what and who she is as an adult is up to her – that is the lesson of her family and her history, as well as her parents’ teaching. This is a nicely contemplative book that, although told strictly from an African-American perspective and unlikely to have widespread appeal outside its target group, will give little girls who can relate to the narrator something to think about as they consider the many role models around them and the ones in their own families’ past.

(++++) MAGNIFICENCE – IN MUSIC AND YOUR MIND

Wagner: Der Ring des Nibelungen (complete). Bayreuther Festspiele Chorus and Orchestra conducted by Christian Thielemann. Opus Arte. $139.99 (14 CDs).

     There is no greater operatic spectacle than Wagner’s Ring cycle, and no composer who ever thought through the visual impact and design of his operas more thoroughly than Wagner did in this tetralogy. And yet there is something to be said for hearing the operas instead of seeing them, especially when it is a matter of hearing them in a performance from Bayreuth, whose opera house was built expressly for the staging of the Ring. The reason is that modern Bayreuth productions of the Ring have striven, again and again, to remake it visually – with greater or lesser success. The stagings, and the controversies surrounding them, can all too easily distract operagoers from the astonishingly rich musical fabric that Wagner wove in these splendid works – the pinnacle, for many, of German opera, if not for the entire operatic field.

     This 2008 Bayreuth Festival performance of the Ring is a case in point. Half-sisters Katharina Wagner and Eva Wagner-Pasquier are now joint leaders of the festival, after a series of political and family machinations themselves worthy of an opera. Tankred Dorst staged the operas as a juxtaposition of the gods’ world and a modern, 20^th-century one, to lukewarm reviews that often praised the stage design and costumes but less often complimented the direction and Dorst’s overall concept.

     None of that matters in this superb recording – the first-ever CD release from Opus Arte, which has heretofore produced only DVDs. What counts in this fine Ring set is the way Christian Thielemann handles the orchestra, chorus and individual singers (during the Bayreuth Festival itself, the four operas used different soloists for different cycles). Thielemann, born in 1959, has in a sense come of age through his Ring conducting, which was generally deemed uneven (but with episodes of brilliance) as recently as 2006. There is nothing episodic about his 2008 performance: it is wonderful. The pacing is often faster than is usual in these operas – although without any loss of grandeur – and the sense of forward motion throughout the cycle is a real joy to hear. It is especially helpful in Siegfried, the third and most static of the operas. In fact, Siegfried comes off, in some ways, even better than the other three works, with strong performances by Stephen Gould as the hero and Gerhard Siegel as Mime, and with Albert Dohmen so good as the Wanderer (Wotan in disguise) that he practically takes over the opera in his scenes. Linda Watson, as Brünnhilde, also sings exceptionally well, and Thielemann’s handling of the score reveals its inner dynamics – and inner dynamism – to a thoroughly impressive extent.

     The other operas fare perhaps a smidgin less well – largely because Siegfried is such a tough nut to crack – but are still outstanding. Dohmen is not quite as inspired as Wotan in Das Rheingold and Die Walküre, but other singers are top-notch. In Das Rheingold, the Rhinemaidens (Fionnuala McCarthy, Ulrike Helzel and Simone Schröder) beautifully blend playfulness with despair, and Andrew Shore gives real depth and real menace to Alberich. The one significant disappointment is Arnold Bezuyen as Loge, who comes across as characterless.

     Die Walküre has one outstanding performance, by Eva-Maria Westbroek as Sieglinde in a rare blend of dramatic effectiveness with vocal superiority – she is worth hearing again and again. Unfortunately, she more than overmasters Endrik Wottrich as Siegmund – he pushes himself and his voice hard, and creates some effective moments as a result; but a sense of the heroic is never present, while a sense of being at the limit of his abilities always is. In fact, this is doubly unfortunate, since Kwangchul Youn makes Hunding a far stronger character than he often comes across as being.

     In Götterdämmerung, Gould’s Siegfried is fine, but is disconcertingly surpassed vocally by Hagen, sung by Hans-Peter König – he dominates every scene in which he appears, right up to his final, fatal plunge into the Rhine in fruitless pursuit of the Ring. Watson’s Brünnhilde here is not quite as good as in Siegfried: she has much more to do, and her voice does not quite stand up to the demands of the final cataclysm. Christa Mayer is a genuinely moving Waltraute, and the Three Norns (Simone Schröder, Martina Dike and Edith Haller) are unusually well cast. Schröder also repeats as Floßhilde, with McCarthy as Woglinde and Helzel as Wellgunde, and they again make the Rhinemaidens effective and unusually full-featured characters.

     The most important recurring roles in this Ring cycle are those of the outstanding chorus, committed and beautifully balanced orchestra, and conductor Thielemann. And this is where these wonderfully recorded live performances really come into their own. Without the distraction of Dorst’s staging – whatever one may think of it – this Ring becomes music-making of the very highest order in Thielemann’s hands, with each opera complete in itself but carefully tied to all the others, both through Wagner’s structure and through Thielemann’s emphasis on the unifying musical and thematic elements. The whole presentation is enhanced by Opus Arte’s inclusion of complete librettos for each opera, along with brief but to-the-point notes and clear synopses. This is, in sum, an absolutely superlative Ring cycle, and a strong argument for envisioning Wagner’s masterpiece yourself, as the music carries you away to the composer’s world, instead of being guided by the hand and eye of a stage director whose vision may or may not complement (much less match) your own.

