Kathleen O'Connell

Kathleen O'Connell

... Penelope Fitzgerald ("The Blue Flower") -- I've read and enjoyed them all, but they've made me uneasy all the same.

But Fitzgerald is so discreet and meticulous and uses Novalis' journals and notes to structure the novel. And Novalis sort of gives the writer permission in a fragment that Fitzgerald quotes at the beginning of The Blue Flower:

"Novels arise out of the shortcomings of history."

(And elsewhere Novalis writes something like: where philososphy ends poetry must begin.)

The Romantic Generation did have something of an enthusiasm for turning the lives of historical personages into art, although I don't think one reads Schiller's "Maria Stuart" or "Don Carlos" to deepen one's understanding of Elizabethan England or Philip II's Spain. (And if you're like me, you toss them aside and cheerfully listen to Donizetti's "Maria Stuarda" and Verdi's "Don Carlos" instead. ) You might read them for a better understanding of the particular concerns of Schiller and his contemporaries, however, and I think that's at the heart of my concern. We can see now how Schiller's Mary Stuart is the projection of those concerns rather than a "true" depiction of the historical queen (who might in fact be rather shocked by the philosophical ideas held by Schiller and his contemporaries). But perhaps we can't see the ways in which a contemporary novelized biography is more the reflection of our own early 21st century notions than an accurate depiction of another person's consciousness. Think of all the novels, plays, and biographies that were written when we were in the grip of a now much discredited Freudianism.

That being said, Fitzgerald's lovely book is indeed a model of tact, and it's charming that someone even thought to write a book about Novalis targeted towards an English-speaking audience!

OK, I did a little thinking about this while I was traipsing around the city tonight. I didn't mean to imply that what I referred to as "inside" novelizations were entirely illegitimate. I think they're risky because they're speculative recreations of the subjective experience of a real person and they can be very powerful: once you've put the book down, it can be nearly impossible to dislodge the fictional version of that person from your mind forever after. But any number of celebrated authors have tried their hand at them: Susan Sontag ("The Volcano Lover"), Don Dellilo ("Libra"), William T. Vollman ("Europe Central"), Beryl Bainbridge ("The Birthday Boys"), Hilary Mantel ("A Place of Greater Safety" and "Wolf Hall"), Penelope Fitzgerald ("The Blue Flower") -- I've read and enjoyed them all, but they've made me uneasy all the same. (And in at least two cases the books take liberties with the documented facts.)

"Outside" novelizations are risky too, of course: there's always the possibility that they paint a distorted picture of real persons and events. But by shifting the point of view to a third party the novel at least replicates something that we all do consciously or unconsciously, which is to try to understand something about another person's life based on what we see them do and say.

At PNB, one example, Lucien Postlewaite screamed talent from the get-go. If he had joined ABT, he probably would have been carrying baskets of grapes for years.

Postlewaite screamed talent in the SAB workshop performances I saw him in, despite not being featured in one of the principal roles. (He was a side boy in "Divertimento No. 15. I still remember. He was that good. I really regret not having been able to watch that particular talent bloom.) It's hard to imagine that he'd be carrying baskets of grapes for long, even at ABT, but who knows.

Why was he not hired by NYCB ? Was it his choice to go to PNB?

I think this article from The Seattle P-I will answer your question.

Yes, I forgot Charlie. Nonetheless, substantial passages of the book are related in the first person by Burr. (The choice not to use the first person allows Vidal to elide those episodes in Burr's life where we don't know quite what went on, among other things; I rather doubt he employed the device of Charlie because he had any special qualms about getting inside Burr's head.) Another good one, "The Persian Boy," by Mary Renault, qualifies for your third person requirement, but not quite, because the Persian boy of the title is also a historical figure. Offhand I can't think of too many novels of the type we're discussing that would fulfill your requirement perfectly.....of which titles were you thinking?

Oh, some real potboilers! Robert Harris' wonderful Cicero novels (told from the point of view of his slave and secretary, Tiro) and Philip Kerr's "Dark Matter," in which Sir Issac Newton, as head of the Royal Mint, solves a murder mystery. I forget -- who narrates Vidal's "Lincoln"?

I'll have to put on my thinking cap for more.

At PNB, one example, Lucien Postlewaite screamed talent from the get-go. If he had joined ABT, he probably would have been carrying baskets of grapes for years.

