Solomon Moiseyevich Volkov (born 17 April 1944 in Uroteppa, Tadzhik SSR) is a Russian journalist and musicologist. He is best known for Testimony, which was published in 1979 following his emigration from the Soviet Union in 1976. He claimed that the book was the memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovich, as related to himself.
Ah, I read this long ago - borrowed from the town centre library which was located at a convenient middish point between school and home. At the time I listened to a fair bit of Shostakovich, mostly symphonies and thought he was the bee's knees but this is the kind of thing that happens to you, or maybe just me, when one listens to Radio 3 as it seeks to relentlessly educate you and maybe I don't want to be learnt to appreciate Harrison Birdwhistle and so eventually I found that my diet of Bach and Buxtehude was mostly sufficient for my needs, supplemented by occasional gorging on Beethoven and Kurt Weil because it seems that 'B' is not the only letter that surnames need begin with
Anyway, getting on to the subject of this review I'll save a discussion on the location of libraries for another day this is a moderately mysterious work, a guy called Solomon Volkov popped up in the USA with a manuscript claiming that the work was the memoirs of the composer Dmitri Shostakovich, but given that no autographed manuscript or notes of conversations have appeared to date there has been some scepticism over the claim. The composer conveniently had allegedly urged that publication be delayed until after his own death, and one notes in passing that this meant that Dmitri Dmitrivich was unable to wave his fist and say 'stop, whipper-snapper, I'm gonna drag you through every court I can appeal to'. But one can then hold a variety of views about it - from that it is the true and unadulterated words of the composer or a fiction cooked up out of Leningrad gossip and public knowledge, to everything between those two points. If reading it sounds too much like hard work somebody did make a film out of it too, I remember that I did watch it, but don't recall the contents.
The work contains some interesting vignettes such as Marshall Tukhachevsky on the eve of the Great Purge wishing that he was just a violinist sawing away at his instrument, suggesting a desire to get away from the developing political situation - the composer was a bit sniffy about the expressed wish, feeling it was a derogation of responsibility. Though probably he could only have saved himself by becoming a fiddler in a factory band in Alma-Ata, well probably not.
The main point as with possibly 72.763% of my reviews is as Montaigne observed, you start drinking white wine, then you became a fan of red, at somepoint you wander back to white. When Decartes said cognito ego sum he found in his ability to think and in absolute faith in God fixed points. Yet when I live within myself, like Montaigne, I find a shifting mass of change, what was once significant is later forgot.
This is an insightful look into the nature, history, and past of one of classical music's most mysterious figures. Volkov's picture of Shostakovich is bright and forthcoming, and after the reading of Testimony one can walk away feeling as if they have come to know Shostakovich a great deal better. Though there is much controversy surrounding this publication, for whatever reason, I feel it has great literary and entertaining merit. Four stars for the composer's lack of interest in the music of Milhaud.
Although there is some controversy over the role Volkov played in compiling these memoirs, the book is a work of moral genius. While Testimony includes some music history, its real subject seems to be the moral challenge of Stalinism. I鈥檝e never yet encountered a Volkov book I didn鈥檛 like, but this was one of my favorites. I underlined so many passages that I began to think I should only underline the very few passages that weren鈥檛 interesting to me.
Can music attack evil? Can it make men stop and think? Can it cry out and thereby draw men鈥檚 attention to various vile acts to which he has become accustomed? to the things he passes without any interest?
Shostakovich spent a large part of his creative life in the oppressive environment with which Stalin blanketed the Soviet Union. That he managed to endure is an impressive accomplishment; that he managed to write such passionate, uplifting and above all humanistic music is a real testament to his fortitude and his genius both as a man and as a composer. The answer to the above question he posed is, given his example, a resounding 鈥榊es鈥�.
This memoir, although told in first person and detailing only what Shostakovich himself actually said, would not have been possible without its editor, Sergei Volkov, whose patient note taking throughout innumerable talks with the then-dying composer allowed him to amass its amazing collection of anecdotes, memories and feelings. Jotting down quotes in pencilled shorthand since Shostakovich, like everyone in the Soviet Union at that time, distrusted tape recorders, what emerges if a thoroughly chilling account of what it was like to like in a thoroughly authoritarian society in which whether or not the 鈥榞reat leader and teacher鈥� liked your work was literally a question of life and death.