(++++) CELEBRATIONS

Mozart: Serenade “Gran Partita,” K361/370a; Divertimento, K166; arrangements of music from “Le Nozze di Figaro,” “Don Giovanni” and “Così fan tutte.” Zefiro conducted by Alfredo Bernardini. Naïve. $16.99 (2 CDs).

Copland: An Outdoor Overture; Schuman: New England Triptych; Holst: Hammersmith, Prelude and Scherzo; Robert Russell Bennett: Suite of Old American Dances; Paul Creston: Celebration Overture. U.S. Air Force Band conducted by Col. Lowell Graham. Klavier. $16.99.

     There’s nothing wrong with a little self-celebration – if you have created something worth celebrating – and the Naïve label is celebrating itself with 15 well-chosen reissues rather immodestly labeled “La Collection.” Each includes two CDs from the existing Naïve catalogue and an oversize booklet about the music and the artists, all packaged in a slipcase that makes the whole thing look more like a book than a CD set. The pricing is attractive – two Naïve CDs for the usual cost of one – and this celebratory series can provide a good opportunity to add some fine performances to a CD collection. The music covers quite a time span, from Gautier de Coincy (1177-1236) and Luca Marenzio (1553?-1599) to Xenakis and Boulez. The “La Collection” offering from the wind band Zefiro is typical of the productions. It includes excellent 1996 recordings of two Mozart works for wind band, plus Zefiro leader Alfredo Bernardini’s arrangements for 13 wind instruments of music from the three operas that Mozart wrote to libretti by Lorenzo Da Ponte. Bernardini presents Mozart’s harmonies in greater complexity than did the wind arrangers of Mozart’s own time, and his use of the same instrumental ensemble as in the “Gran Partita” helps cement this recording – which dates to 2004 – as an unusual one that is very well worth hearing. The arrangements do not follow the operas’ dramatic arc, but they do make Mozart’s expressiveness abundantly clear, and Bernardini throws in a few “showpiece” elements that Zefiro must have had great fun performing and that certainly are cause for celebration, self- or otherwise.

     The celebratory nature of the new U.S. Air Force Band recording for Klavier is clear from the outset: the CD is entitled “Celebration.” More to the point, it feels like a celebration – of music, primarily American music, and by implication of the United States itself. Yet this is no mere collection of hyper-patriotic tunes. Aaron Copland’s An Outdoor Overture is scarcely his most profound or compelling work – it was written for student musicians – but it is light, bright and thoroughly upbeat. William Schuman’s New England Triptych is more varied in approach and mood, including a moving slow central movement. Gustav Holst’s Hammersmith, Prelude and Scherzo – the sole non-American work on the CD – is a lovely blend of lyricism with revelry. Robert Russell Bennett’s Suite of Old American Dances is jocular. bright and very well scored. And Paul Creston’s Celebration Overture is rhythmically striking and effective, and a fine showpiece for the performers. The U.S. Air Force Band is as good as they come in this sort of music, handling everything with dynamism and a certain swagger – but not neglecting the subtler and softer sections of the pieces that contain them. Col. Lowell Graham leads the ensemble with great verve and spirit, and the result is an altogether pleasing CD that is sure to lift drooping spirits and keep optimistic ones high.

(++++) ERGO, ERAGON

Eragon’s Guide to Alagaësia. By Christopher Paolini. Knopf. $24.99.

Brisingr Deluxe Edition. By Christopher Paolini. Knopf. $29.99.

     It says something about the Eragon phenomenon that a splendidly made, elegantly designed gift book based on Christopher Paolini’s Inheritance cycle is in many ways more interesting than the thick novels of the cycle itself. Eragon’s Guide to Alagaësia is beautiful to look at and surprisingly comprehensive in explaining Paolini’s created (but very strongly Tolkien-derived) world and the races that inhabit it. The excellent illustrations, lovely maps and gorgeous art combine to give a greater feel of reality to Alagaësia than do the books themselves. Yes, the name of the land still sounds disconcertingly like “analgesia.” Yes, there are Beor Mountains (think of Tolkien’s shapeshifter Beorn), Palancar Forest (think of Tolkien’s “seeing stone,” a Palantír), Tronjheim (Trondheim in Norway has a very Tolkienian sound), Vol Turin (consider Tolkien’s Minas Tirith), and many other echoes of the great fantasist – plus echoes of other works as well. But in Eragon’s Guide to Alagaësia, the echoes are fainter than in the narrative and invented languages of Paolini’s novels, where they come through so strongly as to interfere at times with those elements of the story that really have originality. In this beautiful gift book, the eye is so delighted and distracted by the bound-in mini-books, the elegant colorings, the size comparisons and histories of the four two-legged races, the tales of dragon riders, and the well-summarized snippets of history that the derivative nature of Paolini’s work becomes almost irrelevant. Eragon’s Guide to Alagaësia can serve as an introduction to the Inheritance series, but it works even better as a supplement – a particularly wonderful gift for existing fans.

