Sight Reading

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by Daphne Kalotay


  TENUTO: (Italian, tenere: “to hold”) A directive to perform a certain note or chord of a composition in a sustained manner for longer than its full duration, but without generally altering the note’s value.

  TIMBRE: (Old French: “bell”) The quality of a musical tone that allows one to distinguish voices and instruments; that component of a tone that causes different instruments (for example, a guitar and a violin) to sound different from each other while they are both playing the same note.

  TUTTI: (Italian: “all”) A directive to perform a certain passage of a composition with all instruments together, not specifically by solo instruments.

  VERTICAL PIZZICATO: Musical direction denoted by a circle with a vertical line going from the center upward beyond the circle. Known as the Bartók pizzicato, it was invented by the musician Béla Bartók and is used extensively in his compositions. This technique is achieved by plucking the string far from the fingerboard, using the right hand, using enough force to cause the string to snap back and strike the fingerboard. This snapping sound has its own pitch.

  VIBRATO: (Italian, vibrare: “to vibrate”) Vibrating; a rapidly repeated slight alteration in the pitch of a note, used to give a richer sound and as a means of expression. Since the nineteenth century, vibrato has been used almost constantly because of its enhancement of tone.

  SOURCES

  E-zine articles, http://EzineArticles.com/6816626.

  San Francisco Classical Voice, www.sfcv.org; through Naxos, www.naxos.com.

  Virginia Tech Multimedia Music Dictionary, www.music.vt.edu.

  Wikipedia, www.wikipedia.org.

  P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*

  About the author

  * * *

  Meet Daphne Kalotay

  About the book

  * * *

  Behind the Book: A Conversation with Daphne Kalotay

  Discussion Guide

  Playlist

  Read on

  * * *

  An Excerpt from Daphne Kalotay’s Russian Winter

  About the author

  * * *

  Meet Daphne Kalotay

  Photo by Liz Linder

  DAPHNE KALOTAY is the author of the award-winning novel Russian Winter, which has been published in twenty languages, and the fiction collection Calamity and Other Stories. She has received fellowships from the Christopher Isherwood Foundation, MacDowell, and Yaddo, and has taught at Boston University, Skidmore College, Grub Street, and Middlebury College. She lives in Somerville, Massachusetts.

  About the book

  * * *

  Behind the Book

  A Conversation with Daphne Kalotay

  How did the idea for Sight Reading originate?

  In 2003, I wrote a short story called “The Replacement.” It was told from the point of view of a conservatory student, about what happens when the school’s conductor is suddenly replaced by a new arrival. I was recalling how one semester in college our conductor abruptly left and was replaced by a very different personality.

  The characters in the short story quickly became quite different from the real-life ones, and I realized I needed to find out who they were. The next thing I knew, I was writing a story from the point of view of the new conductor—and then a story from the point of view of his wife. But I already had a book of linked stories and wanted to do something new, so I told myself I would turn the stories into a novella instead. The book continued to grow, though, until I had to admit to myself that I was writing a novel.

  How long did it take you to write?

  Six years total. When I started it, I had already begun writing my first novel, Russian Winter, a big project that often felt overwhelming. I told myself I could write the musician book “on the side” as a sort of relief from the Russian book—that this other one would be short and simple. Whenever I hit a wall with Russian Winter, I’d return to Sight Reading; I thought that since it was set in Boston, where I lived, and was contemporary rather than historical, it would be much easier than Russian Winter. But of course no book is easy to write. It wasn’t until 2008 that I at last came to the end of the story—which allowed me to put the book aside and complete Russian Winter. In 2011, I finally sat down to revise Sight Reading.

  How did the experience of writing Sight Reading differ from that of writing Russian Winter?

  The structure of this book made the writing more challenging, due to the large leaps in time. Twice I skip forward ten years and have to fill the reader in without bogging down the narrative. I chose this structure because I wanted to concentrate on key moments in these characters’ lives, rather than wading slowly through time (as do so many family sagas). But that structure can be briefly disorienting when the reader suddenly has to adjust to a new decade and reconfigured relationships among the characters.

  Sight Reading is in part about music and being a musician. What drew you to that topic?

  Music was very much a part of my life growing up, and it remains vital to me. Music is also one of the most easily appreciated art forms; unlike novels and stories, music always elicits immediate, primal reactions, and in most cases the listener doesn’t have to work to engage with it. So in a way I’ve always envied musicians and people who live in that world. Sight Reading was an excuse for me to spend more time in that realm, by reading about—and speaking with—musicians, conductors, and composers.

  Did it require any special research or travel?

  Yes. While researching my first novel, Russian Winter, I learned a lot about the intense commitment and drive it takes to be a successful ballerina, so I had that intensity in mind when I approached the professional musicians in this book. I had played viola growing up and throughout my college years, and I was always struck by the dedication and sacrifice necessary to transform what was, for someone like me, a hobby into a serious occupation.

  I read memoirs by and biographies about various musicians and what it took for them to achieve greatness. I also thought back to when I was learning to play the violin and piano, and then the viola, and about the music teachers I’ve known, and I allowed those experiences to infuse my writing.