Shostakovich felt a strong sense of affection and respect for Meyerhold and for Tukhaschevsky: the former a theatrical impresario, the later a military leader. They both were killed (the euphemistic term is 鈥榙isappeared鈥�) in Stalin鈥檚 purges of the late 1930s, at which time Shostakovich was under a cloud after the Great Leader鈥檚 distaste for his opera Lady Macbeth lead to an article 鈥楳uddle Instead of Music鈥�. The nebulous and meaningless term 鈥榝ormalism鈥� was later applied to the work of Shostakovich and that of many others in a draconian clamping down on individualistic expression and the imposition of a moribund, grey, soul-stultifying orthodoxy during which one went into bathrooms and turned on taps to whisper jokes to one another, so real were the fears of denunciation and the secret police.
The glories of Shostakovich鈥檚 many symphonies, string quartets, operas and song cycles is a true testament to his strength of artistic integrity to have been produced during such a chillingly totalitarian period in the history of his country, which has for far too long suffered from the knout of authoritarian power and arbitrary rule all in the name of keeping the current power holders in power: a situation which, sad to say, exists in all its terrifying awfulness up to today. (Yes, I mean you, Mr. Putin!)
Along the way, Shostakovich鈥檚 observations are, to say the least, quite pithy and pointed. Scriabin knew as much about orchestration as a pig knows about oranges. Prokofiev was virtually impossible to become friends with since he was always looking to please the higher ups. He had the soul of a goose and always went around with a chip on his shoulder. Rimsky-Korsakov had to wait for Tchaikovsky to die before he could compose opera, so daunted was he by his rival鈥檚 apparent mastery. Stravinsky鈥檚 constructions in his compositions stick out like scaffolding: there鈥檚 no flow, no natural bridges.Thus, much of his The Rite of Spring was designed for external effect and lacks substance. He did admire Glazunov鈥檚 consummate mastery of music, as well as his ability to play the piano while holding a fat cigar between his fingers. The 1948 resolution against formalism was 鈥榯he delirium of a purple cow.鈥�
His admiration of Glazunov, Chekhov, Gogol, Sollertinsky, Zoshchenko, Akhmatova and Mussorgsky is offset by the disdain he expressed for Mayakovsky, Eisenstein, Sakharov, Tarkovsky and Solzhenitsyn. Truly, Shostakovich was his own man, and made up his mind independently, largely on a moral basis: was this person good and kind, or was he a toady or somehow dishonest in the persona he presented to the world?
The story is not without humour. Explaining how he was not always adverse to participating in the national Russian addiction to alcohol in general and vodka in particular, he comments 鈥楢t a certain period in my life, I was greatly liberated by expanding my knowledge in that fascinating area.鈥� On the relationship of talent to money, Shostakovich was told that 鈥楾alent is like money: either you have it or you don鈥檛', to which he replied: 鈥楬owever,if you have no money, you may get some later, while if you have no talent, you will never get any.鈥�
I鈥檝e just watched the 1987 movie by Tony Palmer based on this book, with Ben Kingsley as Shostakovich, and highly recommend it as a two and half hour extravaganza presenting a vibrant collage of images and music.
This book is a truly remarkable testament to the integrity of a great artist living in a truly horrifying time. Highly recommended.
I give Shostakovich himself 5 stars, but I can only give this 3 because of the sketchy circumstances under which it was "written." Really I have no idea what the truth is at this point, but certainly enough people have talked about it. The idea is that Solomon Volkov may have made up a lot of it, but even if it was stuff Shostakovich said, it was at the very end of his life when he was really cranky and in a lot of pain. I would say depressing stuff I didn't mean in that case, too. So although it's an interesting read from a historical debate standpoint, don't take it as the gospel truth from The Man Himself.
