Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category
Open Season on the Widow(er): More about Debbie Macomber’s “Hannah’s List”
Before I start into today’s blog, I want to first point you to the book review I just did at Shiny Book Review:
I had a hard time containing my rage and frustration after reading Hannah’s List. There are so very many things wrong with this book — and all of them start with the premise: why would a man who’s grieving get a letter from his dead wife (written as she lay dying) asking him to remarry forthwith because he should have children — as if children are owed to him in her view — and then give a list of three disparate women who, in Hannah’s view, would make her husband Michael an excellent second wife?
Most if not all of you know I am a widow, and thus, Michael the doctor’s plight is not unknown to me. Anniversaries are hard — the first one in particular, but they never get any easier, and grief has its own cycle — one that doesn’t obey any time clocks — that the widow or widower must endure.
Doctor Michael Everett, the hero of Hannah’s List, has been grieving for one year — apparently author Macomber thought this was just much too long for a vibrant man in his late-thirties — and we’re supposed to believe that Hannah, his wife, is a selfless, caring, giving saint for finding three women she thinks will appeal to her husband to succeed her after her death.
Excuse me, but when did this woman die and become God(dess)? I mean, isn’t it up to Michael — the widower — to decide when or even if to date again? And certainly, if he had the sense to pick Hannah in the first place and she was so damned good for him, why wouldn’t Hannah realize that he still has that good common sense that led him to her in the first place, so he’s still capable of finding another good woman by himself? And that he doesn’t need to be led by the hand in order to find someone else?
Some of the feelings Michael the widower had in this book didn’t ring true to me, either. From page 318:
How well she knew me, how well she’d known how I’d react once she left this world. But for the first time since I’d lost her, I felt not only alive, but — to my complete surprise — happy. I saw now that her letter had freed me; it’d given me permission to live. The letter, with her list, was a testament of her love.
Once again, we have the saintly Hannah, and the barely-thinking, barely-able-to-reason Michael — who is of all things a doctor and should understand at bare minimum what the grief cycle is all about — and I just don’t buy it.
Either this man had the sense he was born with to pick wisely once, so he can pick wisely a second time without being led by the hand, or he didn’t — but if he didn’t, he needs a lot more help than the manipulative, meddling Hannah could ever possibly give him.
There are not words for how much I profoundly disliked and despised this book, and I hadn’t expected to feel this way as I have enjoyed just about every other book Debbie Macomber has ever written — most especially the ones featuring scatterbrained angels Shirley, Goodness and Mercy. Those are funny, heartwarming and even healing books that make me laugh and think.
But all Hannah’s List made me think was this: open season on the widow(er). Because apparently Ms. Macomber does not believe a widow, or widower, can think for him or herself and must be led, kicking and screaming, back into life by the first available man (or woman, or alien, or whatever) who’s willing to take an interest before it’s too late.
Humph!
Two New Book Reviews up at Shiny Book Reviews sister site.
Folks, I have been writing up a storm this week. First I finished getting onto paper the 11,000+ words of my Writers of the Future story (can’t tell you the title or I’ll be immediately disqualified), then I started going over my and Michael’s stories that are currently up at e-Quill Publishing in order so they can be submitted to Smashwords (Lawrence, publisher of e-Quill, believes this will greatly improve the visibility and marketability of my and Michael’s writing and I sincerely hope he’s right), and finally, I wrote two new book reviews tonight for this blog’s sister site, Shiny Book Reviews.
The two new reviews are for Alison Weir’s excellent history Queen Isabella and Michael Schaffer’s satirical and pointed One Nation Under Dog: America’s Love Affair with our Dogs. These were both excellent, intelligent and engrossing books that I heartily enjoyed reading; it was a pleasure reviewing them.
At any rate, here are the direct links to those two new reviews:
Alison Weir review:
Michael Schaffer review:
Go read ’em! You’ll be glad you did. (Or at least I will.)
Furiously trying to finish a story for WotF
My blog once again has been suffering this week, partly because I’m doing my best to finish a story in time for the 9/30/10 deadline for the Writers of the Future contest. I have done a great deal, but I still have at least three or four more solid hours of work to go, providing the story continues to hold together — only then can I send it off with a clear conscience.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be eligible for WotF, as once a novel (not a novella, a full-fledged novel, something over 60 K words) is published with my name on it, I will be ineligible. This could happen soon; I am holding a positive thought. Which is why this particular quarter might be the very last time I am definitely eligible for the contest . . . and it’s why I am working as hard as I can to bring a story together, so I can say I entered every quarter I had something ready until I was declared ineligible.
