Dear friends: I started writing Impromptus in 2001 — March, I believe. Anyway, earlyish 2001. Since then, I have written hundreds and hundreds of columns, and received untold e-mails from readers. That goes with the territory. When you write for a print publication, you may get one or two letters, or none. When you write something on the Web — you get a crush of response. That is true whether what you’ve written is trifling or weighty.
Over the years, I have thought of doing Frequently Asked Questions — because there are some. Frequently Asked Questions, I mean. I have always resisted, but I would like to answer a few now. Today’s column will address three.
By far the most frequently asked question I receive is, What can I read about Che Guevara? What can I read to know the truth about him, as distinct from the myth? What can I tell a person — especially a family member or friend — who has one of the T-shirts?
And here is No. 2 — the question that is asked second most frequently: How can I know about music? What can I read about music, to know about music — to get into music? (Classical music, that is.)
And third: I’m interested in breaking into journalism. What should I do?
These are the questions I will answer today, to a reasonable degree, I hope.
• I have given a Guevara list in Impromptus before — but I’d like to do something a tad fuller now. I have consulted some knowledgeable friends of mine — and I’ll list some articles, some books, and a documentary. I have not read (or watched) all of them. But those who can be trusted have.
In the past, I have provided this link, which is to “Featured Writings” about Guevara: They include pieces by Anthony Daniels, Alvaro Vargas-Llosa, and me.
Marc Masferrer, a valuable blogger, has a list, too. This includes a piece by the sterling liberal anti-Communist Paul Berman. Masferrer amusingly refers to these suggestions of his as a “Che Guevara Reeducation Program.” Guevara himself would have understood. Go here.
There is a book called Exposing the Real Che Guevara: And the Idiots Who Idolize Him, by Humberto Fontova. Vargas-Llosa, too, has a book: The Che Guevara Myth and the Future of Liberty. Fontova has written several articles, including this and this.
A must for knowledge about Cuba is the Cuba Archive, here. It is dedicated to “Truth and Memory.” There is a section called “Che Guevara’s Victims in Cuba, 1957-1959”: here.
Do you read Spanish? I am told that two important and truthful books are Ernesto Che Guevara: Mito y Realidad, by Enrique Ros, and Guevara: Misionero de la Violencia, by Pedro Corzo et al. There is also a documentary that people say is a bull’s-eye: El Che: Anatomia de un Mito.
All this will certainly get you started — and will lead you to other things. I wrote to a Latin America scholar — a superb one — and he said the following: “At one time, I was collecting stuff about Guevara to write a piece of my own, but the subject is so nauseating . . . as if I had to write an article explaining why the Nazis were bad.” Yet such articles are necessary: because the myth-making about Che is strong and mesmerizing. My scholar friend continued, “Are you aware of the fact that there are busts and statues of Che Guevara not just in Central Park but in Vienna and other European capitals?”
Yes, but those busts and statues can be taken down, mentally — with truthful accounts and assessments. With fantasy-puncturing. There is plenty available, for those who wish to see (to see beyond the T-shirt, that is).
• Now to music: There is plenty to read about music — plenty of good books, and articles. But music isn’t really meant to be written or read about. (How’s that from a music critic!) It’s meant to be played, listened to, composed. I suggest that people listen to some things — an assortment of music. Just dip in. If you like something, seek out more from that composer — listen to him, read about him, etc. Feel your way along. Embark on discovery.
I have always resisted giving a reading list, or a listening list, rather. Such lists are bound to be fairly random, and feeble, and cheesy. Some of us have been immersed in music forever. How could we possibly begin? It is like confronting grains of sand on a beach. And the beach is all of music, music as a totality.
But I’ll jot a little list — suggested listening. This will be just kind of a starter kit — some initial suggestions. And would you do me a favor? I hate to sound like a jerk, but please don’t write me to tell me what I have missed. I know what I have missed, full well, perhaps better than you. (Sorry to be a jerk again!) I simply feel the need to respond to this FAQ. The music question comes up with persistence. And, till now, I have basically said, “Listen to some stuff! Particularly by the great composers. Just dive in, or dip in.”
Today, I will not discuss performances — that is, I will not recommend recordings. That is for another day, or book, or whatever. The important thing, now, is the music — an acquaintance with music. It matters not where the music comes from. Get something cheap, borrow something, attend something — whatever. Okay, here goes.
