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3.55 AVERAGE
3.55 AVERAGE
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
A novel about a Black musical prodigy in the late eighteenth century and the early nineteenth. This novel is at its best when presenting the POV of a Black man navigating the ignorant, prejudiced, and dangerous shoals of white European culture during the late Enlightenment, when Revolution was in the air. The novel is really more about George Bridgetower's father than it is about him, especially early on, when GB was a child prodigy.
One of the best parts about this book was the light cast on creative and innovative people of color at the time. White historians peer past Dumas, for instance, as well as others, but Dongala brings them forward, demonstrating their place and their contributions to the creative life of the time. Also, the novel provides some insight into some of the ways a Black individual had to deal with maneuvering in white culture.
Some, as I said.
I wish my French was good enough to read this in the original, as I don't know whether to attribute my problems with the book to the translation or not. I really wanted to like it more than I actually did--my reading went in fits and starts, despite the author's truly impressive research.
Maybe because of the research? It seemed that the author was determined that every smidge of research was going to go into this work, so we get long catalogues of what everyone is wearing, and exactly what the streets of Paris looked like, and the layout of the Opera, and long lists of arcane pieces of music shoehorned in apparently to get them in there willynilly.
The narrative voice seemed to be all over the place, sometimes up close and personal with respect to Bridgetower's father, other times vanishing to be replaced by those neutral catalogues of facts. I did not think that a novel set against the simmering Paris on the verge, and into, the French Revolution could be quite so stiff, but there it was. I also found the narrative voice's explorations of the inner thoughts of certain famous figures to be somewhat problematical.
The clunky sentences and awkwardness, the errors (like not capitalizing German nouns when quoting German), etc, might be due to the translator, but at any rate, though the subject is intriguing and the setting a complex one, I wished that the book did them better justice.
Copy provided by Netgalley
One of the best parts about this book was the light cast on creative and innovative people of color at the time. White historians peer past Dumas, for instance, as well as others, but Dongala brings them forward, demonstrating their place and their contributions to the creative life of the time. Also, the novel provides some insight into some of the ways a Black individual had to deal with maneuvering in white culture.
Some, as I said.
I wish my French was good enough to read this in the original, as I don't know whether to attribute my problems with the book to the translation or not. I really wanted to like it more than I actually did--my reading went in fits and starts, despite the author's truly impressive research.
Maybe because of the research? It seemed that the author was determined that every smidge of research was going to go into this work, so we get long catalogues of what everyone is wearing, and exactly what the streets of Paris looked like, and the layout of the Opera, and long lists of arcane pieces of music shoehorned in apparently to get them in there willynilly.
The narrative voice seemed to be all over the place, sometimes up close and personal with respect to Bridgetower's father, other times vanishing to be replaced by those neutral catalogues of facts. I did not think that a novel set against the simmering Paris on the verge, and into, the French Revolution could be quite so stiff, but there it was. I also found the narrative voice's explorations of the inner thoughts of certain famous figures to be somewhat problematical.
The clunky sentences and awkwardness, the errors (like not capitalizing German nouns when quoting German), etc, might be due to the translator, but at any rate, though the subject is intriguing and the setting a complex one, I wished that the book did them better justice.
Copy provided by Netgalley
I received a copy of this to give an honest review.
The premise of this book intrigued me, as it follows the life of George Augustus Bridgetower, a black violinist who was well renowned in his time of the late 18th century progressing into the 19th century. He meets and befriends all sorts of celebrated names--Beethoven taking precedence over all, although Mozart is an unknowing competitor--and there will be scads of celebrities for the reader to note. The descriptions of how different countries reacted toward people of colour, and the thin protection a rising star was afforded from prejudices were interesting.