     Another possible gift, albeit a somewhat frustrating one, is the new deluxe edition of the cycle’s third book, Brisingr. This is the same tale of divided loyalties, desperate battles and an unending fight against tyranny told when Brisingr was originally published in September 2008. The deluxe edition dresses up the story with previously unseen art, a couple of deleted scenes in an appendix, some dwarf runes, and fine-grade paper with high-quality printing. But it remains the 750-plus-page book from which Paolini has said his editor cut 200 pages; it still rambles and could easily have been further tightened, although fans will surely welcome the way Paolini spins out so many things at so much length. Brisingr is subtitled, “The Seven Promises of Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular,” and indeed, promises prove conflicting and hard to keep here. Eragon’s cousin, Roran, needs Eragon to rescue Roran’s beloved; the Varden need Eragon’s help; the dwarves seek him; so do the elves. There is simply not enough of Eragon to go around. Nevertheless, despite some scenes of genuine excitement, Paolini’s writing remains uninspired and often plodding – although it is more assured in Brisingr than in the earlier Inheritance books, Eragon and Eldest. Still, Brisingr remains in many ways unoriginal; it gets a (+++) rating. And for whom is the deluxe edition intended? Fans will already have the earlier hardcover; non-fans will not want to enter the Inheritance cycle with the third of its four books; and the additions that make this edition “deluxe” are not really sufficient to justify buying the book if you already have it in good shape. A gift item, to be sure; but for whom? Let the buyer think carefully….

(++++) MANGA MARVELS

The Manga Artist’s Workbook. By Christopher Hart. Potter Style. $15.99.

Drawing Manga Animals, Chibis, and Other Adorable Creatures. By J.C. Amberlyn. Watson-Guptill. $21.99.

     Among the many once-over-lightly guides to drawing manga and anime characters, The Manga Artist’s Workbook is a standout – because it is not once-over-lightly. In fact, Christopher Hart’s step-by-step guide, which includes tracing paper to help you get the feel of the lines that give manga characters their personalities until you can draw them freehand, is more like three or four or five times over…and not lightly at all. Hart, from whose Manga for the Beginner this spiral-bound book is derived, gives excellent, unfailingly detailed advice on how to get the proportions of manga characters right so as to give them their unique look. For example, “Hair never lies flat, always adding size to the head.” And “windblown hair is more dramatic than stiff hair.” In a down angle, “ears [are] placed high on head” and “nose almost overlaps mouth.” There are natural standing poses, less-often-used poses such as rear view and side view, and there are opportunities to draw really interesting poses, such as “one knee bent, hands in front of body.” Speaking of hands, “it takes a subtle touch to draw pretty [female] hands,” while “male hands are slightly more challenging to draw than female hands, because they aren’t as soft looking.” Hart does more than instruct – he explains. And that is one thing that makes this drawing guide so valuable. Another is the way it builds: starting with heads and those famous extra-large manga eyes, Hart takes you through body parts, whole bodies, clothing, and then to fully characterized figures such as the “teen fighting girl” and “classic teen hero” shown in wonderful full-color detail on the front and back covers of the book. By the end of the book, when Hart says to “build your own character,” you will actually be able to – perhaps not with Hart’s own ease and skill, but with considerable success...on which you can then build further through practice.

     J.C. Amberlyn’s Drawing Manga Animals, Chibis, and Other Adorable Creatures is not quite at this high a quality level – it gets a (+++) rating – but it is in many ways more out-and-out fun than Hart’s book, because it focuses on the cute little subsidiary characters that people (so to speak) the manga and anime worlds. These are the huge-eyed, huge-headed cats, rabbits and unidentifiable things that sometimes participate in adventures and sometimes simply hang out on the sidelines. The proportions are what really matter here: heads can be fully half the size of bodies, and eyes are enormous even by manga standards. Amberlyn, an artist and animator, clearly knows what makes these characters effective, but she sometimes has trouble explaining what she means. For example, an illustration marked “no” shows an eye with solid lines visible at the inner corner. But in the text, Amberlyn writes, “Broken outlines for eyes are common in manga, but solid outlines for eyes can be used, too.” The best parts of this book are the ones that approach drawing in a creative way. For instance, “When drawing chibi bodies, it can help to keep the idea of a flour sack in mind” – after which Amberlyn shows how the sack shape can be used to convey emotion through body positioning. The book’s section on computer techniques – such as freehand drawings colored in Photoshop – is especially helpful for artists who are comfortable with software as a major tool. In all, Drawing Manga Animals, Chibis, and Other Adorable Creatures is a good book to supplement one, such as The Manga Artist’s Workbook, that gives basic techniques for manga drawing and focuses on portraying human characters. Like the characters she depicts, Amberlyn’s book is more of a side dish than a main course.

(+++) ALL YOU NEED IS – WHAT?

Patience with God: Faith for People Who Don’t Like Religion (or Atheism). By Frank Schaeffer. Da Capo. $25.

Love. By Edward Monkton. Andrews McMeel. $9.99.

