Contrappasto captures so much about families, the contemporary art world, creativity, friendship, and love. It captures it all beautifully with prose to die for. I know these characters better than almost anyone else.
Cricket is just a shy kid who likes drawing when he first meets Olympia. She's older, more confident; she bullies him into some light vandalism and instantly he's in love. When they're together, they talk about their futures, how they're going to travel the world, the beauty and rapture of art.
Then those futures start to arrive in unexpected ways, the years and decades pile up between them, the art world seduces and disappoints and frustrates them. And they have to figure out, again and again, what it is to be an artist, and who and what to love.
Grounded in one famous oratorio by Handel, "The Messiah," this book draws in an astonishing range of historical characters and events, many of which have never been connected before. The research is impeccable but the author wears his learning lightly. Masterful history-telling, as compelling as any novel.
Every Valley is a glittering narrative history of intertwined lives that tells the story behind one of the greatest pieces of music ever written, Handel's Messiah.
'A delicious history of music, power, love, genius, royalty and adventure. Unforgettable.' SIMON SEBAG MONTEFIORE
London - Dublin, 1741-42. An actress mired in scandal plans her escape from an abusive husband. A penniless sea captain sets out to rescue the city's abandoned infants. An African Muslim and former captive in the colonies becomes a celebrity. A grieving political dissident seeks release from his torment. And a great composer to kings - George Frideric Handel…
Pynchon can be a challenge, but this one was about as accessible as he gets. No one's mind works the way he does, and his verbal cleverness is in a league of its own. I love the way he captured the atmosphere of the Prohibition era in Milwaukee, the snappy dialogue of the characters, and then expands the scene to pre-World War II Europe, when all sorts of ugly stuff is taking shape.
The new novel from Thomas PynchonMilwaukee 1932, the Great Depression going full blast, repeal of Prohibition just around the corner, Al Capone in the federal pen, the private investigation business shifting from labor-management relations to the more domestic kind. Hicks McTaggart, a onetime strikebreaker turned private eye, thinks he's found job security until he gets sent out on what should be a routine case, locating and bringing back the heiress of a Wisconsin cheese fortune who's taken a mind to go wandering. Before he knows it, he's been shanghaied onto a transoceanic liner, ending up eventually in Hungary where there's…
Oft-referenced and frequently set to music, Psalm 137 - which begins "By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion" - has become something of a cultural touchstone for music and Christianity across the Atlantic world. It has been a top single more than once in the 20th century, from Don McLean's haunting Anglo-American folk cover to Boney M's West Indian disco mix. In Song of Exile, David Stowe uses a wide-ranging, interdisciplinary approach that combines personal interviews, historical overview, and textual analysis to demonstrate the psalm's enduring place in popular culture.
The line that begins Psalm 137 - one of the most lyrical of the Hebrew Bible - has been used since its genesis to evoke the grief and protest of exiled, displaced, or marginalized communities. Despite the psalm's popularity, little has been written about its reception during the more than 2,500 years since the Babylonian exile. Stowe locates its use in the American Revolution and the Civil Rights movement, and internationally by anti-colonial Jamaican Rastafari and immigrants from Ireland, Korea, and Cuba. He studies musical references ranging from the Melodians' Rivers of Babylon to the score in Kazakh film Tulpan.
Stowe concludes by exploring the presence and absence in modern culture of the often-ignored final words: "Happy shall he be, that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the stones." Usually excised from liturgy and forgotten by scholars, Stowe finds these words echoed in modern occurrences of genocide and ethnic cleansing, and more generally in the culture of vengeance that has existed in North America from the earliest conflicts with Native Americans.
Based on numerous interviews with musicians, theologians, and writers, Stowe reconstructs the rich and varied reception history of this widely used, yet mysterious, text.
