2021 #4: Enlightenment Orpheus (Vanessa Agnew)

 

Enlightenment Orpheus: The Power of Music in Other Worlds by Vanessa Agnew
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is basically *almost* five stars for me. It is a feat when a book you are reading purely for information/learning, ropes you into a topic you didn't know you cared about. The book is quite the undertaking as it takes the topic of eighteenth-century Orphic discourse and applies it to historiography and reception. The first chapter, "Argonaut Orpheus" focuses on Charles Burney's travels through Europe -- particularly Germany-- but also brilliantly weaves in Cook's voyages to Polynesia to make a larger point about how ideas regarding music's agency were greatly impacted by these travels. The second chapter, "Music's Empire" highlights the political implications, but also how the political and economic thoughts of the Enlightenment shaped theories of monogenesis (among others), as well as establishing hierarchies of instrumentation and texture in Western musical discourse. I found the third chapter, "Anti-Orpheus" slightly less compelling, but I think this was more because I was reading with an end-goal in mind, and this chapter was less relevant to that goal. I will go back and re-read this at some point for leisure, because I'm sure I will get even more out of it. Although it was published in 2008, I think the book resonates even more now, as we encounter some of the same patterns and myth-making while we reckon with the deficiencies of the canon and the hegemonic narratives that surround it.

2021 #3: The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake (Bender)

 

The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I likely would have given this five stars, but the ending was a bit of a let-down. It just seemed too abrupt, too much of an important realization that is just left there, hanging. Aside from that, however, this is a wonderful -- if somewhat heartbreaking--story. Bender mixes the surreal with the all-too-real in a very genuine and compelling way. Having grown up in Los Angeles, the familiar surroundings made the more surreal elements seem like the surprise tang from the cornichons in Rose's paté sandwich -- bright contrast, but supposed to be there.

It can be read as a quirky surrealist tale, but I think that misses the important layer and the lessons about our human-ness. In any group of people, we can almost count on someone who tastes the nuances of life, someone who lives a life of avoidance in fear of the unknown, and those who wish to blend in with the scenery. They are all there, and Bender reminds us of our own potential to taste, to avoid, and to be absorbed.