The Hand of the Poet and other stories

 The Little Friend provided some thriller episodes, some paasages of fine writing and an ending I won't divulge here without perhaps anyone wishing it longer or putting it quite alongside The Secret History or The Goldfinch. Suspense, character and malevolence are things Donna Tartt does well but there's something unsatisfactory about the novel as a whole that prevents it from being anything more than the difficult second book. At least I've read it now, though, and did so with some pleasure.

The Hand of the Poet is one great bargain find, though. The first of the batch of Dana Gioia-related volumes to arrive, it's substantial. In roughly chronological sequence it profiles poets with reference to manuscripts, or typescripts, from the Berg collection. The emphasis is on the American with a number of unfamiliar names and some major English missing, those included being those who 'broke' America, one might say. It is ideal bedside reading and diverting without being the main feature of the Gioia 'research'.

But I am more motivated than I've felt for quite some time by the possibilities of the Gioia essay and the chance to work on what might be a fairly original idea at my leisure, letting it build and see where it leads. How to organize the material, how to re-phrase sentences to say only what is meant and avoid saying more than that. The process is not unlike that of writing a poem and is as creative in its way but, gladly, it takes longer and can be luxuriated in. The enjoyment of writing poems was/is a bit of a 400 metre bash, once round the track, for me because they often fit together quite readily once the ideas have been thought out. The essay allows more time to enjoy the doing of it. And there is nothing better than feeling one has something worthwhile to do. 

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The Reconstructed Violin Concertos in the Complete Bach are, of course, very fine music but, as with doubtful attributions, one is slightly put off by not knowing which bits are Bach and which aren't. One hardly wants to over credit him with bits that weren't actually him. It shouldn't matter but it becomes important in the art world when something is downgraded from, say, Rembrandt to 'school of'. Isn't that bit slightly more Romantic, does that bit sound like Haydn. Probably not. Just because you know every note might not be authentic Bach, you're imagining things. 

I must venture into the organ works at some point because one must have the whole Bach experience and, it has to be said, when one finds oneself at an organ recital it is any Bach on the programme that one instinctively knows is right.

I doubt if I'll have played all 172 discs by Christmas, or perhaps by next summer, or ever. I'd rather explore the lesser known repertoire in among the oratorios and all and the Well Tempered Klavier might be saved for the grand finale. But it remains a spectacular buy. One trusts to one's instincts at such moments and they are generally right. Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch, I Can't Help Myself.