     Frank Schaeffer is making a second career out of living down his first one. Schaeffer and his father, Francis Schaeffer, played major roles in shaping the evangelical Christian movement into a significant right-wing political force. Now, more than 25 years after his father’s death, the younger Schaeffer is creating novels and nonfiction (notably Crazy for God) about growing up in a fundamentalist family – and using them to disavow the very narrow view of God and religion within which fundamentalism flourishes. But Schaeffer remains a preacher at heart, and in Patience with God he preaches a kind of “middle way” that is intended to appeal equally to people dismayed by religious fundamentalism and to those fed up with the intensity and excesses of the so-called New Atheism. Saying that “the people who speak in God’s name [are] basically our national village idiots,” Schaeffer mocks those he once helped lead – while reserving equal scorn for “the no-God version of right-wing hucksterism” in which atheists, afire with their own brand of evangelical-but-godless fervor, are as narrow and uncritical in their thinking as the God-soaked fundamentalists they despise. Schaeffer counters both these extremes with thoughts that are, unfortunately, more pithy than profound. “The truth is…that we either experience God or we don’t. And just as in a marriage, once we have experienced God, we either choose to work to maintain that relationship or let it fade. In that sense we can choose to believe, just as on days when I’d rather be sleeping with another woman, I choose to stay married.” This is a sort of 2009 version of then-President Carter’s admission to Playboy magazine that he had “lusted in my heart,” and it is no more meaningful – even though Schaeffer clearly thinks it is. Essentially, he is saying that the experience of God is a personal one, that it comes to some people but not others (and that’s OK), that it comes at different times to different people (and that’s OK), and that in some cases it does not come at all (and even that’s OK). The most important thing is for everyone to tolerate everyone else – another of those “why can’t we all just get along?” moments that are meaningful only if you have not encountered them many times before. Schaeffer is apparently sincere (just as he was apparently sincere when promoting narrow-minded evangelism – he just didn’t know any better, he now says). But his sincerity oozes; it does not inspire.

     One problem with Patience with God is that it takes itself so remorselessly seriously. But even with a deeply serious subject – such as God or love, the latter being what many believe the former consists of – a touch of humor can leaven an otherwise serious message, making it easier to understand and accept. Interestingly, Love is the best little gift book to date by Edward Monkton (pen name of poet Giles Andreae) precisely because it is the most humorous – and not in a weirdly offbeat way (as in The Penguin of Death), but in the sort of straightforward manner that evokes chuckles. It is the silliness of the text in the book and the images that illustrate it that keeps it light; for instance, two lovers “arm in arm…stand on the SAUSAGE of LOVE looking out together at the KETCHUP of their DREAMS.” And speaking of dreams, there is one in which the narrator and his love appear as biscuits and he chases off “enemy biscuits.” And there is “The POTATO of LOVE,” of which it is written, “It is so full of LOVE that the ANGELS weep with envy at its coming and the HEAVENS sing a NEW and BEAUTEOUS song.” But when you look at it – hey, it’s only a potato. Thus, beauty and love – and perhaps God – are in the eye and heart of the beholder; and Love makes that point more effectively in 32 small-sized pages than Patience with God does in 230 intensely argued ones.

(++++) KEYBOARD MAGNIFICENCE

Liszt: Organ Works (complete). Martin Haselböck, organ. NCA. $129.99 (5 SACDs + DVD).

Idil Biret Concerto Edition, Volume 4: Liszt—Piano Concertos Nos. 1 and 2; Totentanz. Idil Biret, piano; Bilkent Symphony Orchestra conducted by Emil Tabakov. IBA. $8.99.

Bach: Concertos for Solo Harpsichord (complete); Prelude and Fugue in A minor, BWV 894. Elizabeth Farr, harpsichord. Naxos. $17.99 (2 CDs).

     Although Martin Haselböck’s superb recordings of Liszt’s organ works are available as individual SACDs, they are even better in the newly released complete set – not because the performances themselves are better (they are the same) but because the comprehensive survey of this highly important organ repertoire makes more sense, and possesses more cogency, when heard as a whole. Furthermore, Haselböck’s 45-minute discussion of Liszt’s organ music, on an included DVD, is more coherent and revelatory than the notes he wrote for each of the individual SACDs: those commentaries (which are included in this set in an oversize booklet) tend to get so bogged down in technical and historical details that non-specialists may find them daunting, or at least uninteresting. But no one interested in organ music – or in Liszt – will find Haselböck’s performances less than enthralling. He takes the full measure of some works that are central to the organ repertoire, Liszt having been almost singlehandedly responsible for changing the organ from an instrument for church music only into one that could, in addition to sacred works, be used for extensive secular pieces of style, elegance and virtuosity. On the sacred side stand such outstanding long-form pieces as Requiem (1868-83) and Missa pro Organo (1879), as well as chorales and laments and some rather spare and emotionally desiccated works of Liszt’s later years. On the secular side are works based on Meyerbeer’s Le Prophète and Wagner’s Tannhäuser (operas with religious themes but not ones of religion per se); an expansion of parts of Liszt’s own Dante Symphony; and a number of works based on ones by Bach – whose influence loomed large over all Liszt’s organ music. Haselböck’s playing is by turns sensitive, dramatic, controlled, anguished, light-fingered and brilliantly sonorous, as he takes the full measure of each of these pieces while placing them in a context that he explains with care and intelligence on the included DVD. This is scarcely an inexpensive set – although, with the individual SACDs priced at $24.99, it costs little more than the five of them put together – but it is an absolutely crucial one for anyone interested in organ music beyond Bach, and in Liszt’s music beyond virtuosic display and brilliantly nationalistic set pieces. It is, in short, a major achievement, with absolutely top-notch performances of music that, for all its importance, is too rarely heard and has never before been given such a fully realized and thoroughly thoughtful rendition.

