Emmy Destinn - Prima Voce compilation

Fascinating time capsule that transports the listener straight into 1910s New York, time of Enrico Caruso, "Titanic" and first celebrated superstars of  Metropolitan Opera, the era of corseted ladies like Edith Wharton in huge, embellished hats, "The House of Mirth" and "The Age of Innocence", the formal times that actually preceded (and provoked) later abandon of 1920s. Czech prima donna Ema Destinnová is now perceived as one of the legendary and revered ancestors of future operatic artists, kind of beginning of a family tree that will continue to grow to present days but in fact, Destinn and her contemporaries were just continuing already centuries strong operatic tradition that found very strong response in newly built opera houses of new world. Just like Caruso, Nellie Melba, Pol Plançon or Irish tenor John McCormack, Destinn was imported from respected opera houses around Europe (in modern world, we would call these people immigrants) and you can bet that Metropolitan managers would hand pick only the most respected artists who had already left a mark in places like Bayreuth,  Berlin Court Opera and Covent Garden's Royal Opera House. 

Lovingly restored and presented here by Nimbus Prima Voce company, we have chance to hear art of Emmy Destinn as preserved on records made during some fourteen years that roughly match her rise on the top of international fame. It is a huge, powerful voice, heroic instrument that needs (or probably knows) no artificial electronic gadgetry as microphones in order to blow the audiences away, even in far away theatre balconies. Not much of subtlety or pianissimo, as people crowded to hear Destinn ramming her way trough mammoth orchestrations of operas by Richard Wagner and Richard Strauss with full blast - and she apparently gave them what they came for, that massive voice effortlessly soaring trough "Samson Et Dalila", "Tosca" and most memorably "La Gioconda" where her 1914. recording of "Suicidio" finds her at absolute peak of vocal powers and its truly a version to remember, cherish and idolise forever. Strangely enough, this is also a time of great political turbulence's in the world, when Destinn herself got imprisoned during WW1 in her homeland for connections with underground resistance groups and current accepted opinion has it that after the war Destinn was never the same - if you hear her gentle take of "Moon Song" from "Russalka" by Antonin Dvořák or "Cradle Song" by Bedrich Smetana that come towards the end of this compilation and were recorded when Destinn supposedly already lost it, it is clear that in her forties singer actually finally achieved tenderness that replaced steely power of earlier recordings. These later recordings are by far more lovable and affectionate, in fact towards the final note of "Cradle Song" here it is, we can actually hear lovely, soft and heartfelt pianissimo. 

Claudia Muzio - Prima Voce compilation

Muzio might be little forgotten today but to pre-WW2 generation she was absolute Goddess and I even recall reading how Maria Callas gushed excitedly that as a teenager she used to spend evenings glued to the radio, listening her beloved idol. The connection is not accidental as these recordings show - older singer was theatrical, fierce and extremely versatile, capable of going the full blast and than suddenly toning it down to tender pianissimo. Like Callas, she also seems to had uneasy relationship with possessive stage mother, soft spot for wrong men and eerily, both ladies died around the same age from heart failure. In a way, they might be spiritual sisters and its interesting to note that quite of few pieces recorded here found their way into Callas discography as well.

By all accounts, Claudia Muzio was already a superstar for two decades before these self produced 1930s recordings actually found her towards the end of her life, but these swan songs turned out to be not just her farewell but also the most admired and popular - in her forties at the time, the artist was at her full power and everything you hear here is actually very impressive, with impeccable repertoire raging from Pietro Mascagni, Giuseppe Verdi, Giacomo Puccini and Francesco Cilèa to Leo Delibes and Vincenzo Bellini, everything presented with utmost seriousness and drama - surprisingly, there is a tender Christmas lullaby "Ninna-Nanna Della Vergine"  also included amongst these classical heavyweights and it makes you wonder from what corner of her heart this decision came, as Muzio herself was very private person and childless at that. We don't really know much about her except that she was fascinating artist whose now ancient recordings show surprisingly powerful, intense and passionate voice absolutely worth listening. As always, all the praise must be said about Nimbus Prima Voce company that takes care for this kind of repertoire and preserves memory of artist like this, who are long gone but not forgotten. Recommended for fans of Maria Callas, who might enjoy her wonderful predecessor. 

"I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by B.J. Thomas (1966)

If you can get over corny album cover, what's inside of the package is actually quite interesting as it points more at young singer's past than his future. At this point, Billy Joe Thomas was strictly speaking, country-soul artist who had idolised black stars and it shows - this kind of slow-burning, soul ballads are just you would expect from someone like Solomon Burke or Percy Sledge and what Thomas took from them was that famous sincerity and total emotional commitment to a song, which is the most poignantly and effectively presented in his cover of the title song "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" - it is a white, country Texas guy singing with a lovely, lonely wail but the spirit inside has been influenced by black soul singers. It has been recorded some 50 years ago and it still stands as magnificent achievement, one of the best cover versions I have ever heard because its so completely believable and haunting. 

Guys at Scepter Records just couldn't get over the enormous success of the hit single - recorded originally with the local Houston band The Triumphs but the rest of the musicians declined offer to join Dick Clark tour, so from than on Thomas continued as a solo act - and you can tell from a gushing liner notes than wonder "will success spoil B.j.Thomas?" and praise 24 years old modest demeanour, that they expect even bigger things from him. It would have been better had they focused more on cohesion of album - as long as young singer has something to sink his teeth into (majority of A side) its obvious that he has a natural, Gods-given talent for tortured, soulful ballads but unfortunately B side brims with generic upbeat 1960s material (courtesy of composer Mark Charron) with titles like "Wendy", "Terri" and "Maria" that sound like countryside relatives of "Needles and Pins" and have absolutely nothing in common with his biggest strength, tender intimacy of melancholy ballads. Have they planned this differently and gave him collection of country-soul material where he could really pour his heart out, the album wouldn't sound so disjointed. Included are faithful covers of "It's Not Unusual" by Tom Jones, "Midnight Hour" by Wilson Pickett, another Hank Williams tune and even very pretty Gerry Goffin/Carole King hit "Hey Girl" - than you hear something as brilliant as gentle country ballad "The Titles Tell" (even undercooked "I Wonder" has its moments) and wonder why the whole album was not built around such obvious idea, it could have been great country-soul album. Nothing wrong with Thomas of course, he is perfectly fine singer and just needs understanding producers with a different vision - this is why his future work with Chips Moman will sound so ebullient, energised and inspired. 