Maybe dip into some Monteverdi — try his Vespers, or excerpts from an opera: Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria or L’incoronazione di Poppea. Maybe try some Purcell — Dido’s Lament, from Dido and Aeneas. Some songs — maybe the “Morning Hymn,” or the “Evening Hymn.” Maybe “Music for a While.” You might also check out the Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day.
Bach? I tremble even to mention his name, much less to recommend particular pieces. Try a smattering: a Brandenburg concerto, a keyboard suite — maybe the Partita in B flat, or in C minor, or in E minor. How about a cello suite (any)? How about an organ compilation?
Get a hold of some cantatas, too — maybe BWV 170, “Vergnügte Ruh’, beliebte Seelenlust,” or BWV 159, “Sehet, wir gehn hinauf gen Jerusalem,” or BWV 82, “Ich habe genug.” Also, do yourself this favor: Listen to the B Minor Mass.
Handel? What to say? See what you’ve done to me, you Frequent Askers? By all means, listen to Messiah, at least excerpts. Listen to excerpts from some opera — Julius Caesar. Try the Royal Fireworks music. Listen to some keyboard music — maybe the Suite No. 5 in E, which ends with “The Harmonious Blacksmith.” You know? You could spend a lifetime with Handel (and with many of these others).
Sample some keyboard sonatas of Scarlatti. (He called them esercizi, or exercises.)
Haydn? Oh, boy. He lived a long time, and composed a lot. Listen to a symphony, one or two of his 104. Maybe No. 94 in G, the “Surprise.” Maybe No. 97 in C. (No nickname — it’s just great.) From his piano music? Maybe the Variations in F minor. One of his string quartets? Sure. Almost at random: No. 61 in D minor, “Fifths.”
Mozart. You’ve got to be kidding. Listen to some opera overture — that to The Marriage of Figaro, probably, or to The Magic Flute. Symphonies? Try the last three, or one of them — maybe go to the very last, No. 41, “Jupiter.” Piano concertos? Sure, practically any — try K. 466, in D minor. Listen to the Clarinet Concerto, or the Clarinet Quintet, or both. Try a selection of opera arias. And know the Requiem. Or know the C Minor Mass. Or both. Don’t do this to me.
Take a break for a quick story? Years ago, I took a golf friend to The Marriage of Figaro. (He had never seen an opera, and perhaps not attended a classical concert.) After the overture, he leaned over to me and said, “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.” I thought to myself: He’ll never hear anything to top it, if he listens for decades and decades. In fact, I’m pretty sure I said it.
The question of Beethoven? You’re killing me. Killing me. The symphonies, sure. Any? The Fifth? Why not. The Ninth? Sure. Know the choral movement, at least. Listen to a piano sonata or two — visit the “Waldstein,” maybe. You have the Violin Concerto. A work of chamber music? Okay. A string quartet? Okay. Op. 135, in F? Fine — more than fine.
Schubert — he lived 31 years, but wrote enough for 100 lifetimes. Dip into the songs — just dip into them, somehow. See what grabs you, or doesn’t. Dip into the piano music — some impromptus, a sonata. (Acquaint yourself with the Sonata in B flat, Op. posth., also sometimes written as D. 960.) Try the String Quintet in C, and do a symphony: say, the “Unfinished.” It’s short. (Unlike the “Great C-major,” renowned for its “heavenly length,” as Schumann once said.)
All right, Schumann: Some songs, for sure — definitely some songs. He was one of the greatest songwriters ever. Piano music? Any, really — the Symphonic Etudes. Kinderszenen. Symphonies? All four — beginning with No. 1, the “Spring.” Chamber music? Sure — the Piano Quintet in E flat.
Mendelssohn? He wrote his great, immortal Octet at 16. What were you doing at that age?
You may want to know what bel canto opera sounds like — try the Sextet from Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor. And know some Rossini — at least some overtures. At least The Lone Ranger! (William Tell.) Listen to an aria — maybe “Non più mesta” from La cenerentola. And, for goo’ness’ sake, see The Barber of Seville — what a joy. And shot through with genius.