I suppose I should give some context here. My first entry into the Writers of the Future contest was the Winter quarter of 2002 — which is their first quarter, the end of December deadline. And I have entered more often than not ever since, mostly entering stories I’ve written alone, but sometimes entering co-written stories. I’ve never received an honorable mention, much less semi-finalist or finalist status, yet thousands of people enter the WotF contest every quarter, and I know the only way to win a prize (they give three) is to enter. Which is why despite how frustrating it’s been over the years to never get any recognition at all, I have kept at it.
Basically, to be eligible for WotF, you have to have three stories or fewer published — full credit stories in magazines that have circulations of over 5,000 people, or at an online publication where your story has received 5,000 hits. The places that are known to meet this criteria are those that are Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America-eligible also — some of those include the Grantville Gazette, the Intergalactic Medicine Show, Strange Horizons, Apex, Fantasy magazine, the Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Asimov’s, and Analog. As I have only one-half a story credit by that measure (I’ve sold three stories, all co-written with my late husband Michael; two of them do not count by WotF standards as they do not meet SFWA guidelines of 5,000 circulation or 5,000 hits), I would only become ineligible when I either sold three stories on my own (or six more co-written stories with Michael or anyone else), or if I published more than one novella (so far I haven’t any novellas), or more than one novelette (only one of my stories, co-written with Michael, is even close to that), all with a full credit. But a novel, whether it’s co-written or not, will immediately disqualify me no matter what — and something I’m working on now may go over the 60K word count and be published sooner rather than later.
At any rate, that’s what I’ve been up to, along with researching two different, disparate stories (one being the fourth “Columba” tale, which I discussed last week); that leaves very little time available for my blog.
But as soon as I have something that interests me after I’ve completed the story for WotF, I’ll be blogging away again — no worries about that. So watch this space, as I might just surprise myself.
Research in progress to finish Michael’s fourth “Columba” story
I’ve been quiet this week, folks, partly because earlier this week was the sixth-year observance of my late husband Michael’s death. I don’t enjoy this — who does? — but I feel it’s important to do my best to remember his life, and what he meant to me (I do this every day, but try especially hard during this particular week), and re-dedicate myself toward this difficult, often frustrating and sometimes rewarding business of writing.
Michael left behind a fourth “Columba” story that is, at best, 1/3 finished. I know the title, which I will not share right now, and I know the circumstances Columba and her husband, the Duc d’Sanchestre, were in after they attempted to cross to his demesne but ended up somewhere else instead.
Complicating matters, I don’t have any notes for this story or universe — none whatsoever, unlike the “Maverick” universe (where there’s two completed stories there I’ve finished, and two novels I’m working on), which has plenty — all I have is the title, my knowledge of Michael’s writing style, and the completed 1/3 (or maybe 1/4) I have of the story to work with.
What I’ve done is figure out the setting — Michael has set this well, but I need to know how I can continue to describe it as it doesn’t come naturally to me — figure out some of what’s about to happen next, and because I know these characters very well (even though I’ve never written them before, I’ve read these stories over and over as they are outstanding), I believe I’ll be able to start writing the fourth story (or at least my continuation of it) very soon.
Very few authors have attempted what I’m doing — what I’ve already done to a degree with Michael’s “Joey Maverick” stuff — most especially in the realm of trying to finish in the same style as the original author . A husband-wife pair (or spousal unit pair, if you prefer), where only one is left to finish the work of the deceased, is even more rare — I know of Ariel Durant, the much younger wife of Will Durant, completing her husband’s work, and of a few SF authors (Leigh Brackett, C.L. Moore, perhaps Janet Asimov to a degree) working in their late husband’s universes by permission or actually finishing stories in their late husband’s style.
At any rate, it can be done, but it’s difficult and often frustrating — this is not the writing that comes easily to me, and it tends to block out everything else I want to do until I’ve gotten enough of it out that I can get back to my work — and that’s the main reason my blog is languishing at present.
Aside from that, I continue to submit stories, write more stories, and edit various things — so I’m doing whatever I can to keep my dreams alive.