Postlewaite screamed talent in the SAB workshop performances I saw him in, despite not being featured in one of the principal roles. (He was a side boy in "Divertimento No. 15. I still remember. He was that good. I really regret not having been able to watch that particular talent bloom.) It's hard to imagine that he'd be carrying baskets of grapes for long, even at ABT, but who knows.

As I probably mentioned upthread, it seems to me the whole point of choosing the novel form is to allow the writer the freedom to engage in such imaginings.( "Burr," which not only doesn't employ a fictional third party but assumes the first person, is a particular favorite of mine.)

I love "Burr" too! But isn't it told from the point of view of the fictional Charlie Schuyler? Charlie is a first person narrator, so we are indeed privy to his thoughts, but we only see Aaron Burr himself from the outside. Charlie's a lot of fun, but Burr is the real subject.

For me the issue is whether LeClerq's biography -- or any real person's biography -- is novelized from the "inside" or from the "outside." In the former, the story is told in either first or close third person from the point of view of the principal subject -- in this case LeClerq -- so that the author is to a greater or lesser degree imagining and depicting that subject's interior life. In the latter, the story is told from the point of view of someone other than the principal subject -- a person (usually fictional, or at least a "non-enitity") who observes the subject from the outside and narrates what he or she perceives to have taken place.

I think "inside" novelizations are pretty dicey, even if the subject is long-dead (as in the case of Colm Toibin's "The Master") but don't have too much trouble with the "outside" ones if they're done well.

(The earrings will be available for purchase and a portion of the proceeds will go to NYCB.)

This should be interesting -- earrings that are designed to be visible from a stage like the State Theater might be a little out of proportion for street wear.

Well, that depends on the street, doesn't it ... And it could be that they'll be scaled back for everyday use, much as fashion designers adjust their runway designs before they're manufactured and shipped out to department stores.

Per an interview with Marc Happel in the latest issue of "New York City Ballet News" the women's tutus will remain white and the men's tunics will remain black, to honor Karinska's originals. As to what's wrong with those originals: "The old costumes had reached a point where they had to be dealt with in some way, and Peter [Martins, NYCB Ballet Master in Chief] decoded that the next time the Company danced the ballet it would be with new costumes." Happel adds that "Swarovski was interested in working with the Company and we decided this was the perfect project for that partnership."

The tutus will have white satin bodices edged in gray and their net skirts will be topped by a plate of silver lace organza embellished with Swarovski crystals in gray, black, blue, and diamond tones. Happel names Dior's "Junon" dress as one of his original inspirations: "My hope was to create something that looks beautiful and classic with a modern edge." (Perhaps by coincidence, perhaps not, Dior is one of the sponsors of NYCB's Spring Gala, "À La Française," where the new costumes will make their debut.) Happel worked with jewellery maker Robert Sorrell on the women's crowns and former NYCB corps member Jamie Wolf -- herself now a jewellery designer -- on the earrings. (The earrings will be available for purchase and a portion of the proceeds will go to NYCB.)

There's a picture of Sara Mearns modelling one of the tutus on the issue's cover as well as reproduction of one of the costume sketches and a shot of a tutu-in-process inside, but they're "partial views" at best and it's hard to get a sense of what they'll really look like on stage.

Re: the men's tunics: Happel is ditching the original stretch fabric, and is replacing it with black velvet. The tunics -- which he's labelled "traditional" -- will have a front panel of pleated satin and a "strong horizontal neckline detailed with a row of Swaroski elements, which emphasizes the men's broad shoulders." The front panel will also be sprinkled with crystals to mirror the tutus.

Note: NYCB has apparently also partnered with OPI on a line of nail polish., featuring colors named (I kid you not) "You Callin' Me a Lyre," "Barre My Soul" and "My Pointe Exactly."

One might say that NYCB does wonderful riffs on Petipa -- "Theme and Variations," e.g., or "Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 2" -- but that its current attempts at putting on versions of actual Petipa ballets are a mixed bag, mostly because Martins couldn't tell a story in dance to save his life.

That's so hard to tell, though: "The Sleeping Beauty" rushes by at lightning speed, and the only time I can focus is during the projections, when there's no dancing.

Martins has no use for repose, and that's part of the problem. His Dance! Dance! Dance! version of "Swan Lake" is even more relentless. It's like someone cornering you at a party and talking your ear off; in their eagerness to tell you everything they lose the thread and end up telling you nothing.

re: NYCB I'm asking on how do they do Petipa. That's ballet first and uttermost for me, and then, other choreographers and works that I might enjoy.