Maybe get a little Berlioz under your belt: a concert overture, like The Roman Carnival. “L’Isle inconnue,” from Les Nuits d’été, is one of the great songs, by anybody. And you may get a kick out of the Symphonie fantastique, one of the world’s most popular pieces.
What to do about Chopin? Dip in — try a nocturne, or a waltz, or a prelude, or an impromptu. Or a few mazurkas. Just try something. Oh, I have an idea: the four ballades. Go for it. (Or just one of them.) (As a rule, listen to short things, when you’re starting out.) (I said as a rule.)
Brahms, Brahms. Oh, what a songwriter — absolutely great. What a symphonist — any of the four. Either of the two piano concertos, and the violin concerto, and the double concerto (violin and cello). You will like the Academic Festival Overture — guaranteed. Piano pieces? The ones in Op. 118 will do.
Mendelssohn’s Octet is a staggering youthful achievement. So is Bizet’s Symphony in C (which he wrote at 17). And you know Carmen, right — the soundtrack to The Bad News Bears?
Treat yourself to some Fauré: his little Pavane, or his (less little) Requiem. And, for sure, songs — sung by Janet Baker or Gérard Souzay (oops, sorry, was not going to do performers — I will not slip again). For piano music, try some impromptus (I keep mentioning those).
Dvorak! Know the Carnival Overture. And a symphony — No. 8 or No. 9 (“From the New World”). The chamber music is unbelievably good, and you may wish to hear the Piano Quintet in A, Op. 81. And how about the “Song to the Moon” from the opera Rusalka?
Wagner: Just listen to a few excerpts, from his operas. Find a collection of orchestral excerpts. Or listen to Act I of Die Walküre. Or find some vocal excerpts that include Wotan’s Farewell, the Immolation Scene, the Liebestod . . . And treat yourself to his little Siegfried’s Idyll (for chamber orchestra)!
Mahler? Um, some songs — maybe the Rückert Lieder. A symphony? Can’t go wrong with any of the nine — but maybe start with No. 1, “Titan,” and continue with No. 2, “Resurrection.” On a related subject, what to do about Bruckner? Try one movement from one symphony — maybe the slow movement of the Seventh. Or be uplifted by all of the Ninth.
Let’s go English with some Elgar — his Enigma Variations, and his Sea Pictures (for mezzo and orchestra), and his Symphony No. 1 in A flat. Go Norwegian with some Grieg: his Holberg Suite, say, and some Lyric Pieces (which are for piano).
Okay, to Russia: Tchaikovsky — something from a symphony: probably his Fifth or Sixth (“Pathétique”). And here is something really cool: the little march — the Andantino marziale — from his Symphony No. 2, “Little Russian.” (That refers to Ukraine, not a short Muscovite.) Something from a Tchaikovsky opera — the Letter Scene from Eugene Onegin? And ballet excerpts: from The Nutcracker, The Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake. The Piano Concerto (No. 1)? The Violin Concerto? Course, course.
Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition, either in an orchestral arrangement or for the piano. (The piano version is rather underrated.) And maybe the death scene from Boris Godunov. Rimsky-Korsakov? In an interview, the conductor Valery Gergiev told me that Scheherazade was pretty much the first piece that “hooked” him. You’ll also like Capriccio espagnol, and the Russian Easter Festival Overture, and . . .
To the opera house: Sample some Verdi — maybe excerpts from La traviata or Otello. Sample some Puccini — maybe excerpts from Tosca or Madama Butterfly — or the little Rondine, Puccini’s “operetta”!
In the song world — specifically, the world of the Lied: Try something by Hugo Wolf — maybe something from Italian Songbook (whose words are in German).
From Debussy, you may want to listen to La Mer, or Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun. Taste some of the songs, too (especially “Beau soir”). For piano? L’Isle joyeuse? Oh, yeah. And absorb the String Quartet. Relatedly, don’t neglect your Ravel: the Piano Concerto in G; the little Pavane for a Dead Princess; the Violin Sonata.
Holst’s Planets — at least some of them. An amusement — an ingenious amusement — for Halloween? Saint-Saëns’s Danse macabre.
Schoenberg was several different composers, which is to say, he wrote in several different styles, or went through several periods. For example, Verklärte Nacht is one thing; and the String Quartet No. 2 (which involves a soprano) is another. And the Berg Violin Concerto? A flat-out masterpiece of music.