"Turtle Moon" by Alice Hoffman

OK I think that perhaps I might had enough of Alice Hoffman for some time - for whatever reason, I gulped five of her novels in a row and although she is gifted, warm, entertaining and perceptive author, the obvious similarity between her work started to feel just a bit tiring. There's absolutely no doubt that in the future I will return to the rest of her books and it might be with a great pleasure, but its better to move on before this relationship turns completely sour. As I already noted earlier, Hoffman operates in a certain comfort zone (women, mothers, daughters, kitchen, cooking, dogs, lusty men, dangerous men, occasional magic) which of course its not bad in itself - it is her own style, after all and we love her for that - but at this point I kind of lost the excitement about her books and need to move on to something completely different.

It starts very good - Hoffman's prose is delightful, witty and completely seductive. Take for instance this example: "Charles Verity swore he would live forever. Every night he drank a bitter tea made from the bark of the paradise tree to ensure his good health, but as it turned out he was eaten by an alligator up by the pond where the municipal golf course was later built." How delightful and what a quirky sense of humour! There is also a typically Hoffmanesque long-winded descriptions of nature, mothers, daughters, dogs and even relatively suspenseful plot that appears as lifted from a 1955. Robert Mitchum movie "The Night of the Hunter" (with a good hearted old lady collecting orphans all over the place). Somewhere halfway trough, "Turtle Moon" suddenly loses the focus and the main female character succumbs to very typical Hoffman trait, metamorphosing into sex crazed zombie who completely forgets what exactly she was supposed to do (and in all honesty, why would she care, as she never did previously). This is something Hoffman often does, creating heroines who get so swept into thunderous passion that they stop eating, washing, living, breathing. Oh-my-teenage-son-is-missing-and-perhaps-he's-dead-but-never-mind-here-is-a-nice-sexy-police-detective. Coming straight from "Practical Magic", "Here on Earth" and "The Probable Future", this is the fourth Alice Hoffman novel that has this intriguing premise and no amount of elaborate nature descriptions can disguise it. It actually gets amusing after a while. 

"The Probable Future" by Alice Hoffman

"The Museum of Extraordinary Things" set me on a completely unexpected and unplanned journey - introduction to Alice Hoffman. Strangely enough, that particular novel could hardly be described as amongst my favourites - way too many dark & disturbing imagery - but there is something irresistible about the way Hoffman lulls the reader in her own, particular world and she does surprise me every now and than with the affectionate and compassionate insight into human soul, some of her sentences and thoughts are genuinely affecting. So before I knew what hit me, I started doing something that I haven't done in decades - I actually started reading her novels in a row, one after another. "The Museum of Extraordinary Things", "Practical Magic", "Here on Earth" and now "The Probable Future". Last time I felt like this was way back in the high school when for some reason or another I developed passion for Émile Zola and after a while felt as he became old friend whose prose somehow seemed warm and familiar. This is how at the moment I feel about Alice Hoffman - you might say I'm right in the middle of literary infatuation - even though I am perfectly aware that none of her novels so far was actually five star masterpiece but she has that beautifully comforting little world full of nature, women, dogs and magic where I feel perfectly at home and although yes, its true, there is a certain similarity between her works, at this point it just delights me completely and I can hardly wait to finish my day's work to snuggle comfortably with another A.H. novel.

According to my diaries, I have actually read "The Probable Future" long, long time ago and noted how much I enjoyed it. But that was more than two decades ago and now I don't remember anything anymore, except the impression that I liked it and rough idea about the plot, which thankfully I don't recognise at all and in fact feels like I am reading it for the very first time (is this how its going to be? Am I destined to re-read everything because my brain will become like a Swiss cheese?). It looks and feels like a very typical Hoffman, since right now I can tell she has a comfort zone with a small town, eccentric families (always strong women), usually some moody teenagers, lovable dogs and dangerous men. In Alice Hoffman world men = sex = danger. If you have read few of her novels, there is psychologically intriguing common thread somewhere in there that some psychoanalyst might find fascinating, but I chose to take it lightly and just note it with amusement - mothers, daughters, scoundrel husbands, kitchen, adorable dogs, magic. Fine by me. It is a wonderfully sweet and comforting literature that guarantees to put a smile on your face and her trademark out of the blue beautiful sentences never fail to surprise and thrill me. 

In "The Probable Future" Hoffman is again in her familiar territory - little town with picturesque, lovable characters, family of strong women (descending from a long line of Sparrow women with their supernatural powers), lovers, dogs, cooking recipes, a magic that appears so natural that nobody even pays attention, a bit of thriller thrown somewhere in there, but nothing really scary or disturbing, Hoffman is intentionally more concerned about humanity and interactions between people. Almost everybody is at first paired with a wrong person, until the right combination takes place naturally. Probably the most intriguing is the carefully camouflaged statement that every woman in the family, from Rebecca Sparrow onwards, had a hard time with town's male authority who openly opposed any female independence - the easiest way to punish them was to outcast these women as witches, because women who can't be controlled were perceived as dangerous. That the latest of Sparrow women brings piece and harmony to town comes as long awaited and deserved truce. 