Cristian -- what do you mean by "Petipa"?

I'm talking about putting a black tutu and convincing the audience about Odile's "femme fatale" role...I'm talking about DQ PDD, I'm talking about the grandeur of the Shades, Swans and Willis entrance and the regality of the Grand Pas from Raymonda and Paquita, and yes, including all the "after" renditions. I'm talking about feeling confortable playing princes and princesses, queens and kings, or feeling grand and shameless as THE diva of the ballet, in the case of the ballerina. I'm talking more of the XIX century aesthetic than a choreographer.

Well, NYCB isn't where one goes for a straight shot of 19th century aesthetic. Many Balanchine ballets evoke that aesthetic and comment on it, of course, although Shades and Willils specifically -- i.e., white acts full of ethereal, other-worldly women -- are notably absent. (Balanchine's one-act version of "Swan Lake" being the exception that proves the rule, maybe. And as one poster here pointed out a while back, that fierce brigade of white-clad corps women in "Symphony in Three Movements" does put one in mind of "space age willis.") I think I'd characterize its repertory as one that requires its ballerinas to project authority rather than portray queens.

re: NYCB

I'm asking on how do they do Petipa. That's ballet first and uttermost for me, and then, other choreographers and works that I might enjoy.

Cristian -- what do you mean by "Petipa"? Do you mean the ballets that he originally choreographed, however much revised -- e.g., Peter Martins' versions of "Sleeping Beauty" and "Swan Lake"? Or do you mean whatever bits of his original choreography that still survive in those ballets? Or do you mean a kind of choreographic style?

One might say that NYCB does wonderful riffs on Petipa -- "Theme and Variations," e.g., or "Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto No. 2" -- but that its current attempts at putting on versions of actual Petipa ballets are a mixed bag, mostly because Martins couldn't tell a story in dance to save his life. Many of the iconic bits of Petipa (or what we deem to be iconic Petipa) survive in his versions, but little in the way of narrative and theatrical energy. What's the point of putting on "Swan Lake" if you aren't going to break people's hearts with the story?

But even if they never did another "Sleeping Beauty" they'd still be a ballet company, and I'd say the same thing about MCB, too.

The point I was hoping to make was that neither dancing for Peter Martins nor exposure to contemporary dance leads inexorably to debased Balanchine, which I took to be the original poster's main concern.

The amount of "not ballet" in a ballet company's repertory is something the company, its AD, its audience, and its donors have to negotiate among themselves, and that process can take years.

Also someone whose first love in ballet is Balanchine, I worry when I look at the exclusively contemporary repertory of Morphoses, Lopez's previous project. And when I think of her years as a principal under Martins, I wonder what her preference is for how Balanchine is danced.

Well, Peter Boal spent his entire NYCB career dancing for Peter Martins and I think the general consensus is that he turned out OK. What's more, he left NYCB for a time to dance elsewhere and throughout his career took on roles created by choreographers who work well outside of the classical ballet idiom -- Molissa Fenley and Ulysses Dove, e.g. I'm guessing that Boal's exposure to contemporary rep -- both as dancer and AD -- is considerably more extensive that Lopez's.

http://www.nytimes.c...l?_r=1&ref=arts

And so, despite what Lopez says, Morphoses dies an ignominious death, unloved and unmourned by anyone . . .

Well, I'm mourning them, though I'm not convinced they're dead yet: here's what I posted in the MCB thread:

An MCB / Morphoses partnership -- I wonder how that would work? Morphoses still a laboratory for new dance run on a "curatorial" model, but now with a more-or-less stable roster of dancers recruited from MCB during the off season, with performances scheduled for venues outside of Florida? A run at Aspen, a week at the Joyce, etc ...

Deep in my heart-of-hearts I was hoping that Morphoses would somehow turn into the Lyon Opera Ballet. The "Bacchae" Luca Veggetti did for them was a misfire, but I'm grateful that it introduced me to some terrific dancers I didn't know (especially Frances Chiaverini).

From Daniel Watkins' article in the NYT:

Ms. Lopez currently runs Morphoses, a New York-based company she founded with the prominent choreographer Christopher Wheeldon in 2007. Mr. Wheeldon left the company three years later amid a falling-out with Ms. Lopez.

But Ms. Lopez said she wanted to consider some sort of merger or partnership of Morphoses and Miami City Ballet, and was open to including Wheeldon works in her new company.