Dignity, Integrity, and Artistic Genius Under Tyranny A Review Dmitri Shostakovich's Testimony: The Memoirs of Dmitri Shostakovich, edited by Solomon Volkov November 10, 2021
We Americans have no idea of what it鈥檚 like to live in tyranny, true tyranny, in a country where rule of law and due process do not exist, where authorities and their secret police justify anything, where you can stand accused for anything, where neighbor informs on neighbor, where dissent is a death sentence, where fear of surveillance, arrest, and disappearance at any time hangs over everyone. Composer Dmitri Shostakovich, his friends and family, and his Soviet comrades lived through these conditions, through what stands as the longest and most brutal tyranny of the 20th century, through unimaginable suffering in the systematic eradication of millions of innocent citizens in the system known as 鈥渢he Gulag.鈥� Few people can read through Solzhenitsyn鈥檚 , the chronicle of this system, before succumbing to the stomach-churning, mind-bending cruelty that human beings are capable of, and having to put it aside. Reading about it is one thing: living through it quite another.
Dmitri Shostakovich is one of the great composers of all time. Although he worked in the worst of circumstances, often in fear of his life, he enjoyed international success and adulation for many of his compositions. Some of those works however, got him into deep trouble with the Soviet authorities. At times his works were banned. Other times they were praised as the greatest of any. So much of his music is powerfully poignant, filled with emotion that words cannot express. He鈥檚 an extremely complex and interesting character, without doubt a musical genius but also a man of deep compassion, dignity, and integrity. I read Volkov鈥檚 presentation of Shostakovich's recollections because of how much I and my family love his music. The copy I read was passed from my father to my mother and then to me. The 5th Symphony was one of my top five symphonies when first began to follow and collect classical music, but I鈥檝e also grown to love dozens of other works of his.
Volkov is a Russian musicologist and journalist who met Shostakovich as a youth, copied down his conversations with the composer in the last years of his life, and edited them into this book which is written in Shostakovich's voice. The book consists of Volkov鈥檚 preface and intro, then his presentation of Shostakovich鈥檚 memoirs which are divided into eight unnumbered sections that are not chronological and a somewhat random order of topics, events, and people; it includes two sections of black and white photos, and ends with a chronology of his compositions, titles, awards followed by an index.
The book was published (1979) only four years after Shostakovich died and so became the first book to reframe western perceptions of who Shostakovich was and how he thought鈥攆rom being a good communist and advocate of Soviet social realism to being a tormented anti-communist and secret dissident composer. His stories tell how he pretended to go along with the Party and authorities and often was forced into saying and doing things at odds with his values, but all of it was all done only to survive the times and maintain some sense of artistic integrity and human dignity.
From its inception, the uncensored views of Shostakovich presented by Volkov in Testimony created controversy and engendered an entire culture of Shostakovich interpretation 鈥� who really was he, what does his music really say, what did he actually think, etc. Both of Shostakovich鈥檚 children, Maxim and Galya, as well as dozens of musicians, conductors, composers, and friends of the composer vouch for the book鈥檚 accuracy and say the book not only reflects his true feelings and thoughts but is true to his humor, character, and wit. Subsequent books have presented further research into Shostakovich鈥檚 life, corroborating much of Volkov鈥檚 book. Elizabeth Taylor鈥檚 extensive presents the memories of people who knew Shostakovich, and Ian MacDonald鈥檚 outstanding is the most extensive reevaluation based on the revelations from Testimony. Other books worth mentioning are Stephan Johnson鈥檚 lovely tells how Shostakovich鈥檚 music helped him with his struggle with bipolar disorder and Glickman鈥檚 .
By the 1990s, two camps had formed in reaction to Testimony, the revisionist camp which took the book as the true, uncensored Shostakovich, and the anti-revisionist camp which went out of its way to debunk, discredit, or otherwise attack Volkov and the authenticity of Testimony and instead uphold the official Soviet view of him as a loyal communist. The latter camp consists primarily of a handful of western academic musicologists, chief among them Richard Taruskin, Laurel Fay, and Malcolm Hamrick Brown, who have gone to great lengths to counter how Shostakovich presented himself when he wasn't censored by the Soviet system (as he does in Testimony). Needless to say, the anti-revisionists come out of western academic Marxist-socialist Soviet sympathizer culture which, consciously or not, influences the views they expound. The revisionists consist of Soviet dissident culture and those who, like Shostakovich, clandestinely resisted and later openly resisted (like Solzhenitsyn and Sakharov) the Soviet system. The book that most thoroughly upholds the authenticity of Testimony and delivers a final blow to the machinations of these few academics is Ho and Feofanov's massively researched and meticulous presentation . So well presented as Ho & Feofanov's book is, with so much evidence by so many observers, that the only thing that followed it was silence.