"Here on Earth" by Alice Hoffman

Not sure what exactly I think about the idea of living author using plot from 150 year old classic, though premise actually sound intriguing - what would happen if "Wuthering Heights" main characters had opportunity to actually live together? We all remember Catherine and Heathcliff the way they were immortalized in Emily Brontë's unforgettable, dark and brooding novel but large part of their tragedy were obstacles that kept them apart - Alice Hoffman took difficult task to update this story for a modern times and reshape it as cautionary tale about obsession, violence and abusive relationship. No wonder it ended up recommended on Oprah's list as it inspires all sorts of discussions, particularly about where is the tipping point that makes a person break away from invisible cage. And how much right we as outsiders have to intrude into another person's private lives, even with the best of intentions.

Too reverential to Brontë to actually throw in some of her trademark magic realism, Hoffman uses famous literary ancestor only as a frame - wild, orphaned boy madly in love in his benefactor's beautiful daughter - but the rest of the story is completely hers. From than on, she weaves original story set in New England and since the main characters have to closely follow archetypal Catherine/Heathcliff couple, they don't really have logic or reasons - they are here to burn in a pyre, ignoring the world around them, going on without sleep, food or even another human contact. Perhaps the reason why Hoffman is much more successful with the whole palette of other, supporting characters is because they were her own creation and not limited by original literary model - almost everybody else is far more human, sympathetic or comprehensible in their actions and behaviours than main characters who suffer from being one-dimensional. Even with the best intentions, we can't really understand modern day Catherine/Heathcliff because they are not real people but symbols of self-destructive relationship - down to denial when it comes to facing violence that inevitably follows ("yes he can be dangerous but he is actually very emotional and it was me who provoked him, I deserve it") - but when we move on towards the other citizens of picturesque Jenkintown, description of them is much more believable and they are lovely. I have already noticed something about Alice Hoffman novels, a curious trait that I really enjoy her less prominent characters far more than the main ones. Worth praise for daring to give a new twist to a classic literary masterpiece, it is a curious homage that just might appeal to readers who recognize these kinds of situations.

St. John's Cathedral, Antigua

So, Caribbean again.

For the very first time in my life I was actually glad to finally get over with that vacation because winter in Croatia was so unpleasantly cold that at certain point I even started to feel sorry for myself. Not that I forgot what winters could be like, after all I was born and raised in Zagreb so naturally four seasons are nothing new to me - I even treasure some of the winter moments like being inside next to the warm fire while snow is falling outside, or the first snow, the sound of it under your boots and comfort of being cocooned inside  with a hot tea (mulled wine?) but this time winter was just awful and there was nothing magical or romantic about it. Frost, mud, frozen water pipes and capricious chimney that sputters the soot back inside all over the house, instead of taking it outside. Ice cold pillows. Cold feet, cold hands, cold nose. The temperature occasionally fell down to -17 so with all this being said, I was actually relieved when the call came to get back. And how! Back to wonderfully sunny Florida where I stood up in short sleeves, soaking in all the sun and genuinely excited to be back - even though its Caribbean, which usually I considered boring.

The very first time I visited Caribbean was back in 2004. and it was exciting to see it with fresh eyes. Very soon the novelty somehow evaporated because in all honesty, the islands do look very much alike. Its wonderful escape from the winter and true marvel that one can just pack up and leave cold behind & enjoy the warmth of sun beaches, palm trees and cocktails but really, the places are hard to distinguish one from another - once you visited few ports it all blurs into procession of restaurants, souvenir shops and tiresome advertisements for jewelry, watches, jewelry, watches and some more jewelry. And casino. And Tequila. Or Rum. There is hardly anything historical to see and if there was, locals made sure they erased it and built a shopping mall on its place. As I noted above, I know it all very well but was so relieved to escape the winter that this time it didn't matter - the funny thing is that I actually very rarely recognize these places (in my head they are all very much same place) until I step outside and than I say to myself "of course, silly me, I was here before". Unless its something truly memorable like Aruba or beautiful, colorful Curaçao. 

I do remember Antigua and have photos to prove that more a decade ago I had visited this place. But actually the main reason to go for a walk outside today was the idea of seeing again that strange old church towering above the little touristy town - long ago I remember it like from a dream that the church interior was all in carved wood, very strange almost spooky atmosphere of ancient times and old cemetery outside. It all felt very old, neglected and beautiful. So off I went this morning trough town of St. John's, trying to avoid tourist traps, jewelry shops, shopping malls and countless banks - all colorful, gaudy and typical Caribbean - until I faced the cathedral, alas, closed for renovation. And poor dear old cathedral really seems to have fallen completely into sad neglect. It was already in sad state when I first saw it some thirteen years ago but back than there was some beautiful mystery about it, now it was clear that place is slowly vanishing - the church building itself (surrounded with not very encouraging scaffolding) looks like it will fall to pieces any moment and the wonderful, old cemetery with gravestones from 1780s (with names of Irish settlers) was full of beer cans, garbage and occasional local loiterer slept in the shadows. I saw absolutely nobody working on a cathedral, even though scaffolding was around. What a sad end for a beautiful old cathedral that once must have been pride for first European settlers who worshipped here and thought this is their temple of faith and civilization. Even just glancing at the town of St. John's its clear this is not exactly happy place to live - it could be if you don't need anything except sun in the morning and fish for dinner - and frosty faces of locals clearly show how much they depend on tourism for survival, so their priorities are obviously different, they probably think everything would be different if only little St. John's could have all the glitz of say, Aruba with its nightclubs, casinos and shining lights. But in reality, all that commercialism, materialism and consumerism is very superficial outlook on life, it just creates more stress and frustrations. You don't see happy faces around St. John's, just locals being all stressed out with several big cruise ships in the port and its all about quick grab, hey mister do you want tour around the island, eat, drink, give me your credit card. And all awhile, that beautiful old cathedral is slowly crumbling to pieces, cemetery around her turning to dust and nobody could care less. I would personally gladly give some charity for renovation of it, because I think its important and would make me feel good but there was not a soul around the place, except few disappointed tourists who walked to see it all dying away. I really wonder do locals understand that ancient cathedral is far more precious than any of the silly shops they dangle in front of tourists - shops are absolutely identical all over Caribbean but this cathedral is unique. It breaks my heart to see it so neglected.