An MCB / Morphoses partnership -- I wonder how that would work? Morphoses still a laboratory for new dance run on a "curatorial" model, but now with a more-or-less stable roster of dancers recruited from MCB during the off season, with performances scheduled for venues outside of Florida? A run at Aspen, a week at the Joyce, etc ...

Deep in my heart-of-hearts I was hoping that Morphoses would somehow turn into the Lyon Opera Ballet. The "Bacchae" Luca Veggetti did for them was a misfire, but I'm grateful that it introduced me to some terrific dancers I didn't know (especially Frances Chiaverini).

And of course Lopez is open to including Wheeldon's work in MCB's repertory -- doesn't every AD in possession of a budget for comissions find him or herself in want of a Wheeldon, a Ratmanksy, and an Elo?

One of the things I appreciated about all the recent Ballet Russe discussions were the "I was an extra for the Ballet Russe" stories -- all the young dancers who milled around in the crowds of Petroushka or held a spear in Scheherezade.

Getting way OT here -- one of the interesting things I learned reading "Chance and Circumstance," Carolyn Brown's memoir of her years with Merce Cunningham, was the fact that she supered for the Royal Ballet when it came to NY on tour. She did stints at the Metropolitan Opera and Radio City Music Hall too, and apparently came pretty close to dancing a supporting role in Tudor's Pillar of Fire for ABT. In the early days, at least, dancing for Merce didn't put a lot of food on the table.

I think that in staging these ballets companies should take account of their own histories and traditions. A Bolshoi style reconstruction of Coppelia would probably not work at NYCB, which does not preclude NYCB having a successful, and still quite traditional, Coppelia that does work (I think) and that the company has often danced very successfully.

And in fairness, they also have to take into account the kind of company that they actually are. ABT tours regularly, and its productions have to accommodate that fact. For instance, there are about a bazillion kids in the Garland Dance from NYCB's "Beauty" but only two in ABT's, where they look kind of lonely, frankly. I assume that that difference is at least partly driven by the reality of taking a show on the road: you can find and rehearse two stage-worthy local students wherever you go, but a dozen or more might be a tall order. NYCB, however, has a school full of kids it both wants and needs to get on stage. (Yes, ABT has a school now too -- and it will be interesting to see how that shapes future productions.)

Whether one likes it or not, ABT's story ballets are also vehicles to get international stars in front of an American public. They have to be constructed in a way that allows guest principals to bungee in for a performance or two with maximum efficiency. Could it put on the kind of "Let's spend a year going back to the original notation!" Giselle that PNB recently did?

Well, symphonies and opera companies also have to act as these kinds of "efficient" venues for stars, but the ensembles/productions in which they appear are usually (yes, with some glaring excpetions in opera) excellent. They've managed to make it work. And wouldn't it be great if ABT did take a year or two to do something so thoughtful and interesting? (Even Cirque du Soleil does that.) It's just sad to see, again and again, both contemporary and classical productions in big, mainstream ballet companies that are so often artistically impoverished: champagne budgets with beer tastes.

I agree -- there's absolutely NO reason why a bungee-ready production can't be good. It might be harder for that kind of production to serve as an exemplar of a particular style, however, since one of its goals has to be to make sure that it looks good on everyone who is likely to dance in it. A popular gripe among a certain class of opera fanatic is that there's no such thing as a "national" or "house" style anymore since everyone sings everywhere and major stars don't make a home with any one company any more like they did in the good old days. (With the possible exception of some of the small European regional theaters, I don't think there are many -- if any -- opera houses that work the way many major ballet companies do -- i.e., with a roster of artists who build their entire careers there and who are cast in the majority of the leading roles. They're pick up companies, in essence.)

As for doing something thoughtful and interesting, that's why they hired Ratmansky, no? Let's hope good things lie ahead.

I think that in staging these ballets companies should take account of their own histories and traditions. A Bolshoi style reconstruction of Coppelia would probably not work at NYCB, which does not preclude NYCB having a successful, and still quite traditional, Coppelia that does work (I think) and that the company has often danced very successfully.

And in fairness, they also have to take into account the kind of company that they actually are. ABT tours regularly, and its productions have to accommodate that fact. For instance, there are about a bazillion kids in the Garland Dance from NYCB's "Beauty" but only two in ABT's, where they look kind of lonely, frankly. I assume that that difference is at least partly driven by the reality of taking a show on the road: you can find and rehearse two stage-worthy local students wherever you go, but a dozen or more might be a tall order. NYCB, however, has a school full of kids it both wants and needs to get on stage. (Yes, ABT has a school now too -- and it will be interesting to see how that shapes future productions.)