Alas, this book focused quite a deal more on his father than what I anticipated, and the beginning portion of the book is a bit of a trek to get through, while the ending comes on abruptly. We have followed Bridgetower from the age of nine only up to his twenties, although he lives into his eighties. I would have enjoyed being able to dig more into Bridgetower's life, and getting deep into it. Who was he outside of music? What drove him on and kept him going? What hobbies did he have, apart from reading? I suppose the documents that could flesh that out are scant, but the book is a decently quick read that can help create a thirst to want to know more about this remarkable man.
The premise of this book intrigued me, as it follows the life of George Augustus Bridgetower, a black violinist who was well renowned in his time of the late 18th century progressing into the 19th century. He meets and befriends all sorts of celebrated names--Beethoven taking precedence over all, although Mozart is an unknowing competitor--and there will be scads of celebrities for the reader to note. The descriptions of how different countries reacted toward people of colour, and the thin protection a rising star was afforded from prejudices were interesting.
Alas, this book focused quite a deal more on his father than what I anticipated, and the beginning portion of the book is a bit of a trek to get through, while the ending comes on abruptly. We have followed Bridgetower from the age of nine only up to his twenties, although he lives into his eighties. I would have enjoyed being able to dig more into Bridgetower's life, and getting deep into it. Who was he outside of music? What drove him on and kept him going? What hobbies did he have, apart from reading? I suppose the documents that could flesh that out are scant, but the book is a decently quick read that can help create a thirst to want to know more about this remarkable man.
George Bridgetower was an 18th Century violin virtuoso and the son of a Black man from the Caribbean. He was a child prodigy who entertained Parisienne high society on the eve of the French Revolution. He then fled to London where he was a court favorite of the Prince of Wales.
When he moved to Vienna, he became the friend and collaborator of Ludwig Van Beethoven. The two composed the "Sonata Mulattica" together, but Beethoven later changed the name to the "Kreutzer Sonata" when the two had a falling out.
Emmanuel Dongala's new historical novel brings life to this forgotten story. He makes the most of what is known about Bridgetower's life, telling a fascinating story of race, class, creativity, and friendship in 18th Century Europe.
When he moved to Vienna, he became the friend and collaborator of Ludwig Van Beethoven. The two composed the "Sonata Mulattica" together, but Beethoven later changed the name to the "Kreutzer Sonata" when the two had a falling out.
Emmanuel Dongala's new historical novel brings life to this forgotten story. He makes the most of what is known about Bridgetower's life, telling a fascinating story of race, class, creativity, and friendship in 18th Century Europe.
Sonata per un mulattico lunatico.
This is the dedication that Ludwig van Beethoven affectionately gave to his Violin Sonata No. 9, a piece deemed not only too hard to play, but also “outrageously unintelligible” and an affront to music, by contemporary virtuosic violinists. Due to a falling out, Beethoven ultimately rededicated the piece, leaving its original dedicatee largely lost to history.
The Bridgetower Sonata uses what is little known about George Augustus Polgreen Bridgetower to reconstruct a vivid imagining of his life leading up to his extraordinary friendship, and subsequent loss thereof, with Beethoven. Beginning with a slow, almost dry, descriptive chronology of George’s childhood and escalating to a swift telling of his early adult friendship with Beethoven, the novel provides an animated exploration not only of late 18th century race relations in Europe but also of the striking divisions in class that are coming to a head vis-à-vis the French Revolution. In a telling encounter with none other than Chevalier de Saint-Georges, perhaps more commonly remembered to the contemporary public as “Black Mozart,” George’s father John Bridgetower of West Indian origin, grapples with explaining that he is, in fact, George’s biological father. As described by the omniscient narrator’s divination into John’s thoughts, Europeans understood mulattos to be the by-product of a White father and mother of African origin. George’s dark skinned father and eastern European mother in itself challenged the chronicled systems of race in Europe at that time.