Strauss (Richard — not of the waltz family, though Richard could write waltzes with the best of them) was quite versatile. Try a tone poem — say, Don Juan. Avail yourself of some songs — several songs. If you want the Four Last ones, fine. But there are dozens of others. Listen to a highlight or two of Der Rosenkavalier (speaking of waltzes). Watch, if you can, the short opera Salome or Elektra — Elektra is one of the greatest things in all of music. And maybe just listen to the Final Scene of Salome, which I have long referred to as “the mad Liebestod.”
Rachmaninoff? Some piano preludes. His cello sonata. The Vespers (sublime). The Symphony No. 2. Couple of piano concertos — 2 and 3. Wanna get chilly? (We’re going to Scandinavia.) Listen to Sibelius, perhaps his Symphony No. 5, and definitely — definitely — his Violin Concerto. For dessert, the little Valse triste.
Stravinsky went through more periods than Schoenberg. Sample him in The Rite of Spring, in The Firebird — and in The Rake’s Progress, in the form of the aria that begins “No word from Tom.” Bartok? The Concerto for Orchestra, of course. And how about his Piano Concerto No. 3 (his “Mozart” concerto)? One of the rhapsodies for violin and orchestra (or piano). Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta.
To Spain: A taste of Iberia (Albéniz); a taste of Goyescas (Granados).
Prokofiev wrote a ballet on Romeo and Juliet — which you will want to sample. (Maybe get a suite.) Also consider the Piano Concerto No. 3 (speaking of those). Shostakovich? Ooh, so much: for a sheer kick, the Festive Overture; a symphony or two — No. 5, No. 10; the Second Piano Concerto (which is not well enough known, and a pure delight); the Cello Concerto No. 1; the String Quartet No. 8; and — perhaps above all — the Violin Concerto No. 1. One of the greatest things in music, frankly.
If you’re an American, you’d better know all of Gershwin — and maybe even if you’re not: the piano preludes; Rhapsody in Blue; the Concerto in F; An American in Paris; Porgy and Bess (certainly excerpts). Did your mother ever sing to you “Summertime”? Keeping to the home front, Copland, a Brooklyn Jew, gave us the sound of the American West in Rodeo. He gave us the sound of pastoral America in Appalachian Spring. Try a couple of songs, too — maybe “Heart, we will forget him,” from the Dickinson Songs.
Find some liturgical music by Arvo Pärt. Maybe look into a little Henri Dutilleux – for example, his recent piece Sur le même accord. Try George Crumb’s song-cycle Apparition. Listen to a symphony by Michael Hersch (a friend of mine, I should say). Get some songs of Lee Hoiby (another friend). Minimalism from Steve Reich? Yeah – groove to You Are (Variations).
Some musical people are offended by such products as The Perfect Bach or Chill-Out Classical Music. To heck with them (the people, I mean). Such discs — these compilations — can be a magnificent “gateway.” And enjoyable in themselves. And if you like a particular performer — Horowitz, Milstein, Callas, Celibidache — just soak up the entire discography, or great chunks of it.
Anyway, just an answer — for all its inadequacy — to an FAQ.
• Finally, to Question No. 3: What can I do to break into journalism? Well, first of all you have to have drive and skill, in some combination. Of what field is this not true? You should have some imagination, and it helps to write well — maybe not stylishly, but at least well. And let me suggest that you find topics off the beaten path: topics that have not been trodden by hundreds of others. Maybe something that only you can write about. Maybe something that you have noticed, uniquely, or quasi-uniquely. There are plenty of people — established journalists — to write about the president, the Congress, war and peace. What do you have to say that is peculiar, or that may stand out? What do you have to contribute? Do you have some quirky area of expertise? Could you develop one?
Present to an editor something new and different — something that the established folk aren’t offering. See if the editor will bite. And keep trying and trying and trying. Cast your net as wide as possible: Seek out every publication, every editor, every contact. Work for free or for pay, it matters not, at first. Do some blogging on your own, or some other self-publishing. Everyone’s a publisher now, right? If you have a gift — of mind, of curiosity, of pen — I believe you will out.
I think that’s my best shot — those are my best shots — for now.