Book Review
Sep. 28th, 2004 12:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kenjariMemoirs
by Hector Berlioz
Berlioz compiled and wrote this book in the 1850s and 1860s before his final decline and death. Some of it he wrote fresh, but the bulk of it is assembled from memoirs and letters he wrote earlier in his life.
Berlioz is not a composer I am overly familiar with, but I got this book for 50 cents at a tag sale, which I figured was a good deal. Berlioz was thoroughly a product of nineteenth century romanticism, at least as far as his personality goes. He was prone to excessive emotion and sentimentality and fully subscribed to the idea of art as a quasi-religion and the worship of the beautiful. Berlioz also subscribes to the romantic notions of the artist as a uniquely favored great individual, sometimes to the point of incredible conceit when applying it to himself. For example, in the first section of the book, he marvels that his birth was not heralded by wondrous omens such a comets or two-headed calfs. I actually found that very funny. At other displays of similar egotism, I just wanted to tell hector to get over himself.
However, I can forgive Berlioz his occasional egotism because he did, in fact, have a rather difficult life. He was incredibly under-appreciated in his native France - his music was not understood and several influential people took a severe and mostly unfounded dislike to him. He had to surmount enormous obstacles in order to get his music heard and often took on large personal debts in doing so. His personal life also provided him with few emotional or domestic rewards. And despite all of this, he kept on pursuing music and never abandoned his high standards for both compostion and performance.
Berlioz is never boring, either. His memoirs provide a rich and vibrant picture of nineteenth century musical life, both the good and the bad. His writing is full of life, and leaves you feeling as if you really know him not just as a musician but also as a person.
by Hector Berlioz
Berlioz compiled and wrote this book in the 1850s and 1860s before his final decline and death. Some of it he wrote fresh, but the bulk of it is assembled from memoirs and letters he wrote earlier in his life.
Berlioz is not a composer I am overly familiar with, but I got this book for 50 cents at a tag sale, which I figured was a good deal. Berlioz was thoroughly a product of nineteenth century romanticism, at least as far as his personality goes. He was prone to excessive emotion and sentimentality and fully subscribed to the idea of art as a quasi-religion and the worship of the beautiful. Berlioz also subscribes to the romantic notions of the artist as a uniquely favored great individual, sometimes to the point of incredible conceit when applying it to himself. For example, in the first section of the book, he marvels that his birth was not heralded by wondrous omens such a comets or two-headed calfs. I actually found that very funny. At other displays of similar egotism, I just wanted to tell hector to get over himself.
However, I can forgive Berlioz his occasional egotism because he did, in fact, have a rather difficult life. He was incredibly under-appreciated in his native France - his music was not understood and several influential people took a severe and mostly unfounded dislike to him. He had to surmount enormous obstacles in order to get his music heard and often took on large personal debts in doing so. His personal life also provided him with few emotional or domestic rewards. And despite all of this, he kept on pursuing music and never abandoned his high standards for both compostion and performance.
Berlioz is never boring, either. His memoirs provide a rich and vibrant picture of nineteenth century musical life, both the good and the bad. His writing is full of life, and leaves you feeling as if you really know him not just as a musician but also as a person.