 and this is how I remember it from inside

"Happy Man" by B.J.Thomas (1979)

Very pretty, mellifluous contemporary gospel album by Texas singer who never really left gospel music behind, although he broke really big into pop charts with several #1 hits but this was obviously music close to his heart. Its religious only because of lyrics and the message is actually very philosophical, in spirit of "What a Wonderful World" - love for humanity, friendship, compassion for fellow travelers, understanding and love - all wrapped in easy listening, light pop sound that with different words could easily be love songs to a girl or a lover. Change "Jesus" for "Girl" and it could have been just perfect 1970s pop music. 

As I understand, this seems to have been period when Billy Joe Thomas had some personal issues and briefly lost a direction in life, but he quickly gained back the confidence and foundation trough faith, marriage and adoption of baby. It shows in this music, because this is a statement of grown up, adult man who has something else to say instead recording just another love song - no matter what opinion about religion you might have, the message here is universal and even the old curmudgeon like me actually genuinely enjoys this. First of all, Thomas is just amazingly smooth singer and I could listen to him all day long, no matter what genre - his tenderness, honesty and warmth are sincere, this is not acting or show biz, it's kind of voice that comes from the heart. The fact that in dark times he turned back to religion (where he started, singing in a church choir) and now decided to celebrate Lord's name, well personally I have absolutely no problems with it since essential messages here are basically comforting. Or I heard too many gospel albums by Al Green so I don't find it unusual, preachy or intrusive at all. Interestingly enough, I came to this album few years ago and its just strange how it had sneaked under my skin, I never thought this would appeal to me as much. The album itself was actually very successful, with four singles on charts and it was one of five Grammy awards Thomas got for Best Inspirational Performance, so at that time he was really biggest contemporary Christian artist of the period. (His album was the very first Christian album to go platinum). I just love this. 

Josipa Lisac is 67

My all-time favourite Croatian singer Josipa Lisac turned 67 this February (precisely, on Valentine's day) and its with a great sense of surprise that this fact actually registered with me out of the blue, while I was eating my dinner: it really shows my age when my favourite pop singer is actually marching to be 70. I mean, what kind of ancient Methuselah I must be. Suddenly I felt as it is in fact me who is 67. Than again, yes, I do belong to the last century, even the last millennium since this is when I came to this world, grew up and formed whatever personality I have today. Everything that happened after I hit 40 was more or less very much the same blur of activities, while the most exciting times, years, loves and passions happened back in the last century. Dear God, I am just an ancient turtle who wasn't aware of it. 

Lisac of course performed professionally just a little longer than I am on this world - her start more or less coincide with my birth - although I actually became aware of her once I hit the puberty and since than went trough touchingly faithful phases of collecting newspaper articles, magazine covers and of course every single recording on vinyl, tape and CD (nowadays in mp3 format while I travel). It didn't met with approval at home or in the school, as back than my music idol was considered acquired taste who didn't have much appeal to mainstream audience but I couldn't care less. People were blind. To me she was beautiful and possessor of most wondrous voice I had ever heard. Her discography was always fascinating, inspiring and full of surprises as she seemed to strive for perfection and was always ready to experiment, never compromising or calculating what might be commercial - in fact, her very music persona, that highly stylised, mannered voice is in itself a powerful statement of individuality. Even as old turtle as I might be nowadays, that voice still thrills me and I know no other similar - she has been so darn unique phenomenon on Croatian scene that I simply never even considered anybody else as her competition or (sadly) successor. 

Interestingly enough, Lisac seems to have been extremely polarising audiences from the start, back in the 1960s. People either loved her passionately or couldn't stand her. This in itself is a sign of a giant amongst Lilliputians, because only strong personality can inspire such passionate reactions. It has also been one continuous aspect of her life, where from decade to decade she had to prove herself again and again, fighting the prejudices, chauvinism, critics and ignorance to the point when audience finally reluctantly realised well yes, she has been around forever. Sure, she is very celebrated nowadays and her name is in a schoolbooks next to Edith Piaf as a example of singing art, but its easy to forget that it took lots of strength and confidence to endure all the criticism trough the years. So its bittersweet that Lisac now celebrates her birthday and 50th anniversary in business with sold out concerts, like true living legend she is, while almost all of her contemporaries and critics had withered away long ago. Sometimes I regret that media is so obsessed with all that diva cellophane (outfits, hairstyles, fashion, etc) because for me Lisac is first and foremost all about the voice and so far I have not found anybody seriously analysing her music and how she found her own place inside of all those different genres, but apparently new generations of artists have been listening and future might show just how influential she might be. 

Like all the great artists, Josipa Lisac has always been ice breaker - not just as first female rock singer in the whole territory of former Yugoslavia and first person who dared the sedated audiences with flower pot hairstyles, peacock dresses and golden wigs - I must admit that she seemed to really always enjoy herself and delighted in all those elaborate costumes (geisha! witch! priestess! space ship! Christmas gift wrapped with a ribbon!) and nowadays she cultivates charming crazy lady from the attic image. For the role she has now - approaching 70 and still active - there is no regulations, standards or rule books, we simply had nobody else like her before. My guess is that she will probably continue as long as audience crowd her concerts, because music is not her profession but her mission in life. Even though she hesitantly released only two studio albums in the last two decades (!) young, cutting edge bands line up for her guest appearances and duets that inevitably turn into hits so she is truly enjoying privileged status and deservedly so. I read somewhere that if we imagine all Croatian music scene as a family dinner, Josipa Lisac would be that scandalous aunt with the most interesting stories, how wonderful. She has been great joy and inspiration in my life and I'm actually surprised how constant this has been, I mean the very first LP record I ever bought was hers, that was 36 years ago and I still swoon like teenager when I hear her voice, its just magical. 