Unfortunately anti-revisionist views continue to mar the landscape of Shostakovich interpretation so those who play, listen to, and love Shostakovich's music need to be aware that contained within liner notes, articles, books, as well as films, lurk misrepresentations and misinformation about his life. For example, the oft-cited line in response to his 5th symphony, "A Soviet artist's creative response to just criticism" was not his, but a journalist's. Another example is the anti-revisionist camp's (particularly Fay's) downplaying of Shostakovich's sympathy for the suffering caused by anti-Semitism, making the works he wrote in solidarity with Jews and Jewish culture sound trivial. There are numerous attempts to paint Shostakovich as a loyal communist since he wrote pro-Soviet film music scores when those who do so are unable to acknowledge an artist tortured and forced by a totalitarian system to "produce or else." What lengths would you go to if your and your family's lives were on the line? Not figuratively, but literally, as Shostakovich watched dozens of his friends and colleagues arrested and disappear into the Gulag.
Back to the book, there鈥檚 really no structure to the way Volkov presents Shostakovich鈥檚 recollections; the topics drift from one to another, often with sustained focus on a single individual or a particular event in his life. Shostakovich mostly likes telling stories about others in order to reflect on himself. Along the way you meet many of the great artists and writers of Russia and the Soviet era, some which he praises, others which he criticizes: Chekov, Gogol, Pushkin, Glazunov, Prokofiev, Glinka, Meyerhold, Sollertinsky, Rostropovich, Zoshchenko, Yudina, Akhmatova, Rimsky-Korsakov, Mussorgsky, Sakharov, Tarkovsky, Mayakovski, Wienberg, and Solzhenitsyn. Throughout, 鈥渢he leader and teacher鈥� himself, Joseph Stalin, is presented in numerous anecdotes as a complete uneducated buffoon, a mad man, a mindless, self-absorbed butcher, without a whit of feeling for anything or anybody, a man so feared that when he 鈥済ave people the eye鈥� they literally soiled their pants. Shostakovich gives one poignant example he witnessed. One of the most interesting facts to emerge from Shostakovich鈥檚 narrative is the unique regard Stalin held for him and his genius, a favoritism that kept him from suffering the fate of many of his friends and allowed him to keep composing.
In many parts of the book, Shostakovich鈥檚 humor comes through as he recounts incidents and stories, often sardonic and mocking of the situation鈥檚 absurdity or the foolishness of those involved. One of the last stories in the book is the hilarious recounting of his involvement in the competition to rewrite the Soviet national anthem, of how he and four others were called into Stalin鈥檚 presence as their compositions were evaluated by the Great Gardener. Ridiculousness abounds.
In the introduction, Volkov identifies Shostakovich as a Russian yurodivy, a jester-trickster type who 鈥渉as the gift to see and hear what others know nothing about. But he tells the world about his insights in an intentionally paradoxical way, in code. He plays the fool, while actually being a persistent exposer of evil and injustice鈥� (xxv). The role of the yurodivye is to provide concealed criticism and protest in times when overt criticism gets you executed. But it鈥檚 clear that Shostakovich always held genuine compassion for the common people, for the innocent and oppressed, for those who suffered at the hands of the Soviet regime. So many instances of his compassion appear in the book such as his love for his family, the way he helped many of his friends and colleagues, his favorite poem by Vladimir Mayakovski, 鈥淜indness to Horses,鈥� and the fearless compassion he demonstrated towards Jews in his 13th Symphony, Babi Yar, and his vocal work From Jewish Folk Poetry.