Whether one likes it or not, ABT's story ballets are also vehicles to get international stars in front of an American public. They have to be constructed in a way that allows guest principals to bungee in for a performance or two with maximum efficiency. Could it put on the kind of "Let's spend a year going back to the original notation!" Giselle that PNB recently did?

I've been digging a bit on different approaches to the ballet before tonight's opening, so I went back to some of the biographies i own that have something to say on the subject. Alonso, Danilova and Kirkland are some of them. Particularly interesting are the scarce words of the latter on Balanchine's version. This is what she has to say:

"I also knew that Balanchine would adapt the concept to his vision of pure dance. The story and the characters would be encased in plastic. I made a plan with myself; I would leave the company before dancing in this production. Danilova's somewhat old-fashioned approach was to be wed to Balanchine's modern sensibility. I knew the inevitable outcome of such a marriage would be a stylistic travesty, a waltz of dolls. I had had enough of glorified triviality. His Coppelia was a major hit that summer without me. I had no regrets about not appearing in that one..."

Any thoughts from those familiar with this staging...?

I'd have more patience for Kirkland's scorn for "glorified triviality" if her and her husband's version of "Sleeping Beauty" weren't such a godawful, wrongheaded mess.

I guess we have to take it as it is. Just another choreographic assessment, probably one that's not very popular, although also probably with a few followers here and there.

Just as our own opinions. BT's "Favorite variation" and "Least favorite variation" have its good share of pieces that belong to both threads.

I don't think it's as simple as "I [do / don't] like [abc] variation because there's [so much / not enough] [xyz] in it." Kirkland's comment irks me because her version of "Sleeping Beauty" is in my opinion flawed in much the way that she claims NYCB's "Coppelia" is -- i.e., it's a "stylistic travesty." Example: Act II opens with Prince Florestan and his pals jumping around like jesters. It makes no dramatic sense -- Florestan is supposed to be a melancholy man apart searching for the ideal -- but Kirkland and her collaborators decided that the curtain must go up on some male pyrotechnics, and so it does. Many of the fairytale divertissements have been replaced by fairies doing what looks like "pure dance" to me.

I'm not annoyed that she found Balanchine wanting -- there are times when I find him wanting, too, and some of those times happen to be in Act III of NYCB's "Coppelia -- I'm annoyed because she's in a glass house throwing stones.

Man, that production (ABT's "Beauty") makes me intemperate ... grrr ... but enough.

I've been digging a bit on different approaches to the ballet before tonight's opening, so I went back to some of the biographies i own that have something to say on the subject. Alonso, Danilova and Kirkland are some of them. Particularly interesting are the scarce words of the latter on Balanchine's version. This is what she has to say:

"I also knew that Balanchine would adapt the concept to his vision of pure dance. The story and the characters would be encased in plastic. I made a plan with myself; I would leave the company before dancing in this production. Danilova's somewhat old-fashioned approach was to be wed to Balanchine's modern sensibility. I knew the inevitable outcome of such a marriage would be a stylistic travesty, a waltz of dolls. I had had enough of glorified triviality. His Coppelia was a major hit that summer without me. I had no regrets about not appearing in that one..."

Any thoughts from those familiar with this staging...?

I'd have more patience for Kirkland's scorn for "glorified triviality" if her and her husband's version of "Sleeping Beauty" weren't such a godawful, wrongheaded mess.

If you loved this film, you might want to stop reading right now because you won't like what I have to write.

You've been warned . . .

I saw it today and it's been a long time since I've seen so much pretension and self-regard on display in one movie. I would say the movie and the people in it were ripe for the Spinal Tap treatment but how do you parody something that has already descended into unknowing self-parody? Watching the screams, convulsions and twitches of the Bausch dancers and then listening to them talk in humorless, portentous tones, I found myself alternately stifling laughter and falling asleep (during the "dance" which alternates between the company dancers, the seniors and the teenagers.)

I could go on and on and on about particular aspects of Bausch's "dance" theater that I hated but here's my number one biggest gripe: Once you strip away the novelty of the dirt or the water, what are you left with? The actual dance content is thin and repetitive. Going forward, will new dancers make any kind of difference to this material? If so, I can't imagine the difference will have anything to do with actual physical movement. Any future innovation will come from determining who is the better shrieker or who can convulse better than their neighbor.