"Practical Magic" by Alice Hoffman

"The Museum of Extraordinary Things" might have upset me with some dark, disturbing imagery but there were enough memorable sentences and thoughts between the pages of that novel that I decided that Hoffman deserves some more of my attention, so I went little back in time and checked out on her probably most popular book, in fact there is already Hollywood version of it, which I absolutely have no intention of watching as reading books gave me much more pleasure and gets my whole brain active with imagination.

At first I didn't really know what to make out of  "Practical Magic" - I probably accidentally read some chick lit in my life previously without even realising its tailored for particular female audiences, but this is the first time that I was aware of it, story being exclusively and decidedly centred on female family and their daily ups and downs. Nothing here even approached the darkness I found in "The Museum of Extraordinary Things" which in a way was good thing, because I could do with some lightheartedness for change. The story here centres around the two orphaned sisters who get adopted by witch aunts and grew in two completely opposite personalities - there is something almost fairy tale like about Sally and Gillian Owens and the way their characters and colouring so perfectly contrast each other. When life eventually sets them apart and than brings them back again, they are already grown up women with different baggage but now Sally has two daughters of her own (Antonia and Kylie) who are not only at the verge of adulthood themselves but might have inherited family witchcraft powers. Oh yes, and there is a corpse buried in the garden that refuses to stay still, disturbing everybody with some malevolent energy. Initially I was slightly disappointed because it all appeared too simple - lots of women cooking, cleaning, gossipping and talking about men. In fact, this obsession with the man as the main fulfilment of their lives kind of put me off and I almost regretted starting something so trivial, wondering what on earth possessed me to even think that I might like this kind of fluff but since I already started, I might as well finish the darn novel so I continued and at the end it turned quite delightful. Ancient witch aunts arrive to save the situation, they know exactly what they are dealing with and how to get rid of all man & ghost troubles. Family unites around the kitchen table, everybody happy. There is even a wedding, possibly two. Every girl gets a guy. Female readers delighted because everybody loves happy end, right? All my initial reservations eventually melted away because this has all been so good natured and I have spent enough time around female relatives and friends to understand something about female psyche, so towards the end I actually smiled because yes, it was entertaining though nothing like what I expected coming from "The Museum of Extraordinary Things" which bubbled over with green depravity. Just like before, every now and than Hoffman shots unexpectedly fine sentence or a thought that stopped me dead in the tracks and made me re-read it twice, this seems to be her trademark and I finished the novel in a such a positive, uplifting mood that I might even continue with some more of the same writer.

"Although she’d never believe it, those lines in Gillian’s face are the most beautiful part about her. They reveal what she’s gone through and what she’s survived and who exactly she is, deep inside."

"The Museum of Extraordinary Things" by Alice Hoffman

With the best intentions of doing otherwise, I must admit that when it comes to reading, there can simply be no strict plan - in the corner of my mind I had this brilliant idea about discovering different genres (SF) or reading a classic-per-month but in reality, there is such a joy in random choices, just like in old days of browsing the public libraries. So either though I had a perfectly clear idea about what I should read, before you know it I found myself browsing the shelves in the library at work (on a first day! someone might say I care more for books than for the job!) and voilà this book jumped at me. Now, I don't care what people say about never judge a book by its cover and the stuff like that, because in my case its just not true. I do react because of something sparkled my interest, be it colours of the book cover, design, picture, sometimes just a title or lettering, but books definitely talk to me as I browse shelves (and hopefully will continue to do so) my whole life. If there are no pictures or colours, than something about this particular cover must intrigue me to pick up the book, even if it turned just an oily fingerprint of the previous owner. So when this book jumped at me, I took it seriously (as always) as a sign, this is the one.

To my biggest surprise, it turned out I actually know the authoress Alice Hoffman though in all honesty I don't really remember anything about her novel "The Probable Future" except that I enjoyed it very much (it was something about several generations of women gifted with special powers) and could actually re-read it again to refresh my memory. She seems to have been known as perfect example of magic realism writer, though if you ask me, I would not know how to explain what it means. Magic? Realism? Gabriel García Márquez and his brilliant "One Hundred Years of Solitude" are apparently also part of that genre, well if that's what magic realism is, I love it.

Its interesting to make a parallel with current obsession with magic powered super heroes and mutants with the world Alice Hoffman decided to portray here: while our modern cinematic mutants effortlessly fight the ordinary mortals, Hoffman's mutants are terribly abused by them. In fact, they might not be mutants at all but some unfortunate souls born with deformities and since this is 1911, the only place they can earn money are circuses and freak shows, kind of like the Elephant Man. The museum from the title is nothing more than another exhibition of "wonders" that attracts thrill-seeking customers. Here is where we encounter two main protagonists and although the world around them screams "magic!" we understand this is just a glitzy papier mâché, there is no magic, just human greed, poverty and cruelty. As the novel progresses, we also understand that one and true magic in all this horrible life can in fact be real love. 

Hoffman writes exceptionally beautiful, unforgettable sentences. Every page or two, I would actually stop and savour some of them. There is a housekeeper with a face disfigured by acid, repulsive to the whole world but at certain hours of the day she looked illuminated as the beauty inside her was rising up trough her ravaged complexion. Or the man described as there was sorrow in the seams of his clothes. The city of New York serves as background and its a character in itself as Hoffman describes real life stories, tragedies and locations, including less known details from times when one could still find a real untouched nature relatively close by. For some reason, the main story about two main characters, their lives and eventual love affair was not really main focus of interest for me - strange as it sounds, though Hoffman chose them for main characters, I actually loved almost everything and everybody else better (including circus animals, hundred year old turtle or a lovable dog Mitts - when towards the end, the huge, real-life fire almost devoured half of the city, I told myself if that little dog dies, I will never read Alice Hoffman in my life anymore) - the novel is extremely rich in colourful details and unforgettable characters, though at times I found some of Hoffman's imagery extremely dark, disturbing and unnecessary cruel. Some of her pictures disturbed me for days. 

