The Real and the Made Up about Strads
This one is about books, and a few I’ve read recently because I’m spending even more time than usual reading and listening to books these days. For however long this quarantine/self-distancing period, I am committed to reading the music books on my shelves that have been neglected. I just finished two that center around Stradivarius violins. One historical, one fiction. Both highly entertaining and worth a read by anyone.
My quarantine book pile.
The first, Antonietta, by John Hersey, was recommended to me by my dear, non-musician friend who found it at her co-working space. She said we should read it as the start of a book club, so I bought it. I had never heard of the author, which is kind of embarrassing because he won the Pulitzer Prize in the 80s. This book, published in the early 90s and tells the story of a fictional Strad called the Antonietta.
The book is similar in premise to the movie, The Red Violin, which also follows the life of a Stradivarius through time documenting the lives of its owners. While The Red Violin is scandalous and filled with wild twists and turns and the most ridiculous stories and salacious personalities, this story is slightly more subdued. It follows the fictional violin from its creation, to the hands of W.A. Mozart and his student in Paris, to Baillot and Berlioz, to Stravinsky, Ramuz, and the fictional violinist Federovsky in Switzerland, and finally to a made-up violinist and Wall Street scandal in New York. Hersey writes each chapter in a different style; the first is prose, Mozart's section is written as letters back and forth to his father, sister, and female friends. The chapter about Baillot and Berlioz is set out in five symphony movements. It chronicles the fictional crafting of Symphonie Fantastique, Stravinsky's section is diary entries by the various characters involved, and the last is a film script.
Hersey is so knowledgeable about music and music history that after a while, you start wondering if you're reading the source material. Most people know who Berlioz is, and many violinists –I hope- know who Pierre Baillot was (if you don’t, he was a French violinist living in the 19thcentury and was on faculty at the Paris Conservatory with the famous violinists Rudolphe Kreutzer and Pierre Rode whose etudes are still studied today) but I was surprised to see him used in a work of fiction and in such a prominent way. The chapter about Stravinsky and Ramuz documents the creation of L’Histoire du Soldat as the two creators hideout in Switzerland during the Spanish Influenza epidemic of 1918 -how appropriate to be stuck inside reading this now, during the coronavirus.
I found myself double-checking facts and names, dates, and places. Then I looked Hersey up to figure out how he might know so much, so fluently about violin history. This goes beyond research for a specific project, which typically reads much more novice or pedantically. His writing speaks of such a casual and intimate knowledge of the subject matter. It is almost like talking about Kreutzer etudes you’ve played, versus trying to talk about ones you haven’t (for the record, I’ve played all of them, Ha!). Anyways, this is a snippet about Hersey:
“John Hersey was born in Tientsin, China, in 1914. He began taking violin lessons there when he was eight years old, from a White Russian émigré, who later moved to the United States and played for decades with the Boston Symphony. Hersey’s family returned to the United States in 1925.”
There is a nod to the Boston Symphony at the end of the book, although I will not give any spoilers. He also lists many of his sources at the back in the notes. Anyways, if you enjoy well-researched historical fiction about music and violins, this is a good one, if a little dry in some parts.
The second book I read was Stradivari’s Genius by Toby Faber (of the publishing family/company, Faber and Faber). This book had a similar premise but followed five violins and one cello through time. It was fascinating to read the history of several Strads, the virtuosos who played them, which dealers bought and sold them, and for how much. There are some fantastic stories about famous violinists, including Paganini – who, contrary to folklore, did not live a fantastically glamorous life. By that, I mean, he had some nasty disfiguring diseases not limited to Marfan Syndrome. You learn so much about the famous players who briefly accompanied each instrument. For instance, I had no idea that Viotti spent several years in the Wine business as a way to supplement his income. Anecdotally, Yo-Yo Ma plays the Davidoff cello, previously owned by Jacqueline DuPré, which was named for a cellist who was almost famous for not practicing. Also, don’t get me started on Vuillaume and Tarisio. The stories about the luthiers and dealers are nearly as shocking and gossip-worthy as the stories about the players.
And I find it kind of bizarre that the violin considered the pinnacle of Stradivari’s craft, the Messiah, was never played on the stages of the world. Isn’t that strange? The instrument luthiers throughout time (still to this day) try to imitate never had to prove itself onstage.
Reading these books back to back felt like the violin history class I wish I had taken in college. Sometimes the historical text was more riveting than the made-up stories.
Anyways, I’ve moved on to other musical books from my quarantine-reading list. Currently on my nightstand is The Soloist by Steve Lopez. It is eye-opening to read about Skid Row in the early 2000s but heartwarming to learn how enthusiastically the LA Phil (my employer) embraced Nathaniel Ayers. This book paints a grim story of life on the streets in Los Angeles. Still, it also brims with stories about music's unique ability to unite us through the good and the bad, no matter where you sleep at night.
I hope you and your family are safe and well during this period of self-distancing.
What are you reading?