I can only believe that Michael would very much approve.
—–
Note: Please, please go to eQuill Publishing and look for my late husband’s “Columba” stories — it’s not too late for his work to gain a following.
Here’s the link:
http://www.equillpublishing.com/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=13
State of the Elfyverse, and other writing stuff.
OK, now for a quick update as to the state of the Elfyverse, AKA, “What else has Barb been doing along with readying her and Michael’s reprints — and Michael’s three great, but previously unpublished, ‘Columba’ stories — for publication at eQuill?”
Three more chapters were revised and posted to my writer’s group for AN ELFY ABROAD, the direct sequel to ELFY, in the past month. I now have completed between 85 and 90% of this novel — but as it’s well over 250,000 words as it is, I know I will have to cut back somehow and/or split it into two books. (It’s even longer than ELFY!)
Two more chapters were revised and posted to my writer’s group for KEISHA’S VOW, with two more chapters currently in progress but with nagging problems I haven’t yet solved. (And as I tend to get blocked if I don’t solve ’em, I usually have to struggle for a while before I can go on. I don’t know why this is, but I know it is my process, for better or worse.) KEISHA’S VOW now stands about 50% complete with about 60,000 words written of a projected 110K novel. (KEISHA’S is an ELFY prequel set in 1954 with many of the same characters from ELFY — just younger, or at least more alive, versions.)
As for CHANGING FACES, my non-Elfyverse novel that’s been in progress since 2002, it remains stalled out. (Sorry.) At 95K of a projected 110K novel for the fourth month in a row.)
Six stories and six poems are at various markets, while “Trouble with Elfs,” a reprinted version of the story published in 2007 at the Written Word online magazine (a tighter, better formatted version) is now available at eQuill Publishing. Here is the link to my author page there:
http://www.equillpublishing.com/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=12
At any rate, you all know I’ve blogged, submitted to publishers, submitted to magazines, submitted to agents, and then done the same again several times (rinse and repeat). I am a serious writer, at least with regards to getting my work in print; I am also serious about getting Michael’s work in print (see my parallel post about Michael’s “Columba” stories, which I blogged about just before this here at the Elfyverse blog site).
Thank you for following along with my journey; it is not yet over, and is not yet complete, for which I give whatever thanks I may.
******
Note: I have not put “Bright as Diamonds” up as a reprint yet, though I believe I have the rights to it after all this time (five years since publication). I probably won’t, either, unless for some reason enough of my short fiction sells that I want or need to put out a short fiction collection — and that’s looking optimistically way down the road.
Michael’s never-before-published “Columba” stories up at eQuill
This was a long time in coming, folks.
I’ve done my best to keep my beloved husband’s work alive since his untimely death in 2004. It has been a struggle, but I’ve managed to sell a few things now and again — my story “Trouble with Elfs” sold in ’07 (Michael added 10% to it, so it’s credited as a collaboration), “A Dark and Stormy Night” sold in ’05 (this was his story, which I’d added 10% to round it out a little), — after our first sale to the BEDLAM’S EDGE anthology in ’04 (“Bright as Diamonds, released in ’05).
But all this time, I knew Michael had three completed fairy-tale fantasy stories set in an alternate United States of America — technically, in the demense of Illinowa, where Princess-Coronet Columba had a great deal of distress trying to separate herself from all the drama of being royal. Columba, you see, wanted her own, independent life — she was a musician, and a mage, and a very strong woman, stuck in a life that wasn’t right for her.
Then she rescues a cat . . . and things dramatically change. The cat isn’t a familiar, quite — you’d have to read the stories at eQuill to understand what’s going on fully — rather, he’s the gateway to an unexpected romance between two lonely, complementary souls who are equal, but not the same.
Michael wrote these stories for me — the first, “Columba and the Cat,” was written in early 2002 after we became engaged to be married. The second, “Columba and the Committee,” was written to celebrate our marriage in June of 2002. Finally, “Columba and the Crossing” was written for our anniversary — our second, as it had been in progress for well over a year due to the vagaries of life (a move across country, some ill health for the pair of us, and trying to find work in a new, strange place). A fourth, “Columba and the Cromlech,” was in progress at the time of Michael’s passing in September of 2004.