Again, no offense intended to anyone who loved this and who loves Pina Bausch . . . but I'm not one of you.

What! You don't love a dancer yelling "Dies ist Kalbfleish!" while she stuffs some veal cutlets into her pointe shoes, straps 'em on, and bourées around an industrial hellhole?

I know what you mean -- although I thought of Mike Meyers' "Sprockets" rather than "Spinal Tap" ("Dis is dee part of shprockets ver vee tahnz!)-- but I like Bausch and the film anyway.

I hope the company continues to get the fundraising support it needs to make a 3 week Lincoln Center season feasible for years to come. Two two-week seasons would be even better.

And considering the abbreviated seasons recently from Limon and Graham, a long run like this seems even more important.

It's admittedly an aficionado's perspective, but there's nothing like marinating in a company during a multi-week season. Other than Ailey, I can't think of another modern dance troupe that reliably mounts one at some New York City venue year after year. Am I missing anyone? Pilobolus? I'm not sure there's anyone else who reliably gets even a one-week NY season year-in-and-year-out. Even a week in NYC costs a bundle to do. And ABT's incredible shrinking City Center seasons have me in a real funk -- that's where I enjoy watching the company the most. (Although I'd love watching them at NYST even more ... but that's a matter for a different thread.)

Any reports on how the company looks in performance at the David H. Koch Theater (better know at the NY State Theater) at Lincoln Center?

I was at the Wednesday 3/21 performance, and saw "Junction," "3 Epitaphs," "House of Cards," and "Mercuric Tidings." I think both the company and Taylor's choreography look splendid in their new NYC digs. I was a little concerned that the larger confines -- both stage and hall -- might drain the life out of at least some of the works (the way the Met's towering vastness can, IMO). But no, everything on the program looked vivid and bristling with energy -- even tiny, loopy "3 Epitaphs." "Mercuric Tidings" and "House of Cards" especially really bloomed in the space.

I've never grown accustomed to the way dance looks at City Center. I'm one of those people who likes to watch dance at least one level up from the orchestra (or from the back of the orchestra if there's no up to be had). City Center's hall is so shallow that even from the Grand Tier (which I don't like) or the front of the Mezzanine (which I like better) the dancing looks oddly foreshortened and the stage looks like a postage stamp even though it's not that small. You're closer to the dancers, yes, but the angle of view strikes me as an unhappy one. It's like peering down into a crevasse rather than gazing out over a vista. In NYST, you are further from the dancers, but because the hall is deeper the angle of view lets the choreography breathe, even from on high. So, I for one, am thrilled by the move.

The theater was comfortably full -- maybe it's the novelty of a Lincoln Center season coupled with the Atrium's ability to push discount tickets close to the performance date. The third and fourth rings were closed, but the company always closed off City Center's balcony, so this seemed like business as usual. (On weeknights during a PTDC run, City Center's huge front and rear Mezzanine could seem distressingly underpopulated even so.)

Like everyone else on the planet I wish the company could afford live music, and when I win Lotto I will make sure that that happens. But I wasn't as troubled by the recorded music as I expected to be from the press reports. It sounded odd at first because the sound was coming straight at me head on rather than up from out of the pit. I was surprised at how disconcerting that was -- but I guess thirty plus years of attending ballet and opera performances in that particular venue with live music has conditioned me to expect a particular sonic landscape and my ears were caught off guard by the change. And of course recorded music never sounds as richly dimensional as live music, even in NYST's less-than-ideal acoustics. (Although these were admittedly improved by the recent renovation -- the bassoon always seemed to be going "braaap-braaap-braaap" somewhere behind my left ear, and that just doesn't happen anymore.) But once I got used to it, the fact that the music was recorded slipped to the back of my consciousness. In any event, PTDC has been using recorded music for some time now -- so it's just a fact of life.

I hope the company continues to get the fundraising support it needs to make a 3 week Lincoln Center season feasible for years to come. Two two-week seasons would be even better.

They invent the inner lives of imagined people.

Well, yes, using the known facts and historical background as a basis.

Ah, Irving Stone. Not the world's greatest writer by any means, but he introduced me to a lot of history. I remember particularly enjoying his spirited defense of Jessie Benton Fremont. And "Lust for Life" is a good book, full stop.

I think I read "The Agony and the Ecstasy" something like four times between the ages of 12 and 14. Until I went to college, every thing I knew about Andrew Jackson I learned from "The President's Lady."