Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Haruki Murakami (with Seiji Ozawa): Absolutely on Music

There's a clear parallel to be drawn between this book and Bill Moyers and Joseph Cambell's iconic conversation, The Power of Myth.  In each, two respected icons in their fields come together to talk, more or less casually, about a subject in which one of them is only a dabbler.  But the book under treatment here has the added benefit of an auditory layer which made it a singular experience.  Not only did Murakami and Ozawa talk at length and in depth about the nature of orchestral music, sharing marvelous personal anecdotes along the way, but Murakami did the reader the service of noting exactly where in the music they were referencing, down to the second.  This added layer absolutely predicates listening to the recordings in question as they are being discussed, including lengthy pauses where the conversants are simply enjoying the music with you.  When the music reaches a point where one of the two has a comment to offer, reading their transcript has the exact effect that was presumably intended: that of listening with them and hearing their comments in real time.  It's the equivalent of the director's commentary on a DVD track, but for Mahler's first symphony et al.  Having never been a fan of orchestral music before--anything without words has a hard time reaching me--I found a fledgling appreciation for the works mentioned here.  I am entirely likely to let it remain half-fledged, and rely on Ozawa's comments, but for the weeks that I spent with these two visionaries at least, I was a fan.

Andrew Robinson: A Stitch in Time

I've read an awful lot of books.  And as many books as I've read, I've watched even more television and movies (while every book I read makes it into this blog, only 'noteworthy' other media do so).  And for the life of me, I can't find anything in all that vast storehouse of consumed and digested media to compare this book to. Bear with me as I try.

Perhaps a good place to begin is with the source material.  We have the character of Elim Garak, a background character who, through the force of the performance, ended up becoming a central figure, and a fan favorite--including mine.  DS9 has always been my favorite sci-fi series, in spite of not being the best, and Garak is easily my favorite character.  What other character fills such a role, carving out such a healthy ledge in a ponderous fandom for her or himself?  Boba Fett? Certainly, but not by the strength of the original actor's performance.  Perhaps Captain Jack Harkness.  Let's use him for an example.

Now suppose that John Barrowman wrote a book, and not just any book, but a definitive history of the character that he brought to life.  No writer would have bothered to give Garak or Captain Jack life if the actors' performances hadn't so demanded it.  I feel safe in saying that both characters belong to the actor, more than to the writers.  Barrowman is a clever, charming, seemingly literate man.  It is not outside of the realm of possibility that he would undertake such a thing.

But now suppose that the book was good.  Not just that it satisfied and became popular among the fandom either, but that it was objectively well written, erudite, reflective, borderline postmodernist, and deeply philosophical.  Imagine, in short, that the book was written in such a way that it was impossible not to be swept up in the illusion that it was written by the character, rather than the actor behind him.  That's what you have here.  This book was not written by Robinson; it was written by Garak.  And the only logical conclusion is that Andrew Robinson is, in fact, a genetically altered Cardassian spy, brilliantly hiding in plain sight.