
My mother’s family was half Irish, and my memory of family gatherings is full of the same kind of gab and repartee that I find in the Aeolus chapter of “Ulysses.” The Catholic Church is never far offstage. One moment it’s the butt of scurrilous humor, and then a minute later it becomes the source of a sudden seizure of piety.
12 Comments Continue ReadingWhat impresses most about Astor Piazzolla is the extraordinary clarity of his thought. He could be brutal—just like the counterpoint exercises Nadia Boulanger assigned him —but his musical and intellectual mental processes were both profoundly absorptive and shrewdly practical. In this way he was much like his idol, Stravinsky.
5 Comments Continue ReadingHow to write a masterpiece? I haven’t a clue, but if a young composer were to ask me that question on this particular day I would unhesitatingly direct him or her to “The Perpetual Orgy” by Mario Vargas Llosa.
11 Comments Continue ReadingIn the last few weeks I read “Madame Bovary” twice—in English, which I’m passably good at. I can’t say that of any novel I’ve ever read—that I’ve wanted to go right back to page one and do it all over again. I now understand why Nabokov says you haven’t really read a book if you’ve just read it once.
6 Comments Continue Reading