"The Hundred-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared" by Jonas Jonasson

Finally something that is sweet, quirky, original and feel good literature.

Contrary to what publishers regularly assume readers would go for - thrillers, mysteries, popular historical novels dressed up as biographies, another Dead Sea scrolls adding to the pile of preconceptions - here is a decidedly witty, lighthearted novel that encompasses the whole 20th century and its most important figures, while simultaneously celebrating a hundred years old main character who is combination of Forrest Gump and Good soldier Švejk - good natured, easy going and simple soul who survived all the life's calamities because he refused to ever worry about anything.

Allan Emmanuel Karlsson is exactly hundred years old when we first encounter him. He is also not happy with the strict discipline in his retirement home (later we find out why he lives there) and dreads all the fuss journalists and officials will make out of this occasion, so in the spur of the moment he quietly slips trough the window and disappears towards some bus station in his slippers - to some randomly chosen destination - carrying a bag that belonged to somebody else and hoping that inside of the bag there perhaps might be what he forgot, a hat or a pair of shoes. What follows is a hilarious send up to action novels because there happen to be a lot of action - this sweet centenarian is suddenly wanted man with both police and criminals sniffing at his trail - but Jonasson is turning it all upside down, since nobody is real dangerous or truly evil, its just a lot of comic twists and ridiculous accidents and at the end everybody is happy as they deserve to be. Along the way we are also sporadically told about Karlsson's long and eventful life, during which he somehow floated trough world wars and political intrigues, while bouncing from continent to continent and encountering all sorts of famous historical figures.

The best thing about this novel is how Jonasson loves his characters - he obviously has a lots of affection for everybody and there is not a single really bad guy around, people just appear dangerous but when inspected closely they are all comical, which in itself can be a poignant statement. Police detectives are equally clumsy as the supposedly lethal criminals, world leaders are not what they appear to be and some people enjoy a long and fruitful life simply because they mind their own business instead of fighting the windmills. Perfect example is a priest Kevin Ferguson who stupidly loses his short and pointless life trying to convert new followers in Iran as compared to wonderfully simple minded Herbert Einstein (yes, brother of famous Albert) who lives to grand old age despite his apparent and very obvious obliviousness. This is a message that Jonasson constantly signals between the lines, that we humans might find more peace and happiness if we stay out of troubles and leave fights to others. Not particularly radical or revolutionary but by caring about our own little corners and nests we might just get out if it alive, instead of throwing our lives away. Just like a golden goose from a fairy tale, Karlsson constantly pulls all sorts of characters to follow him and the group slowly but surely gets bigger and bigger (including a real, gigantic circus elephant) until the conclusion that leaves reader thoroughly delighted, happy and satisfied. Not just a happy end but a great feel-good reading therapy and it remains to see can Jonasson continue with something equally charming or is this perhaps just one but unforgettable work.

Time machine: London in 1844

   
          William Henry Fox Talbot: Nelson’s Column under Construction, Trafalgar Square, 1844

"Arrival" by Denis Villeneuve (2016)

And now something completely different.

Although I am absolutely in love with old black and white movies, from time to time curiosity brings me to something made recently and this movie is apparently huge international hit right now so why not using the freedom of vacation to check it out. The whole subject of the first contact between humans and aliens has been huge inspiration since forever - present in cinema at least since 1950s to my knowledge (but curiously not much exploited before) - and strangely enough we never have enough of this kind of movies because the idea is always fresh and intriguing. Aliens are often portrayed as friendly but every now and than somebody comes along who shows them in less positive light, basically directors usually divide between good aliens and monsters. Since I absolutely believe we are not the only intelligent life around, my guess is that contact with another race will probably be dangerous for us, since history shows that every time two civilisations met, usually one destroyed another, either trough germs, microbes, weapons or complete cultural assimilation. As much as we want to find the answers and contacts, we are probably best left alone and forgotten (ignored?) in our little corner of universe, before somebody eats all of us, together with our wars, religions, churches and superstitions.

The most interesting thing about this movie is the way it curiously plays with bigger picture (destiny of the planet a a whole) while simultaneously toying with one single human life (in this case linguist and phonetics expert Louise Banks) and how it all affects her. Amy Adams is excellent as woman caught in historic moment and we perfectly understand her anguish, the way she bravely tries to keep herself in control while the rest of the world slowly disintegrates into hysteria. Armies, politicians, governments and countless people around the world react with fear and can't decide what is the right step (some even suggest aggression) but Banks must stay focused on her given task and somehow translate communication with aliens, which is maddeningly vague - this intelligent movie is probably the first one to explain how difficult it might be to communicate with someone who might have completely different way of thinking that we, humans, have. How to ask "Where do you come from?" or "What do you want?"  if aliens have different concept of place and time? As linguist, Banks have clear idea that things are not so simple as simple question-and-answer sessions (though we suspect that aliens would destroy us long time ago if they intended to do so) and maddening flashback from her life eventually all make sense towards the conclusion of the movie. Surprisingly effective, intelligent and thoughtful movie that cleverly ignores every expected action cliché and focuses more on suspense and psychological drama. 

"Allied" by Robert Zemeckis (2016)

Every now and than you hear people using that old phrase "they don't make movies like that anymore"  but in fact, its not true.