A short list of words that describe Shostakovich and his memoirs in this book are irony, sarcasm, secrecy, mockery, praise, scorn, criticism, dark humor, grim, anxiety, dread, sensitivity, compassion, kindness, fearlessness, contradiction, wit, calculating intelligence, social aptitude, musical genius, literary competence, survival, torment, perseverance. No list can describe the man's complexity of character.
There鈥檚 much to enjoy in Volkov鈥檚 presentation of this great composer, itself an excellent supplement to listening to Shostakovich鈥檚 music. But, by all means, listen and get to know his music. I recommend symphonies 1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13 (particularly 5, 7, 8, 10 , 11), all the string quartets, the op. 87 preludes and fugues for piano, the six concertos, his vocal works The Execution of Stepan Rizan and Suite on Verses by Michelangelo Buonarroti, and, and鈥擮MG鈥攕o much to discover. There鈥檚 also plenty of excellent YouTube videos explaining and performing his works. Enjoy!
I've read this one a few times. Astonishing chronicle of the life of a great artist during the Soviet-era. I know the book has been called into question in recent years (did Shostakovich really write it, or did Solomon Volkov make a lot of it up?) - regardless, the stories are shocking (and many of them ARE documented, so...).
Mitte niiv玫rd 艩ostakovit拧i elulugu, vaid jutustus Venemaast 艩ostakovit拧i eluajal.
"M玫nikord r盲盲gitakse v玫i kirjutatakse, et Saksa surmalaagrite juhatajad armastasid ja m玫istsid Bachi ja Mozarti. Ja nii edasi. Et nad valasid Schuberti muusikat kuulates pisaraid. Ma ei usu seda. See on vale, mille ajakirjanikud on v盲lja m玫elnud. Ma ei ole kohanud 眉htegi timukat, kes oleks kunsti t玫eliselt m玫istnud. Kuid kust on p盲rit need igavesed lood? Miks ihkavad inimesed, et t眉ranni osutuksid kunsti "patroonideks" ja "armastajateks"? Ma arvan, et sellel on mitu p玫hjust. Esiteks on t眉rannid nurjatud, targad ja kavalad inimesed, ja teavad, et nende r盲spaele t枚枚le tuleb kasuks, kui neid peetakse kultuurseteks ja harituteks, mitte v玫hiklikeks matsideks. J盲盲gu matsiks teo toimepanijad, lihtsad etturid. Need etturid on oma matslikkuse olemise 眉le uhked. Kuid generalissimus peab olema alati ja k玫iges asjatundja. Sellise asjatundja heaks t枚枚tab tohutu masinav盲rk. Kirjutab temast, kirjutab talle k玫nesid ja raamatuid. Suur meeskond eksperte valmistab tema jaoks ettekandeid mis tahes k眉simuse kohta, mis tahes teemal. Soovite olla spetsialist arhitektuurivaldkonnas? Te saate selleks. Andke vaid korraldus, armastatud juht ja 玫petaha. Soovite olla spetsialist graafika alal? Te saate selleks. Orkestreerimise spetsialist? Miks ka mitte? V玫i keeleteaduses. Nimetage vaid. Sellel surmalaagri juhatajal, kes v盲idetavalt armastas Mozartit, oli abiline ideoloogia alal. Ja sellel abilisel oli oma abiline. Tuli leida vaid ohver, kes 眉tles esimesena, et Mozart on hea helilooja. Ja kohe oli kohal timukas. Ta k盲gistas ohvri ja kordas tema s玫nu Mozarti kohta, nagu oleksid need tema enda sonad. Ta r枚枚vis ohvrit kaks korda. Ta v玫ttis talt elu ja tema m玫tted. Ja k玫ik tema 眉mber ohkasid: "Kui kultuurne, kui arukas, kui peen." K玫ik need lipitsejad, etturid, mutrikesed ja teised v盲iksed inimesed soovivad meeleheitlikult, et nende juht ja 玫petaja oleks vaieldamatult ja tingimusteta m玫ttehiiglane ja sulemeister. See on teine p玫hjus, miks need r盲pased v盲ljam玫eldised hinges p眉sivad. K玫ik on geniaalselt lihtne. Kui juht ei kirjuta raamatuid, vaid t眉keldab selle asemel inimesi, kes ta siis on? Vastust ei tule otsida ents眉klopeediast. Ega tarvitse oodata j盲rgmist ajakirjanumbrit, et leida sealt rists玫na lahendus. Vastus on lihtne: lihunik, gangster. Ja lipitsejad on seega lihuniku ja gangsteri abilised. Kes tahab endast sel viisil m玫elsa? K玫ik soovivad olla puhtad, n眉眉d kus on puhkenud uus koidik. (K玫ik t眉rannid kuulutavad alati, et k盲tte on j玫udnud kauaoodatud koidik. Alati just nende valitsusajal. Ja ka k玫ige pimedama 枚枚 valitsedes m盲ngivad inimesed, et on saabund p盲ev. M玫ned esitavad oma osa, j盲rgides Stanislavski petrust, ja see avaldab asjasse p眉hendamatutele suurt muljet.) Pilt on hoopis erinev, kui juht armastab Beethovenit, kas pole? See muudab mingil m盲盲ral maastikku. Olen kohanud mitmeid muusikuid, kes v盲itsid t玫simeeli, et Stalin armastab Beethovenit." (Lk 130-131)
