chapter 10 - notes and questions 1

[Fiona Shnapple]

But these family debates are not as simple as you suggest here,
Thomas. In fact, they are far more complex and subtle than than the
"intellectual" one in GR. Every bit of the opera debate bleeds into
the heart of Maxine's turning from her parent's generation, and her
struggle with it, and its repercussions.

"Fortunately it only skipped a generation, and both Ziggy and Otis
have turned into reliable opera dates  for their grandparents..."

Fortunate? For the grandparents, for the kids. Maxine could not be
made a fan. Why not? Why were the boys turned? Why wasn't she? And if
their is fortune in the turning of the boys, their is an implicit bad
fortune in Maxine's turn. Right? She is without a date, despite her
mother's efforts to turn her out to a litigation lawyer and an ob-gyn.


>
> p. 98: Ziggy likes Verdi, Otis Puccini, "neither of them caring that much
> for Wagner."
>
> Which reminds me of the discussion between Gustav and "Säure" Bummer in GR
> about the relative merits of Rossini and Beethoven. I always thought the
> (implied, the pedant in me says) author was on Rossini's side, but rereading
> the passage I realise that I may have been mistaken. And certainly Beethoven
> is not Wagner, or Wager is no Beethoven. In any case, rereading it, the
> prose here is so wonderful that I begin to wonder whether the detractors of
> BE might perhaps have a point:
>
>
> -- Gustav is a composer. For months he has been carrying on a raging debate
> with Säure over who is better, Beethoven or Rossini. Säure is for Rossini.
> “I’m not so much for Beethoven qua Beethoven,” Gustav argues, “but as he
> represents the German dialectic, the incorporation of more and more notes
> into the scale, culminating with dodecaphonic democracy, where all notes get
> an equal hearing, Beethoven was one of the architects of musical freedom—he
> submitted to the demands of history, despite his deafness. While Rossini was
> retiring at the age of 36, womanizing and getting fat, Beethoven was living
> a life filled with tragedy and grandeur.”
>
> “So?” is Säure’s customary answer to that one. “Which would you rather do?
> The point is,” cutting off Gustav’s usually indignant scream, “a person
> feels good listening to Rossini. All you feel like listening to Beethoven is
> going out and invading Poland. Ode to Joy indeed. The man didn’t even have a
> sense of humor. I tell you,” shaking his skinny old fist, “there is more of
> the Sublime in the snare-drum part to La Gazza Ladra than in the whole Ninth
> Symphony. With Rossini, the whole point is that lovers always get together,
> isolation is overcome, and like it or not that is the one great contripetal
> movement of the World. Through the machieries of greed, pettiness, and the
> abuse of power, love occurs. All the shit is transmuted to gold. The walls
> are breached, the balconies are scaled—listen!” It was a night in early May,
> and the final bombardment of Berlin was in progress. Säure had to shout his
> head off. “The Italian girl is in Algiers, the Barber’s in the crockery, the
> magpie’s stealing everything in singht! The World is rushing together….” --
>
> Then Webern dies, and I could quote on and on, but back to BE...
-
Pynchon-l / http://www.waste.org/mail/?list=pynchon-l