     The more familiar side of Liszt is on display – and “display” is the right word – in the latest Idil Biret Concerto Edition release, which features the two piano concertos and the Totentanz. This is music that requires a combination of careful control (to keep it from spinning away from the soloist) and high-level virtuosity. Biret brings her usual thoughtfulness to it, and if occasionally a listener may wish for a bit more abandon (or seeming abandon), in the main these performances are as intense and strongly declaimed as one could wish. Biret favors comparatively slow tempos that bring out many nuances that can be lost at the breakneck pace used by some pianists. Her approach takes some getting used to but is completely convincing in context. And she has plenty of power when it is needed – in the final Allegro marziale animato section of Concerto No. 1, for example. She has the showpiece Totentanz well in hand, too, giving it a seriousness and intensity that it does not always receive from performers who seem to think of it as a kind of extended encore (very extended: Biret’s performance lasts almost 18 minutes). The Bilkent Symphony Orchestra under Emil Tabakov keeps up with Biret and is certainly responsive enough, but it is not really a world-class ensemble, and tends to sound a bit thin and stressed from time to time. Nevertheless, these 2004 performances of the concertos – and the 2007 rendition of Totentanz – are fine showcases for Biret’s art.

     But back to Bach’s influence on Liszt: it is absolutely fascinating to juxtapose Liszt’s works for solo organ with Bach’s Concertos for Solo Harpsichord. Their title means what it says: these pieces are in concerto form but are for solo harpsichord, not harpsichord and strings. There are 16 of these works in all, running a total of more than two-and-a-half hours, and they are not to be listened to all at once – the essentially monochromatic sound of the harpsichord (even one whose registrations are managed as skillfully as Elizabeth Farr does in this recording) makes them hard to take in huge doses. But of course they were not intended to be played or heard that way. These are Bach’s transcriptions of work by Vivaldi, Torelli and Telemann; less-known composers including Johann Ernst and brothers Alessandro and Benedetto Marcello; and composers whose identity is unknown. Like Liszt in his opera transcriptions many years later, Bach made these concerto transcriptions with care and close attention to detail, possibly for his own study. They are early Bach works, from his Weimar period, and are certainly not designed for virtuosic display, although they require a considerable amount of skillful playing – notably in fugal movements. Farr is an intelligent and committed interpreter of this music, performing it with grandeur (aided by the use of a two-manual harpsichord with 16’ sound) and considerable sensitivity. And the A minor Prelude and Fugue makes a fine encore to the concerto set. Even if these particular transcriptions did not directly influence Liszt – although perhaps they did – they are excellent examples of the way one composer learns from others through adaptation, alteration and updating. As Bach did with Vivaldi and others, so Liszt later did with Bach. Different time, different keyboard, but the compositional impulse remains much the same – and every bit as strong.

(++++) HOW VERY BRITISH

Elgar: The Crown of India; Imperial March; The Coronation March; The Empire March. Clare Shearer, mezzo-soprano; Gerald Finley, baritone; Barbara Marten, Deborah McAndrew and Joanne Mitchell, speakers; Sheffield Philharmonic Chorus and BBC Philharmonic conducted by Sir Andrew Davis. Chandos. $18.99 (2 CDs).

Bliss: Viola Sonata; Delius: Violin Sonata No. 3 (arranged for viola); Bridge: Pieces for Viola and Piano. Enikö Magyar, viola; Tadashi Imai, piano. Naxos. $8.99.

     The long-gone days of the British Empire resound strongly again – in very different ways – in these two new recordings. Elgar’s The Crown of India is a fascinating and very extended work, running more than two hours, with very British provenance and an unusual history. Staged in 1912 to mark the coronation of King George V and Queen Mary as Emperor and Empress of India, Elgar’s work harks back to the old tradition of the masque: a very elaborate theatrical entertainment, popular in the 17^th century with composers such as Henry Purcell. There is narrative, there is celebration, and there is a considerable amount of posturing that now seems distinctly old-fashioned and rather musty, with participants representing India, St. George, and the cities of Calcutta and Delhi. The libretto, by Henry Hamilton, is very much of its time and place and not particularly distinguished. But the music is quite solid, strong and sonorous: this is Elgar in his prime (he in fact conducted the first two weeks of performances of the work). The complete orchestral parts for The Crown of India were inadvertently destroyed in the 1970s, long after India gained independence from Great Britain – which means the excellent new recording led by Sir Andrew Davis, the first ever of the entire work, is in part a reconstruction. Anthony Payne completed the orchestration, using as his basis Elgar’s Crown of India Suite, which includes five pieces from the original score (plus a sixth, for solo violin, created specifically for the suite). Also surviving is the Crown of India March, which is not part of the suite. These works gave Payne considerable guidance in orchestrating the remainder of the work after the Elgar Society commissioned him to do so in 2007. He has done an excellent job: the music sounds throughout like Elgar’s, not like someone else’s interpretation of Elgar. The Crown of India is unlikely ever to receive considerable numbers of complete performances, since it requires five soloists (three of them in speaking parts), plus chorus and orchestra, to present a story that is quite out of tune with modern sensibilities. But for that very reason, it is wonderful to have this heretofore obscure but musically very interesting work available on CD in such a fine performance. Indeed, it is offered in two fine performances: the second CD includes the instrumental material and songs but omits the narrative and connective tissue provided by Hamilton’s words – and thus will likely be more satisfying to modern listeners. Furthermore, the two-CD set – being sold for the usual price of a single Chandos disc – is very well rounded out, again in the British Imperial spirit, with three of Elgar’s extremely fine marches: Imperial (1896-7), Coronation (1911) and Empire (1924). The material in The Crown of India will certainly not be to all modern tastes, but the music deserves far better than the obscurity in which it has so long languished.

