The Cello Suites: In Search of a Baroque Masterpiece

Eric Siblin starts this book with his Pauline conversion to the music, after many years as rock critic for a newspaper. For a self-confessed neophyte in this elaborate world, he seems remarkably sure about the quality of his own insight thereafter. It starts when he describes a visit to a recital, where he speaks disparagingly of the way classical music events are staged and presented. Mainly they appear to be too stuffy and lacking in sparkle. This rings a little hollow to me as a refugee from rock concerts, where the marshals treat the paying guests like lepers, the band always arrive hours after advertised, the sound is engineered without care for the paying customers, etc etc. Does he not consider that a different type of attending is taking place? Later he dismisses the whole of the historically-informed performance movement, describing it as musical "fascisim". He parrots the old chestnuts about dry, scholarly performances without soul. With his vast several weeks of experience in this music he knows where its heart lies, and sees fit to dismiss in one line the efforts of many studious, well-trained musicians who have thought long and hard about their approach to it. There are long and complex arguments to be made both for and against historically-informed performance, but Siblin engages with none of these and dismisses it all with one wave of his pen. I didn't get any further in the book, I'm afraid. There were good things in it, but I had lost patience with the too-familiar cocksure voice of a journalist who knows all about a subject and its moral core after a few months' study.

This was a present for my husband. Loved it. I had read a review in the Economist so I was only looking to purchase not needing extra information. In general when looking at books on offer I would like more information on other books by same author (titles at least). Some of your recommendations have been disappointing but most worthwhile. Christine Shinn

It's delightful that Eric Siblin discovered Bach, and like converts in so many fields, became obsessed. He took his new obsession to journalistic heights and depths, spending about ten years putting this story together. He has done a very entertaining job, weaving the stories of Bach and Casals through the structure of the six cello suites. A unique approach that is refreshingly different. I have some quibbles, like when he describes how Bach died without a will on one page, but then goes on to describe how Bach bequeathed specific instruments and manuscripts to specific sons he favored. Well, which is it? Did Bach die intestate, or did he leave a highly detailed will? Or how Bach never went to Italy, which limited his renown in his time. It is my understanding that Bach made at least three trips to Italy, and all of them to see what Antonio Vivaldi was up to. Bach lifted liberally from Vivaldi, and sometimes even credited Vivaldi in pieces directly adapted and dedicated to him. Siblin mentions the lack of any Italy forage twice, which is something he does a lot - mentioning things twice, as if his gentle readers could not be expected to remember the last time he brought it up. So the book is not perfect (and a couple of typos don't help, which is surprising for a book that was published in Canada a year ago), but these are, I repeat myself, quibbles. It's a delightful read. Another quibble, perhaps, is Siblin's website. What a perfect place to put clips of the themes he tries to describe. Words have never lived up to the effect of actual music, and today we have the technology to make it happen. Notes, chords, bars and melodies fairly scream to be demonstrated online, with references back to their pages in the book. Instead, Siblin has embedded Youtube videos of bizarrely unusual Bach cello performances but not including any of Pablo Casals, the worthy subject of numerous Youtube clips, not to mention this book. I don't get it, and Siblin's readers are left behind. One thing Siblin regrets is that events he goes to are attended by a lot of white haired Caucasians plus a few students. It does not portend good things for classical music. He complains about the mandatory silence during the performance and the protocol against applause until the end. I can only say that he would have written another whole book had he seen Virgil Fox. Fox, the Riverside Church (NYC) organist, took Bach on tour in a concert series called Bach Live - Heavy Organ. He used strobe lights, giant screens and smoke to enhance the effects, and audiences responded with wild applause, including clapping to the beat during the pieces, calling out to him from their seats, and in every performance I saw, climbing onto the stage to dance the Gigue fugue. He recorded LPs live at the Fillmore and the Winter Garden, and appealed directly to a whole new demographic. That's the secret of Bach - he appeals to different people for different reasons with different results - but he always appeals.

An enjoyable if rather disconnected amble through the lives and works of Pablo Casals, and JS Bach and his family, set against the backcloths of the Holy Roman Empire and Spain in the 20th century. Somehow the author's fascination for the 6 solo cello suites holds it all together - but at times less than totally convincingly (especially in the random division of the book into 6 sections corresponding to each of the suites and the use of the titles of the movements as chapter headings - did I miss something?). However, the combination of history, genius, real-life and the occasional musical insight made it a decent read. Shame about the odd elements of repetition - wouldn't a half-decent proof-reader have edited/managed those better? Recommended if you have more than a passing interest in the music, well-researched obsessions and/or the spanish civil war.