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I read that "Jean-Christophe" was among the favorite books of young Zionists in Poland during the 1920s, so I will probably have the Polish characters in my new novel read the book and discuss it. There is much about awakening love and the creation of music that is beautifully written and could lead to fascinating experiences and interactions for my young characters.

Rolland won a Noble Prize for Jean-Christophe in 1915. By a strange coincidence, our apartment in Collioure, France was located on Rue Romain Rolland, which was why I bought the book before I knew it had anything to do with Polish Zionists. Rolland has also written a biography of Beethoven.

A FEW QUOTES ...

What an abundance of strength, joy, pride, is in that little creature! What superfluous energy! His body and mind never cease to move; they are carried round and round breathlessly�. Life does not hold him yet; always he escapes it. He swims in the infinite. How happy he is! He is made to be happy! There is nothing in him that does not believe in happiness, and does not cling to it with all his little strength and passion!�

As soon as no one was near he would raise the lid, and softly press down a key � He listens as she goes down the stairs, and into the street, and away. He is alone. He opens the piano, and brings up a chair, and perches on it. His shoulders just about reach the keyboard; it is enough for what he wants. Why does he wait until he is alone? ... It is so much more beautiful when he is alone! Jean-Christophe holds his breath so that the silence may be even greater.

Everything is music for the born musician. Everything that throbs, or moves, or stirs, or palpitates—sunlit summer days, nights when the wind howls, flickering light, the twinkling of the stars, storms, the song of birds, the buzzing of insects, the murmuring of trees, voices, loved or loathed, familiar fireside sounds, a creaking door, blood moving in the veins in the silence of the night—everything that is is music; all that is needed is that it should be heard. All the music of creation found its echo in Jean-Christophe.

Whirling thoughts rushed in his mind; he could make nothing of them. Like mists ascending from a valley they rose from the depths of his heart. He wandered hither and thither at random through this mist of love, and whatever he did, he did but turn round and round an obscure fixed idea, a Desire unknown, terrible and fascinating as a flame to an insect. It was the sudden eruption of the blind forces of Nature.

MORE TO COME ...