Voyeurism
No, I am not engaging in anything illegal. But there is something intrusive and thus highly interesting in a guilty way (peering into people's personal confidences, even with sanction from the receivers, is uncomfortable) I've been indulged in lately: reading published letters, mainly from famous composers. I started this obsession back in March with Chopin. Now I've finished Berlioz' Memoirs (it's what he wants people to know so no bad conscience here, though I'm getting to his private correspondes soon) and Mendelssohn's travelling letters.
People have been lamenting about the loss of letter writing in our time. A while ago I'd dismiss it as conservative sentimentalism. However, now I think I see their points. A letter tells a lot about the writer. It's trite but true. Chopin's letters are gossipy, random, and sometimes sentimental, but he can be a prick to his friends (just read the letters with which he orders a friend around about his apartment in Paris). Mendelssohn's are full of details like a documentary with sketches of interesting scenes he came across. He was a genius composer; he could draw; and he wrote gallantly; life is unfair! Berlioz', the ones he published, are open reports about musical life in a foreign country, so nothing very personal.
Also composer-related but not voyeuristic is my reading of Schumann's writings for his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik. I think it'll be hard to find cuter critiques than those. Schumann role played for his reviews. He made up two guys, one impulsive and passionate while the other reflective and intellectual, gave them flowery names (Florestan and Eusebius, really?) and let them banter with each other in the best serious-business way about new music. He also wrote some reviews like a story. Interesting guy. I always like him but now I like him more than ever.
People have been lamenting about the loss of letter writing in our time. A while ago I'd dismiss it as conservative sentimentalism. However, now I think I see their points. A letter tells a lot about the writer. It's trite but true. Chopin's letters are gossipy, random, and sometimes sentimental, but he can be a prick to his friends (just read the letters with which he orders a friend around about his apartment in Paris). Mendelssohn's are full of details like a documentary with sketches of interesting scenes he came across. He was a genius composer; he could draw; and he wrote gallantly; life is unfair! Berlioz', the ones he published, are open reports about musical life in a foreign country, so nothing very personal.
Also composer-related but not voyeuristic is my reading of Schumann's writings for his Neue Zeitschrift für Musik. I think it'll be hard to find cuter critiques than those. Schumann role played for his reviews. He made up two guys, one impulsive and passionate while the other reflective and intellectual, gave them flowery names (Florestan and Eusebius, really?) and let them banter with each other in the best serious-business way about new music. He also wrote some reviews like a story. Interesting guy. I always like him but now I like him more than ever.