Classic movies like "Casablanca", "Gone with the Wind" and such are simply predecessors - as movie industry changes, it also metamorphoses with times, follows the trends and sometimes goes back to original ides (the most obvious case being success of newly filmed silent movie "The Artist" ) basically always finding the way to appeal to audiences.Right now we are in the midst of special effects phase which hopefully will disappear soon because its getting tiresome and I deeply regret that directors don't follow examples of intellectual 1960s ancestors like Ingmar Bergman, but right now we have celebrated Robert Zemeckis ("Back to the Future", "Death Becomes Her", "Forrest Gump", "Cast Away") who have enough of Hollywood clout to attempt revisit to old sweeping war melodrama like "Casablanca". 

Connection with "Casablanca" is very obvious and affectionate, as both movies happen in 1940s Morocco and involve secret resistance agents but very soon Zemeckis follows his own path and moves on. Unlike Bogart and Bergman, these secret agents are not some sentimental old lovers but two hard boiled, well trained fighters who immediately act their given part of married couple, although they have never met before. Their task is to appear genuine enough to be invited to some official dinner where high ranking Nazi officer must be liquidated. Swept in the excitement, they decide to escape to war-thorn London and to get married there. This is where the story really starts as officer Max Vatan (Brad Pitt) eventually gets informed that his wife (Marion Cotillard) might not be who she claims to be. Vatan and his officials have 72 hours to find out the truth before supposed double agent must be killed. Because movie would not be exciting if truth was discovered too soon, we have all sorts of complications, suspicions and plots involving other people before the inevitable conclusion. It all moves quite fast and Zemeckis craftily weaves the web, hinting at other characters (Vatan's sister Lizzy Caplan for example) so movie is never boring or slow moving, in fact it all appears quite genuine, except the party in wartime London which is too boisterous for its time - Brits were far too buttoned up for that kind of behaviour - but I guess Zemeckis thought it would look good for modern audiences. Surprisingly for such well planned blockbuster, there is not much chemistry between main actors - Cotillard is excellent but Pitt decidedly shows almost no emotions whatsoever, except in one scene where he kicks the chair, making it unclear what he actually thinks or feels about it all. Perhaps that was directors intention, to make us wonder about his motives?

Not bad at all.

1960s beauties

                                                  Ann-Margret

                                                    Marianne Faithfull

                                                     Françoise Hardy

Old photographs

                                            Toni Schneiders: Familienbild, Lübeck, 1950

                                Ilse Bing: Boarding House for Young Women, Tours, 1935

           Ed Clark: Young artist paints Sacre-Coeur from the ancient Rue Narvins. Paris, France, 1946

"Great Composers: BBC documentary series"

Because I enjoyed Kathleen Ferrier recordings of Bach and Handel so much, I decided to check out this BBC series about great composers - I have always enjoyed BBC productions, besides I thought it would be good to refresh my knowledge about lives of great composers whom most of us know vaguely trough few biographical details about places where they lived, times they worked and names of the most popular pieces. The very first episode was about Johann Sebastian Bach and it was so thrilling, informative and exciting that I soon found myself watching one after the another trough the day (they are on youtube now) though I must admit that Bach episode was by far the most impressive - people like John Eliot Gardiner discussed what his music means to them and along the way there were lots of interesting details, like the story about young Bach walking to meet his idol, Danish organ player Dieterich Buxtehude or his discovery of music by Antonio Vivaldi who was supposedly completely forgotten by that time (and whom he found very inspiring). Again, just as I guessed, everybody is always inspired by his predecessors and its a sign of true artist when someone combines other ideas and influences into original work. What I personally found the most interesting is how Bach's music - nowadays completely removed from the historical and religious context of the times when he created it - still has the power to immediately move us in the most poignant and profound way, almost like religious experience, even though listener doesn't have to know the details about liturgical calendar and such. Of course there were other composers before Bach but he truly comes as some kind of Promethean father figure who wrote old testament for future musicians. 

In sharp contrast, episode about Mozart was kind of undercooked - one can approach it from so many different points of view but BBC insisted to somehow add some drama into story about basically lighthearted man so my impression was that critics, musicians and authorities went a bit too far into meandering guessing, trying to make him sound like some tortured soul, where in fact he seems to have been extremely likable, cheerful and optimistic person. There were some interesting details - apparently one of my favourite pieces (uplifting little tune) was written while his mother was on her death bed next door - but no matter how dramatic and heavy these people wanted to make him sound, I still found that his music is basically fountain of bubbly, feel-good energy. I have visited the house where he lived in Vienna (and his birth house in Salzburg) and soaked in the atmosphere, that was wonderful experience. 

The episode about Ludwig van Beethoven was much more interesting because scholars didn't have to try to make him more serious than Mozart, since he was completely different person, apparently intense and eccentric, also child prodigy but with some serious childhood scars and decidedly incapable to bow to wealthy aristocrats. It might sound strange today but in reality during his lifetime he was not really either accepted or embraced by Viennese audience who found him too difficult and demanding as musician. In all honesty I must admit that I never looked at his work seriously so this is something I must do in the future. (I have recordings of his complete sonatas by pianist Richard Goode but so far they never invited repeated listening, unlike Mozart whom I can listen the whole time)

To my biggest embarrassment, I must admit that I know even less about music of Richard Wagner so watching the episode about him was interesting experience, because all the musicians assembled here talk about him with adoration and respect, while he seems to have been completely unlikable and despicable person in his real life. So on one side we have this grandiose music and on the other man who by all accounts was self-centred, arrogant and prejudiced womaniser, really fascinating how we came to embrace his work with gingerly avoiding the subject of its creator. I have recordings of Wesendonck Lieder, complete Tristan und Isolde and occasional instrumental pieces but so far his music seemed too intimidating and I have always left it for some other time, "when I grow up", which eventually just have to come in the right moment. I believe that for everything there is a right time and I still might come to Wagner's work one day. 