     And speaking of languishing: the viola did so for centuries, suffering neglect as the smaller violin dominated both solo and orchestral playing. To a great extent, it was in Imperial Britain that the viola’s neglect began to be reversed, in large part with Walton’s Viola Concerto but in even larger part because of the renowned and long-lived violist, Lionel Tertis (1876-1975). It was for Tertis that Walton wrote his concerto in 1929 – and Tertis also had a huge influence on other British composers, even making a viola arrangement of Elgar’s Cello Concerto of which the composer approved. Sir Arthur Bliss wrote his Viola Sonata for Tertis in 1933 and dedicated it to Tertis “in admiration.” It is in fact an admirable work, moving from lyricism to solemnity to a scherzo-finale in the decidedly odd (and rather engaging) time signature of 6/16; and it is very well played in the new recording by the distinctly international pair of Enikö Magyar and Tadashi Imai. They also do a fine job with Tertis’ 1932 arrangement of Frederick Delius’ Violin Sonata No. 3, which Tertis played for the blind and nearly paralyzed composer (who died in 1934). The Delius work’s simplicity and lovely flow fit the viola quite well. And then, for an encore – or rather a series of them – Magyar and Imai offer seven short works by Frank Bridge, who was a violist but generally wrote brief pieces for violin or cello (which he later arranged for viola). The selections here, only two of which started out as viola pieces, date from 1901-8 and are quite varied in mood, with Magyar’s lithe and lovely playing giving each its due. Interestingly, there is a slight irony to Magyar’s considerable success with the music on this CD. She is Hungarian – indeed, the name “Magyar” means “Hungary” – and as it happens, the one 20^th-century viola concerto that stands as an equal to Walton’s was written by one of Hungary’s greatest composers, Béla Bartók.

(++++) NICE GUYS – AND NOT SO NICE

Neo Leo: The Ageless Ideas of Leonardo da Vinci. By Gene Barretta. Henry Holt. $16.99.

Building on Nature: The Life of Antoni Gaudi. By Rachel Rodríguez. Illustrated by Julie Paschkis. Henry Holt. $16.99.

The Rise and Fall of Senator Joe McCarthy. By James Cross Giblin. Clarion. $22.

     Whether well known or less so, whether heroes or villains, larger-than-life characters from the past make for fascinating reading – for young readers as well as adults. Neo Leo and Building on Nature are short books in oversize “picture book” format, but both pack a lot of information into a small number of pages. Gene Barretta’s story about Leonardo da Vinci’s many inventions is particularly cleverly done. The pages are set up to show “neo” ideas, such as the first contact lens (1887) and the first helicopter (1907), on left-hand pages – and Leonardo’s ideas from five centuries earlier on right-hand ones. So we find that Thomas Edison’s 1895 Kinetoscope was the forerunner of modern movie projectors – but Leonardo had already figured out “how to use light to project images through a lens.” James Starley created the forerunners of modern bicycles in 1870 – but Leonardo, although he may or may not have invented the bicycle itself (there is a dispute about it), did design gears, chains and other parts used in bikes. Making the “Leo” pages even more interesting is the backwards writing incorporated into them – a version of the writing that Leonardo himself did in his many notebooks (although he, of course, wrote in the Italian of his time, not in modern English). Some of the material here will likely be as fascinating to parents as to children, such as the fact that Leonardo not only designed but also constructed robots for court events. Equally intriguing is the information – given at the end of the book – that a number of Leonardo’s never-constructed inventions are actually being built today, and are turning out to work just as Leonardo said they would. Neo Leo is a simply wonderful introduction to the ideas of a thinker of astonishing genius.

     Antoni Gaudi is not as well known as Leonardo, but the 19^th-century architect from Catalonia had an effect on building that can be seen in Barcelona, Spain today – and that is really quite remarkable. From childhood, Gaudi observed nature closely, eventually incorporating elements of it into exceptionally clever designs, such as a door knocker that squashes a built-in bedbug whenever it is used and a peephole that resembles a honeycomb. Curving ramps, hallways resembling underwater caverns, pillars shaped like animals’ feet, a mosaic lizard guarding a park – Gaudi created all these and more. Rachel Rodríguez tells the story of his work without giving too much information on him as a person – and while barely mentioning the intense controversies that some of his works caused. Still, for young readers, Building on Nature is a fascinating introduction to one of the world’s most creative architects. The design of the illustrations by Julie Paschkis helps give the book an even stronger effect: pictures float against white backgrounds instead of taking up whole pages or appearing in frames, and the sinuous lines of the art parallel and complement the work done by Gaudi himself.