  In addition, I read interviews with composers and articles about conductors, and spoke to a number of professionals in these disciplines. I’m lucky to have met a number of composers over the years, so I relied on them to help me with the Nicholas story line, just as I needed to speak with an actual violinist in the Boston Symphony Orchestra in order to make sure I had those elements generally correct.

  Can you say something about the title?

  Sight-reading in music refers to seeing the music for the first time and playing it on sight, without the benefit of rehearsal. When I used to audition for school orchestras, sight-reading was the part of the audition that scared everyone the most, because it was the one big unknown; you didn’t know what music they would put in front of you. Since life itself confronts us this way, I like the metaphor. But I also like that it echoes the experience of the character Hazel, whose visions, or sightings, are mysterious but also reveal her own innate intuition.

  Both Russian Winter and Sight Reading look at the lives of professional performers and at art as a liberating force. What do you see as the main differences between the two books?

  This novel is more subtle and character-driven than my previous one. I’m relying on personality, voice, and thought process more than dramatic plot points. The issues these characters deal with aren’t matters of life and death, as in my previous novel; they are questions about relationships, family, art, and truth. Not that these are necessarily “smaller” issues than the political and wartime hardships of the characters in Russian Winter. The issues here are quotidian but universal, often viewed as mundane. In fact, the working title was Symphonia Domestica. I wanted to show that in fact ordinary lives are no less dramatic or distinctive than the ones we tend to view as extraordinary.

  Discussion Guide

  1. The novel’s epigraph is a quote from Pla
to’s Symposium. What insights does it offer into the story that follows?

  2. How do the varied backgrounds of Hazel, Remy, and Nicholas shape the people they become? For what differing reasons are Hazel and Remy drawn to Nicholas?

  3. Early in the story, Hazel believes she sees her doppelgänger. What does this portend for her? Why do you think she is seeing herself outside of herself?

  4. Would Hazel and Nicholas’s marriage have endured if Remy hadn’t pursued Nicholas? Why do you think Nicholas takes up with Remy? What does she offer him that Hazel does not?

  5. Early on, Remy wants to live “brilliantly. Freely, decadently. . . .” How does one live freely and decadently, and what are the benefits or drawbacks of doing so? Is it possible for a cautious, careful person to truly learn to let go? Conrad Lesser advises Remy to “always be prepared for the unexpected,” even as he helps her tap into her desire for freedom; is it possible to live a free, decadent life, yet still be prepared? How does Lesser’s advice influence Remy’s choices later in life?

  6. When Part Two begins, the story has moved ahead a decade. How have the intervening years affected the trio? How does their self-involvement color their perceptions of one another?

  7. How does her medical affliction impact Hazel’s self-image? Why does she still hold on to the past—what is it that prevents her from moving on? Why is it difficult to see other people being happy when we don’t feel that way ourselves?

  8. How does Remy’s happiness—or the lack of it—affect her professional life?

  9. Consider Nicholas’s relationship with Yoni. What are the unspoken nuances of this friendship? When Yoni tells Nicholas, “I sometimes find you careless with Remy’s heart,” is he correct in his assessment?

  10. Does an artist have to forget, or take for granted, the outside world and even the people he or she loves for the purposes of his or her art?

  11. Do you sympathize with the choices Remy makes concerning Yoni? What is your opinion of Yoni?

  12. How does raising a teenager shift the dynamics between the adults in the story? How would you define Jessie’s relationship with each of her parents and with her stepmother?

  13. As Part Three of the novel opens, another decade has passed. How has the passage of time affected the protagonists and their outlook on life, love, and work? In what ways have they remained the same? Did your feelings about them change over the course of the novel? Which character do you think evolves the most?

  14. Was Nicholas unfaithful to Remy? Do you think couples should be allowed to have a few secrets from each other? Is Remy reacting to a perceived betrayal or to her own guilt?

  15. There is much discussion in Sight Reading about what makes something “art” or not. What are your thoughts on the various characters’ definitions of art? How do you define “art”?

  16. Early on, Nicholas says that “tempo is about more than just speed. . . . It’s about the passage of time, really. In our lives. . . . Not just how fast or how slowly the music moves. It’s about how fast and slow life moves.” How is this reflected in the story? How would you characterize the tempo of the novel?

  17. Besides the title’s musical reference—to playing music at first sight, when reading the notes for the first time—what other significance does sight-reading have to the story? What can sight-reading teach us about life and how to live?

  18. When the book opens, Hazel is reminded of her own theory “that what was one person’s bane was another’s savior and that, in the grand scheme of things, everything worked out in the end.” Do you think her theory has merit? How does it play out as the novel unfolds?

  Playlist

  LOTS OF wonderful music—from classical favorites to jazz and salsa—weaves through Sight Reading. Below is a list of some of the works mentioned, in the order in which they appear. You can find audio links on my website’s Sight Reading page. Enjoy!

  1. Scheherazade, Op. 35 by Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov

  This is the piece for which Remy wishes she, instead of her stand partner, played the solo—the sensuous musical theme representing the storyteller Scheherazade.