(Paar aastat tagasi lugesin ka Julian Barnes'i romaniseeringut (kas see on s玫na?) 艩ostakovit拧i elust, mis suuresti "Tunnistusel" tugines, ja v玫ib-olla ma m盲letan "Aja m眉ra" liiga 盲hmaselt, aga see oli "Tunnistuse" hale vari. Mul on alati tunne, et kui l盲盲ne autorid p眉眉avad midagi seesugust kirja panna, siis selles on alati mingi kogus naiivsust ja mingi iva j盲盲b puudu. Lugege parem seda.)
The story of the creation and emergence of Testimony is one of high drama. In these memoirs Dmitri Shostakovich, the musical titan whom the Russians presented to the world as the personification of their ideal in the arts, reveals himself as a profoundly tormented man - deeply ambivalent in his feelings about himself and his role.
For some four years before Shostakovich's death, working first in Leningrad and then in Moscow, the brilliant young Soviet musicologist Solomon Volkov drew forth from Shostakovich memories whose publication the composer came to see as mandatory. "I must do this, I must," he said to Volkov, who took down these recollections and then shaped and edited them, retaining always Shostakovich's idiosyncratic patterns of recall and abrupt personal voice. The composer read, approved and signed each section when Volkov completed his work. He consented to the manuscript's being published in the West and imposed only one condition: that it not appear until after his death.
Shostakovich calls these recollections "the testimony of an eyewitness," and brings an eyewitness's immediacy to this series of associative reminiscences which range over the full length of his life, from before the Revolution through the ill-fated thaw which followed Khrushchev's denunciation of Stalin. Scenes spring to life as if the reader were present at them: astonishing and courageous conversations with Stalin; the uproarious competition to create a new national anthem (in which Shostakovich joined forces with Khachaturian); the fabrication of false geniuses; the ubiquity of plagiarism. He recalls musicians, artists and writers whom he knew: Prokofiev, Stravinsky, Glazunov, Meyerhold, Akhmatova, and many others at the center of Russian culture. He speaks out passionately against the anti-Semitism rife in all levels of society. He writes with mordant wit about individuals, prominent and obscure, who danced to the changing tunes of those in power.
He had never let any of this be known publicly before, and the picture that emerges of what it was like to be a creative artist in the Soviet Union is moving and often harrowing.
This was a life and an art Dostoevskian in its emotions, and these memoirs are plain-spoken and outspoken, sardonic and powerful - a Shostakovich the world has never seen before and a life that was at once triumphant and tragic.
This was recommended by my university music prof, and I don't remember the context for it. I don't remember if it was for the insights into Shostakovich's music, or the insights into the Russian political situation at the time, or just because it's a great read, but it was great for all three of those things. I don't normally even read prefaces, but I did read this one, and I was sold by the end of it. The realization that the book you're holding in your hands actually had to be smuggled out from behind the Iron Curtain - in the fairly recent history - in order to be published at all, and that at least one person who helped with this smuggling couldn't be named even at the time of publication in the 70s, is enough to get you interested. What follows doesn't disappoint.
