Tuesday, September 19, 2017
Spent time jotting notes on La Stravaganza, a novel I must revise and send out. It's all about Vivaldi. The trick has been to find a way to inject him into novel immediately. In a sometimes brutal and cruel world where want and need are in such high demand and the anxieties of life are so constant, it's comforting to know there are pockets of goodness available for the taking, ready to energize and brighten, ready to wash away the gunk and feel revitalized and happy. Vivaldi is one of those jewels. His music is infused with the energy of his students, the pupils he taught throughout his career, the lightness of their laugh and giggles, the cheeriness of their youth, the zest they must have had beyond their duties. Their spirit is there in his music, in his glorious concertos, in RV 564 and the Four Seasons, in his 232, 231, 242, and La Stravaganza. You can't listen to Vivaldi without feeling an urgent sense of happiness. You can't listen to his music without being transported to another era long vanished. He defines Venice in the 18th century. Even Bach adored his music. He wrote with such passion, with such originality, with such playfulness and compelling nuance. I could go on and on about Vivaldi. He is the spirit of all of us at our best. He is the happy unpredictable uncle who endlessly entertains. He is the universal sound of vibrant glee.
Spent time jotting notes on La Stravaganza, a novel I must revise and send out. It's all about Vivaldi. The trick has been to find a way to inject him into novel immediately. In a sometimes brutal and cruel world where want and need are in such high demand and the anxieties of life are so constant, it's comforting to know there are pockets of goodness available for the taking, ready to energize and brighten, ready to wash away the gunk and feel revitalized and happy. Vivaldi is one of those jewels. His music is infused with the energy of his students, the pupils he taught throughout his career, the lightness of their laugh and giggles, the cheeriness of their youth, the zest they must have had beyond their duties. Their spirit is there in his music, in his glorious concertos, in RV 564 and the Four Seasons, in his 232, 231, 242, and La Stravaganza. You can't listen to Vivaldi without feeling an urgent sense of happiness. You can't listen to his music without being transported to another era long vanished. He defines Venice in the 18th century. Even Bach adored his music. He wrote with such passion, with such originality, with such playfulness and compelling nuance. I could go on and on about Vivaldi. He is the spirit of all of us at our best. He is the happy unpredictable uncle who endlessly entertains. He is the universal sound of vibrant glee.
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