While perhaps the reconstructed meetings with iconic historical figures such as Thomas Jefferson, Angelo Soliman, Marquis de Lafayette, Théroigne de Mericourt, and Olympes de Gouges may be pure fantasy, they do help to further ground the story in its historical time period, providing essential context on how science, government, and civil code shaped the genre of music that is now loosely categorized as “Classical.” The cumulative result is the construction of a lively society of elitist figureheads bumping elbows, emphasizing the possibly factual notion that revolutionary-era people, at least in the upper classes, were largely “renaissance men” (and women)-- highly cultured and thoroughly educated to a degree beyond our current imaginings.
As a violinist myself, I was enraptured by the descriptions of musical patronage and the coming together of notable musicians such as Mozart, Beethoven, Kreutzer, Haydn, and more. The rich narrative made me crave recordings of their compositions and has found me listening to an abundance of classical music in its wake.
As a whole, The Bridgetower Sonata is a delightful narrative helping to bring a forgotten story of a talented mulatto musician to light. While it explored interesting aspects of race in a historical context, it largely remained preserved in that historical bubble with little reflection on the current state of society and race relations. Similarly, the divide described between the old-school proponents of baroque music versus the latter-day proponents of classical period music easily draws parallels to current evolutions in popular music, but Dongala prefers to let history lay, allowing readers to draw their own conclusions. The book is by no means life-changing, but it's a thoroughly entertaining read, particularly for admirers of classical music and revolutionary history.
This is the dedication that Ludwig van Beethoven affectionately gave to his Violin Sonata No. 9, a piece deemed not only too hard to play, but also “outrageously unintelligible” and an affront to music, by contemporary virtuosic violinists. Due to a falling out, Beethoven ultimately rededicated the piece, leaving its original dedicatee largely lost to history.
The Bridgetower Sonata uses what is little known about George Augustus Polgreen Bridgetower to reconstruct a vivid imagining of his life leading up to his extraordinary friendship, and subsequent loss thereof, with Beethoven. Beginning with a slow, almost dry, descriptive chronology of George’s childhood and escalating to a swift telling of his early adult friendship with Beethoven, the novel provides an animated exploration not only of late 18th century race relations in Europe but also of the striking divisions in class that are coming to a head vis-à-vis the French Revolution. In a telling encounter with none other than Chevalier de Saint-Georges, perhaps more commonly remembered to the contemporary public as “Black Mozart,” George’s father John Bridgetower of West Indian origin, grapples with explaining that he is, in fact, George’s biological father. As described by the omniscient narrator’s divination into John’s thoughts, Europeans understood mulattos to be the by-product of a White father and mother of African origin. George’s dark skinned father and eastern European mother in itself challenged the chronicled systems of race in Europe at that time.
While perhaps the reconstructed meetings with iconic historical figures such as Thomas Jefferson, Angelo Soliman, Marquis de Lafayette, Théroigne de Mericourt, and Olympes de Gouges may be pure fantasy, they do help to further ground the story in its historical time period, providing essential context on how science, government, and civil code shaped the genre of music that is now loosely categorized as “Classical.” The cumulative result is the construction of a lively society of elitist figureheads bumping elbows, emphasizing the possibly factual notion that revolutionary-era people, at least in the upper classes, were largely “renaissance men” (and women)-- highly cultured and thoroughly educated to a degree beyond our current imaginings.
As a violinist myself, I was enraptured by the descriptions of musical patronage and the coming together of notable musicians such as Mozart, Beethoven, Kreutzer, Haydn, and more. The rich narrative made me crave recordings of their compositions and has found me listening to an abundance of classical music in its wake.
As a whole, The Bridgetower Sonata is a delightful narrative helping to bring a forgotten story of a talented mulatto musician to light. While it explored interesting aspects of race in a historical context, it largely remained preserved in that historical bubble with little reflection on the current state of society and race relations. Similarly, the divide described between the old-school proponents of baroque music versus the latter-day proponents of classical period music easily draws parallels to current evolutions in popular music, but Dongala prefers to let history lay, allowing readers to draw their own conclusions. The book is by no means life-changing, but it's a thoroughly entertaining read, particularly for admirers of classical music and revolutionary history.