It's not a biography in the traditional linear sense, but rather, as the blurb suggest, is just reminiscences. Volkov just got Shostakovich talking, and went with what came out. It did start around his childhood, but once he hit adulthood, there was little or no real chronological order to anything. But that didn't make it any less engaging or anything. It was really quite fascinating. Obviously, by now, we all know that Stalin was pretty much a tyrannical whackjob, but even we don't really realize the extent of it. This helps to make some of it clearer. A good example is in the footnotes. Volkov has included helpful footnotes any time Shostakovich mentions a new name, especially one that's not necessarily familiar to Western readers. A staggering number of them include some variation of the following: "Stalin had him shot." It's a little crazy to realize that artists could be killed in the middle of the night because Stalin hadn't liked their latest creation. Frankly, it's amazing Shostakovich didn't just disappear some night, because Stalin had all kinds of nasty things to say about his work. Shostakovich spent much of his life wondering every night if this was the night. Which is kind of interesting, because while one certainly wouldn't want to live in a society like that, there is a tiny part of every artist, I think, that thinks that it must almost be nice to have a government that cares enough about art to have people shot over it.
Shostakovich didn't really like to talk about himself, so much of this book is about others, but some of the most powerful bits are the parts where he actually does let the wall down a bit and talk about himself. The anti-Semitism he opposed, for example. When he starts talking about that, and his feelings about the oppression of the Jews, and people in general, and Russia as a whole, it really was very moving. His frustrations with the way his music was received or interpreted are also very interesting.
All in all, it really was a great read, well worth it to anyone studying Russian history or Russian music, but just as worth it for mere interest. If nothing else, it made me want to listen to more Shostakovich and look into some of the more obscure Russian composers he talked about.
This is not an autobiography, but memoirs about the people among whom Shostakovich associated, from fellow musicians and filmmakers and poets, to Stalin, whom he usually refers to sarcastically. Shostakovich dictated these memoirs to his close and trusted friend Volkov, and asked him to publish them in the west after his death. It is an expose of life as an oppressed Soviet musician and citizen. Very interesting to me as a musician, but even moreso as an insider's look at life in Russia under the terrifying rule of Stalin.
He was constantly afraid for his life, but he continued to compose symphonies that depicted what the people suffered. He was forced to read state-written speeches, some of them even denouncing himself. Because his music was named "formalist" or anti-Soviet, he was publicly called an "enemy of the people." He saw other composers change their methods and even denounce each other to save their own skins, but he continued to write music that spoke the truth. His seventh symphony, according to Volkov, was heard by millions of Americans on live radio and "was probably the first time in musical history that a symphony played so political a role," according to Volkov's footnotes. "At first, everything developed normally, but then I realized there were too many articles, too much noise. They were turning me into a symbol...And I grew more and more frightened." "Every report of the success of the Seventh or Eighth made me ill. A new success meant a new coffin nail." Yet he continued his path. The scherzo of the tenth symphony is "a musical portrait of Stalin," a man whom he detested. "And now let people hear the music, and then they'll see what they have to do and how to separate the important from the unimportant."
Shostakovich had a sad life. He said at the end of the book, "...every day of my life brings no joy." He knew a lot of talented and important people and he was very talented himself but he was not happy. He lived under Stalin's rule. In this book he tells how terrible Stalin was and tells many stories about how Stalin killed the blind, the successful, and the highly skilled. Stalin was easily jealous, unpredictable and very destructive. Russia, at the time of Shostakovich was not a good place to live. There is one story that he relates that is very amusing about Stalin asking the great composers of Russia to compose a new Russian anthem. He tells Shostakovich and Khachaturain that they have to collaborate on the anthem. Their styles are very different but they have no choice they do as Stalin commands. Some composers submit several anthems hoping that one of theirs will be chosen. Shostakovich and Khachaturain's anthem is not the winning choice, however Shostakovich concludes, "A national anthem must have bad music, and Stalin didn't break with tradition, as was to be expected." It was an interesting book, and it's hard to stomach all the lives that Stalin influenced for evil. One thing I learned from this book is not to live a life like Shostakovich. Shostakovich often wished he would have spoken up but didn't want to get people in trouble so he stayed quiet. He would say something like I wish I would have said something, or I should have spoken up but I didn't.