  2. “the Sibelius”

  Though I don’t mention which specific piece the orchestra is playing, I believe I had in mind Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 43 and the somewhat grandiose climactic moment in the second half of the finale.

  3. “the Khachaturian”

  I didn’t have a specific piece in mind, but a favorite of mine is the wonderful Gayane: Suite No. 1.

  4. “Carmen Fantasy” by Franz Waxman

  I’m sure you’ll recognize this one!

  5. Partita No. 2 in D minor by J. S. Bach

  I was lucky enough to see Hilary Hahn play the “Chaconne” from this partita live at Jordan Hall—one of the most exhilarating musical performances I’ve seen.

  6. “a late Beethoven quartet”

  In an earlier draft, I actually wrote an entire scene in which Remy and her dormmate Peter listen to String Quartet No. 12 in E flat, Op. 127, after which Peter declares, “Now you’ve been deflowered.” I was deciding between that piece or the particularly wild and challenging Große Fuge, which Beethoven composed when he was already completely deaf.

  7. Violin Sonata no. 3 in D minor, Op. 108 by Johannes Brahms

  I had the pleasure of hearing the young Norwegian violinist Vilde Frang play this live in a recital here in Cambridge.

  8. Two-Part Invention 2 in C minor by J. S. Bach

  When I decided to restart piano lessons as an adult, it was in part because I wanted to learn to play this piece—which my very exacting teacher said I wasn’t ready to take on (but I went home and learned it anyway).

  9. Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 35 by Erich Wolfgang Korngold

  A composer-in-training I met suggested that this piece might work for the scene I had in mind.

  10. Symphonie espagnole in D minor, Op. 21 by Édouard Lalo

  I especially love the second and fifth movements, and have heard wonderful renditions for violin and guitar.

  11. Fairy-Tale Pictures for viola and piano, Op. 113 by Robert Schumann

  “My” instrument (the one I played from elementary school until I completed college) was the viola, so I continue to love pieces that showcase the viola’s deep, mellow sound.

  12. Sonata for Violin and Piano by César Franck

  This is the piece Remy learns in the master class and that she and Nicholas later play at home together.

  13. “On Green Dolphin Street”

  Originally by Bronislau Kaper; the piece is also famous for the jazz rendition recorded by Miles Davis in 1958. This is one of the pieces Nicholas and Yoni hear at the club where they hang out.

  14. And here are some of the great salsa bands Paula recommends to Nicholas:

  Joe Arroyo y la Verdad

  The Latin Brothers

  La Sonora Carruseles

  Read on

  * * *

  An Excerpt from Daphne Kalotay’s Russian Winter

  CHAPTER ONE

  The afternoon was so cold, so relentlessly gray, few pedestrians passed the long island of trees dividing Commonwealth Avenue, and even little dogs, shunted along impatiently, wore thermal coats and offended expressions. From a third-floor window on the north side of the street, above decorative copper balconies that had long ago turned the color of pale mint, Nina Revskaya surveyed the scene. Soon the sun—what little there was of it—would abandon its dismal effort, and all along this strip of well-kept brownstones, streetlamps would glow demurely.

  Nina tried to lean closer, to better glimpse the sidewalk below, but the tightness in her neck seized again. Since her chair could not move any nearer, she bore the pain and leaned closer still. Her breath left patches of fog on the glass. She hoped to spot her visitor ahead of time, so as to better prepare herself.

  Cold rose to her cheeks. Here came someone, but no, it was a woman, and too young. Her boot heels made a lonely clop-clop sound. Now the woman paused, seemed to
be searching for an address. Nina lost sight of her as she approached the door of the building. Surely this couldn’t be right—though now the doorbell buzzed. Stiff-backed in her wheelchair, Nina rolled slowly away from the window. In the foyer, frowning, she pressed the intercom. “Yes?”

  “Drew Brooks, from Beller.”

  These American girls, going around with men’s names.

  “Do come up.” Though aware of her accent, and of the cracking in her voice, Nina was always shocked to hear it. In her mind, in her thoughts, her words were always bright and clear. She rolled forward to unlatch and open the door, and listened for the elevator. But it was mounting footsteps that grew louder, closer, until they became “Drew,” in a slim wool coat, her cheeks rosy from cold, a leather satchel hanging from a strap diagonally across her shoulder. She was of good height, with a posture of self-respect, and thrust out her hand, still gloved.

  It has begun, Nina thought, with a slight drop of her heart; I have begun it. Knuckles wincing, she briefly grasped the outstretched hand. “Please come in.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Revskaya.”

  Miz, as if she were a secretary. “You may call me Nina.”

  “Nina, hello.” The girl gave a surprisingly confident smile, and creases fanned out from beside her eyes; Nina saw she was older than she had first thought. Her eyelashes were dark, her auburn hair tucked loosely behind her ears. “Lenore, our director of fine jewelry, is very sorry that she can’t be here,” she was saying, removing her gloves. “Both her children came down with something.”

 

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