     The work done by Senator Joseph McCarthy, in contrast, tore down rather than building up. Decades after the “red scare” that followed World War II – a time when fear of Communism ran rampant and politicians, including future president Richard Nixon, took great advantage of it – the name of Joe McCarthy and the movement he spawned and led, McCarthyism, continue to resonate, always identified with over-zealous and vicious smear campaigns designed to destroy political and personal enemies. McCarthy, a Republican from Wisconsin, used bullying, half-truths, guilt by association and outright lies in pursuit of the Communists who, he said, had infiltrated all levels of the United States government and were undermining the country with an eye toward handing it over to the Soviet Union. James Cross Giblin’s The Rise and Fall of Senator Joe McCarthy puts the senator’s career in the context of the early years of the Cold War, enlivening what could be a straightforward history book by including plenty of photos and cartoons. Some of the pictures will be well known to adults of a certain age or a certain interest in history, such as the photo of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg at the time of their spy trial and the picture of McCarthy listening carefully to chief counsel Roy Cohn. But other photos will surely be unfamiliar: McCarthy almost buried in letters of support; McCarthy having breakfast at the home of friends Urban and Margery Van Susteren, parents of Fox News’ Greta Van Susteren; McCarthy on the bench as a circuit court judge; and many more. The cartoons can be at least as fascinating as the photos, such as Herblock’s panel showing the 1946 elections as a prizefight in which the cigar-smoking “The Campaign” smashes “Voter’s Intelligence” in the face. Giblin has a personal connection, of sorts, with McCarthyism: one of his college professors announced in class that he would not assign any studies of Marx or Marxism because of the nation’s political climate. In this book, Giblin details McCarthy’s rise, the climate of hysteria in which he flourished (and which he helped create), the famous Army-McCarthy hearings that helped bring him down, the hugely important role of famed journalist Edward R. Murrow in showing McCarthy for the demagogue that he was, and McCarthy’s eventual censure by the Senate. Although some young readers may have difficulty following the ins and outs of the political process and keeping all the names and relationships of the characters straight, all will be very well repaid for sticking with The Rise and Fall of Senator Joe McCarthy to the end. For this is a book that shows, at the same time, how deeply flawed the American political process can be, and how it can manage – even at a time of grave national difficulty – to take a self-correcting course. McCarthy ruined a great many lives and careers, and there is no minimizing the pain he caused in so many ways large and small. But in the end, it did not require extra-legal methods like McCarthy’s own to pull him down – all that was needed was the rule of law, a fair-sized helping of political courage, and exposure through the work of some dedicated journalists. And all these, to a greater extent or a lesser, remain crucial to rooting out those who would succeed McCarthy even today.

(++++) MAKING COLLEGE (ALMOST) AFFORDABLE

Paying for College without Going Broke, 2010 Edition. By Kalman A. Chany with Geoff Martz. Princeton Review/Random House. $20.

      College costs outpace inflation, year after year, and this year have risen substantially even though consumer prices have actually declined. College costs frequently outpace gains in families’ income, and this year many families have no income gains at all. With the recession’s effects still being felt by so many people – including the unemployed – the ever-higher cost of higher education is a bigger burden now than ever. To the rescue (more or less) comes the new edition of Paying for College without Going Broke, the commonsense guide to maximizing aid and minimizing (to the extent possible) the financial stress of sending a child to college – or financing your education yourself, if that is what you need to do.

      It would be naïve in the extreme to say that Kalman Chany’s plainspoken book will actually make college costs bearable for everyone. Not so – which is why it is only “more or less” a rescue. But it would be unfair, not to mention unrealistic, to expect Chany to come up with financing approaches that will work for everyone. In truth, the only guaranteed way to afford college is to start saving a considerable amount of money when a baby is born, factor in the annual inflation in college costs for every year of the child’s life, and continue socking money away until he or she graduates from high school. This is doable in some cases, but not in the vast majority – there simply isn’t that much money available for education-targeted saving in most families’ budgets.

      Essentially, what Chany – an independent counselor on college financial aid since 1982 – does is approach college financing as a kind of chess game. It is not enough to follow the rules – you have to follow them with enough creativity to maximize your chance of obtaining the financing you need. Some aspects of Chany’s recommendations have to do with pre-college education. For example, students should take as many AP courses as possible, prepare carefully for AP exams, and apply to colleges that award course credits for success on those tests. This puts students ahead in terms of requirements for graduation – lowering the cost of getting there. An alternative approach is to attend a community college for two years – at comparatively low cost – and then transfer to a four-year school and graduate from it. This keeps the high-cost element of college to two years instead of four.

      Furthermore, Chany recommends that students apply to colleges whose admissions criteria they exceed. Colleges are more willing to spend money to attract students who will raise the perceived academic value of the school. This means finding out the average SAT or ACT score for each college and applying to ones where the average is well below yours.

      Another element of Chany’s approach is to be realistic about a student’s post-college earnings power in terms of debt taken on during school. That simply means not to load down a student with loans that are likely to be a severe long-term burden because of the pay scale of the career that he or she is likely to choose.

      In addition to these strategic thoughts, Chany offers considerable detail about the process of applying for aid – which is anything but straightforward. Aid is not necessarily limited by current income – and even high-income people should apply in case of a job loss or other economic reversal. Pricey schools are not off-limits for students who have solid academic credentials – in fact, many of them are allocating extra funds precisely because they want to admit more high-achieving students from lower socioeconomic backgrounds. And then there are the nuts-and-bolts recommendations, such as knowing deadlines for forms, which vary not only by form but also by college; following forms’ instructions carefully so you do not (for example) leave a line blank or omit a signature; doing a draft of your income tax early so you can meet application deadlines – and being prepared to send in your actual return when it is finished, so the college can compare it with your estimate; applying for aid as early as possible, and definitely before being accepted – by acceptance time, all the aid may have been allocated; planning to maximize education-related tax benefits in addition to obtaining aid; and a great deal more.

      Paying for College without Going Broke is not easy reading, despite its straightforward style – there is just so much territory to cover that it is easy to feel overwhelmed by the complexity of the process. And it is complex, without a doubt. But college is one of the biggest expenses of a student’s or family’s life, and it is worth investing some time in the financing issues in order to keep the cost as manageable as possible. The $20 that Paying for College without Going Broke costs is repaid many times over by the help and information offered throughout the book.

(++++) NOT YOUR ORDINARY STOCKING STUFFERS

Edward Gorey’s Children 3x5” Notepad. Pomegranate. $4.95.