This book's been controversial since it was published in '79, 4 years after Shostakovich鈥檚 death. Some think it鈥檚 largely fabricated, others think it accurately represents the composer. The interviewer/author doesn鈥檛 do an exceptional job (e.g. there鈥檚 essentially nothing about Shostakovich鈥檚 family after his childhood), but if it鈥檚 substantially a fabrication, it鈥檚 pretty well done and pretty consistent. Regardless, it鈥檚 full of the tragedy and horror of life under Stalin, particularly as it affected the Soviet cultural elite, with many disturbing but interesting episodes. Surely the general gist is accurate.
More positively, it sheds a little light on Russian music from an important composer鈥檚 perspective, especially regarding Glazunov as an educator and also regarding Mussorgsky (if we trust these specifics). Nearly every paragraph is thick with a sarcasm that seems akin to the irony and sarcasm in Shostakovich鈥檚 music. Tragic as the material is, the sarcasm is often funny and occasionally hilarious. I haven鈥檛 seen the new Ashkenazy forward 鈥� I鈥檇 like to hear his take on the book.
If you think this book will leave you happy and fulfilled. You are wrong. If anything it will leave you with more questions and a dire need to know more. I enjoyed every minute of this book and although the story is indeed rather 'tragic and unhappy' as Guardian put it, it was also very entertaining to the extent that I couldn't keep my laughter inside of me thus scaring old ladies on the train. For me this was one of those books that I couldn't put down yet never wanted it to end. It changed some of my na茂ve thoughts about music and life. Things I though I knew but never actually took time to understand. This story...this testimony of the great composer Dmitri Shostakovich is a must-read for every musician...it's essential if you want to understand better his music and the time he and his companions lived in. Definitely one of my favorite books and something I will eventually re-read!
Intersting memories mostly about other musicians (Glazunov, Borodin, Mussorgsky, Yudina) the political pressures only slightly mentioned. Rarely personal relations beside the music. But life was grey for Dimitri. His ambivalence toward the political system I can understand: He wanted to live, had famiy. Mandelstam and others died. To hide was no opportunity for him. So, in this regard, I don't like 'Europe central' for its spitefulness. To undersatnd his music you have to read another book (I read therefore the biography of K. Meyer.
Reading a book written by a hero of mine was truly an honor, and any music lover should read this memoir. Of course it was tragic; a man declared "Enemy of the people" by Stalin who was simultaneously employed with the enormous task of portraying Russian life and emotion. However, it's also so human. Shostakovich is funny and snide and gives his full and honest opinion on every page. Well aware that people would actually read his memoirs someday, he wrote in a captivating manner that will make you cry and laugh and feel like you've run a marathon when you've finished.
True m茅moires of musicians are "read" in the language they prefer to write, which is their composing. To get an idea of the State pressure under which Dmitri Shostakovich had to create his art, listen first to the oratorio "The Song of the forests", a "safe" piece he composed in 1949 (as being suspected of formalism) for which he got the Stalin prize, and than to his violin concerto Opus 99, which he shelved until after Stalins death.
This book is a fascinating study of both Shostakovich and Soviet life. Having lived in Russia for extended periods of time, I have personally witnessed the after effects of communism. I am aware of the "dubious" history of this book, but wholeheartedly recommend it to anyone, as I have never read anything as true to my own experiences in Russia as this book is.
I don't know what to think...because I don't know how much of it is true. I feel like Shostakovich really employed what he/someone said at the beginning of the book about how people shouldn't talk about themselves, but rather reveal themselves through talking about people he knew. I enjoyed all the anecdotes, but not sure how much I learned about the man himself. Onto Shostakovich and Stalin.