I gulped these four episodes with greatest fascination and there is still more about Giacomo Puccini, Tchaikovsky and Gustav Mahler but for now I had my fill and now I might turn my attention to something completely different, like some bubblegum pop or disco just to get a break from all this drama. But every now and than I return to classical music for some gravitas. 

"A Recital of Bach and Handel Arias" by Kathleen Ferrier (1952)

Far from being choosy, when it comes to music I often stray from any delightful kitsch to Bach and back. From time to time I do get caught in a somber sweep of some classical piece and inevitably start thinking that I should just erase and burn all my other music, hide it in the attic and focus my life only on classical music because this is the only music that matters. So far I have postponed this but every now and than, like in this instance when I hear this recording, I am almost ready. It is still a big mystery of life, how did somebody from a working class background, with absolutely no previous knowledge in classical music (in my family it was looked upon as something very suspicious, pretentious and bourgeois) eventually came to embrace it so passionately with true affection and curiosity, while the rest of my friends and acquaintances have no interest in it. This might be one of the instances where I resist my natural urge to spread the good news and convert people to something I love - either I intuitively understand the futility of it or simply accepted that this is something I enjoy in my private time and as such little personal ritual it has particular magic and meaning for me alone. Curiously, with all the passing fads and trends, classical music is actually still very much alive and I don't see the twilight of it - whenever anything new fades and music industry gets in trouble, classical music still sells, timeless old recordings get new repackaging and apparently people still feel the need for the little magic in their lives. Marketing tricks might be different now, new generations of artists come and go but everybody is unique and bring something fresh and individual. There is also a huge amount of literature and information about classical music around now, so this helps when it comes to research and selection. 

It was a two-volume book "Legendary voices" (Nigel Douglas) borrowed from a public library that completely changed my life. Accompanied with two nice CDs, the books presented chapter-by-chapter profiles of some two dozen pre-WW2 artists who were much beloved and popular in their time, but eventually came to be overshadowed by later generations (who in turn will also be replaced by younger stars). CDs (by Nimbus Prima Voce edition) were fantastic and it took me almost two decades to actually move away from these old, mono recordings and to research later versions but one thing was always consistent - people back than truly believed no one can possibly match singers like Beniamino Gigli, Claudia Muzio or Jussi Björling and they were considered to be masters of their art. Than some time later came new generation who was celebrated as even better, but in reality Maria Callas grew idolising and listening to her older colleague, now almost forgotten Claudia Muzio. My point is that nobody just pops out of Zeus's head and everybody is influenced by somebody else, either consciously or unconsciously, new generations always arrive following somebody else and than combine all the affection and impressions into something new and fresh. Every now and than some new girl is advertised as new Callas but in fact everybody is unique. At the very end of second volume of his book, Nigel Douglas decided to add the chapters about two post-WW2 artists who in his opinion also deserve to be mentioned in such company and he lovingly wrote chapters about Callas and Kathleen Ferrier - this is how I came to hear her voice for the very first time, her recording of traditional Blow The Wind Southerly being chosen on CD as perfect example of her art. 

Blow The Wind Southerly might be the most popular of all the recordings Kathleen Ferrier made in her tragically short life and its still magical, haunting experience but in fact in her day Ferrier was much beloved and respected for works in different field - her unique and sonorous voice was perfectly suited for oratorio and nowhere is this more evident than on this recording with music by Bach and Handel. Backed by London Philharmonic Orchestra, she performs arias from Mass in B Minor, St. Matthew Passion, St. John Passion and Mass In B-Minor (all of them magnificent, somber pieces) before turning to English work by Handel (Samson, Messiah, Judas Maccabaeus) and being divided into two different sides of the record, they make simply perfect combination - one can hear her in either German or English pieces, soul responding immediately and instantly to such beauty, reverie  and pleasure. Religious experience as such (initially imagined by its creators) might or might not be shared by today's listeners but that is beyond the point - just as some of the biggest pieces of art displayed around the world's museums, they are now enjoyed out of the context and listener simply gets swept by the sheer beauty of the sound. Dutch singer Aafje Heynis who was Ferrier's contemporary also covered very much same territory and deserves your attention if this appeals to you. 

"The Bat" by Crane Wilbur (1959)

"House on Haunted Hill" was such a great fun that I just had to see another movie that Vincent Price made around the same time. I wonder why his voice is particularly associated with horror, because in my opinion he actually had a very pleasant, mellifluous tone - wonderful diction and never screaming or yelling like other characters around him. Perhaps its because he didn't bark that made him appear even more sinister? I could easily imagine audio book read by him, some great classics or another. I noticed long ago that interesting phenomenon in American movies where ordinary people who scream, yell or talk in slang are usually good guys and dangerous or deranged characters are usually cultured, well spoken and listening to classical music. It really suggests that different is dangerous which is completely nonsense of course.

"The Bat" is actually not a horror at all, but a solid crime & mystery little afternoon entertainment, kind of movie that played on Sunday afternoon on my TV when I was child. Delightful Agnes Moorehead is a cranky spinster author of crime novels who arrives in town with her faithful maid (they behave like old married couple) to rent a house where all sorts of murders happened previously - even though everybody warns her to stay alert or to simply leave the place, Moorehead refuse to believe there is anything supernatural about it and we encounter healthy doses of cracking doors, windows slamming, thunders and lighting outside while story unfolds and we suspect someone actually searches the house for the clue about stolen money from the bank. While women helplessly roam the dark house, several men are around to help them but each of them might have ulterior motives: I must admit that old as this movie is, it still kept me guessing right until the very end so yes, its still effective, though it shows its theatre stage origins. I came to see Vincent Price and left impressed with Agnes Moorehead, who is absolutely cute as no-nonsense, tough and thick-skinned lady, very different from usual female characters of the time (other women around her mostly scream and faint, while she totters the gun and throws things at intruder).