The Fantod Pack by Edward Gorey. Pomegranate. $9.95.

Edward Gorey Bookmark Set. Pomegranate. $10.95.

Edward Gorey Magnets: The Creature Regarded Them Balefully; Chef Cat. Pomegranate. $3.50 each.

B. Kliban Magnets: Hula Cat; Here, There. Pomegranate. $3.50.

B. Kliban Rowing Cats Bookmark. Pomegranate. $1.95.

     There is nothing cuter and sweeter than the sugar-plums-and-smiles spectacle of families taking down their Christmas stockings and finding all sorts of adorable little goodies in them. If you’d like to do something about that, try these stocking stuffers this year. They’re wonderfully made, artistically designed and just as likely to bring cries of “ugh!” as ones of “wow!” But the recipients will know you meant well. Maybe.

     Really, Christmas is a perfect time to put such traditions as childhood and cartooning in proper perspective, which means to shake things up a little (hey, kids do that all the time, and so do the best cartoonists). Pomegranate has a whole line of innocent-seeming little gift items from some of the best slightly askew cartoonists of the 20^th century, most notably Edward Gorey and B. Kliban. Gorey’s renditions of serious children in a vaguely Victorian or Edwardian age adorn a wonderful little 80-sheet notepad that fits neatly into a stocking and can be used by kids to send thank-you notes to family members – thereby accomplishing the dual goal of being polite and getting rid of the vaguely disturbing 80 sheets as quickly as possible without seeming ungracious. Besides – in all (or at least some) seriousness – the drawings really are attractive in their offbeat way, and there is none of the trademark Gorey mayhem here (although, to be sure, most of his mayhem occurs offstage, as it were).

     For older kids, or adults with a skewed sense of the world – especially anyone interested in classic tarot – Gorey’s The Fantod Pack makes a wonderful little gift that perfectly captures the artist’s unsettling whimsicality. The deck’s 20 cards include Gorey-invented archetypes such as the Yellow Bird and the Limb, and the pack contains a booklet with readings relating to each image – everything being just as cryptic and perhaps even more disturbing than the readings from an ordinary tarot deck. Whether The Fantod Pack was inspired by tarot cards or intended to parody them can be left for the recipient to decide. Either way, it’s in the cards.

     Gorey is in the books, too. Pomegranate makes a wonderful series of bookmarks featuring Gorey’s art and sold for $1.95 each, but if you are looking for something a bit more generous and even more fun than a single bookmark, consider the Edward Gorey Bookmark Set, which contains 10 of them for less than the cost of six individual ones. Five are black-and-white drawings from Gorey’s illustrations for T.S. Eliot’s Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats, and they are a delight – from Bustopher Jones about to be served an elegant meal to The Old Gumbie Cat starting to conduct “Frivolitätenmusik.” Of the other five bookmarks, two – showing some of Gorey’s drawings of children – are in color, and the remaining three are as elaborate and mysterious as one would expect Gorey to be.

     “Elaborate and mysterious” also describes Gorey’s unsettling and odd drawing called The Creature Regarded Them Balefully, available as a 2x3” refrigerator magnet – large enough to pick out plenty of Gorey’s elaborate detail. The magnet shows the unidentifiable seaweed-like creature at the left, just climbing onto a pier from water that one imagines to be somewhat unhealthful, while three puzzled children – one carrying a bucket – stare at it from the right. At least the kids seem to be puzzled – as so often in his work, Gorey does not show their eyes or facial expressions, leaving it to viewers to figure out just what is going on, and what happens next….

     Gorey did get lighthearted now and then, as in his Chef Cat drawing, another refrigerator magnet that can zip out of your stocking to adorn your very own kitchen. The black-and-white cat in ballet shoes, dancing while holding a long spoon and a bowl of who-knows-what, is strictly for fun. But of course Gorey was not especially known for cats, although he often drew them. B. Kliban, on the other hand, was irremediably feline in inclination, and a refrigerator magnet with one of his cats makes a wonderful contrast with Gorey’s magnet. Hula Cat is one of Kliban’s best-known drawings, showing (in full color) a cat in a grass skirt and lei dancing while also staring at a vaguely butterfly-like flying insect – the contrast between the body motion and eye motion being especially amusing. Here, There is amusing in a different way, and oddly thought-provoking. No cats here – this drawing simply shows a person walking on a well-worn path from a big sign saying “Here” and a smaller, arrow-shaped one saying “There.” That is, the person is walking from “Here” to “There.” But at the other end of the short path, the same two signs appear – and since the path is bare but surrounded by grass, one has to assume that the person has been walking here and there, here and there, for a very long time indeed…..

     This sort of “thinking” humor is a Kliban specialty, and is combined with his frequent renditions of cats in a delightful full-color bookmark. Everyone knows that you can’t herd cats. According to this Kliban drawing, they can’t cooperate even when rowing a boat: the six portly felines are looking in six different directions and doing six different things with their oars – including being distracted by two flying fish whizzing though the air above them. But what really makes this drawing pointed is what appears at the far left: a tiny outrigger, much smaller than the cats’, being rowed speedily along by six rats working in apparently perfect unison. And the point is….well, who needs a point? The gift-giving point is that there are some wonderful stocking stuffers out there that may not be all sweetness and light, but for that very reason are likely to endure and provide enjoyment well after the Christmas season. So by all means stuff a stocking a bit strangely this year!