I wrote the blurbs, checked over the Columba stories, and am pleased to offer them now for the very first time to the public. I also am pleased to announce that the fourth “Columba” story will be completed, by me, as soon as possible.
Don’t be put off by eQuill being an Australian e-book publisher, folks — they have a monetary conversion thing through PayPal that allows any currency to be used as far as I am aware. (I checked this before I placed any of my or Michael’s stories there.)
Please check out Michael’s author’s page at eQuill and the stories available for sale now:
http://www.equillpublishing.com/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=13
And if you wish to see my page at eQuill (so far only one of our stories is listed with me; the others are listed with Michael), it is available here:
http://www.equillpublishing.com/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=12
Thanks, and as Michael always said, “Good reading!”
What is the Story? Examples of Narrative Flow from “Maury” and Others
The main question, whether it’s on the “Maury” show or whether it’s life itself, is: what is the story? And how does it match up against the narrative we tell ourselves?
I watch “Maury,” as I’ve said on my “About” page and elsewhere, partly because it’s cathartic — but mostly because it’s a real, live case study of people who believe something which may or may not be true; this belief is what’s driving their own, personal narrative. On “Maury,” it’s often fidelity — or the lack of it — that’s the belief, or perhaps paternity (or the lack of it) — whereas in real life, many people tend to believe whatever is on the surface of things, and don’t dig for deeper meaning. (Or as Rosemary Edghill once told me, “Life just is. Art has to convince.”)
On “Maury” recently, one of the stories that struck me was of a woman in her mid-40s, a professional, sober woman who happened to have a sex addiction. She was married to a minister, who was also a professional, sober and intelligent man — and rather than becoming indignant, or upset, or unhappy, or enraged (all typical and completely understandable reactions to hearing a secret of this nature in a public forum like the “Maury” show), he said that when he married her, he knew she had problems. And that he’d be unChristian to abandon her to something she hadn’t chosen or wished for — truly an astonishing event for “Maury,” as it was mature, reasoned and accepting (without being judgmental).
Yet if I had tried to come up with a narrative flow, being a regular watcher of “Maury,” I’d have expected these other reactions — because at least 90% of the time, that’s how people behave.
In our writing, we’re trying to tell a story that’s driven by conflict — sometimes external, sometimes internal, often both — and we must make things consistent, understandable, and give strong reasons why we do things (yet not make them so strong that it appears we’re leading the readers by the hand). This can be a challenge.
Right now, in my novel-in-progress KEISHA’S VOW, I’m wrestling with character reactions. How much is too much? And how accepting can someone be, even when truly in love, when a big part of their significant other’s identity has been hidden away?
At any rate, conflict is what tends to drive novels, except in the case of novels that are all about the hero’s journey and are more about the hero’s mood rather than what he or she is doing at any given time. These novels are all internally-driven conflict, and thus are much more difficult to write because keeping the reader engaged and focused in an internal struggle is far more challenging than keeping him amused while fighting various space battles for dinner, washing up with saving a planet or two for a light aperitif, then seeing said commander called back to be knighted and recognized for his/her conspicuous heroism for dessert.
At any rate, there are expected tropes in narrative storytelling, whether it’s on “Maury” or in a book. In science fiction, there are conventions we need to follow, or obviously break, in order to tell stories that resonate with readers — and if we do break with conventions, usually it’s best to do so in a showy manner that leaves little doubt as to why you’re doing things this way. (I’m reading a book now by Charles Yu called HOW TO LIVE SAFELY IN A SCIENCE FICTIONAL UNIVERSE, and there’s no doubt Yu knows exactly what he’s doing as he breaks with convention, discusses philosophy, and engages the reader in what on the surface might appear to be a fluffy journey of how the protagonist finds himself and his father, but is actually the most profound journey there is — how to find meaning when the universe makes no sense whatsoever.)
Granted, the stories that are remembered often do break with convention — remember my “Maury” anecdote, above? — precisely because of how they broke with convention.
In our own lives, the “narrative flow” breaks here and there due to marriage, divorce, death, raising children, etc. And what seems a seamless narrative from the outside, to someone who doesn’t know you well, is proven to have fits, starts and jumps — something Sharon Lee and Steve Miller exploited to the fullest in their recent, and excellent, novel, SALTATION. (Not to mention their recent, and excellent, novel MOUSE AND DRAGON, a sequel to their scintillating SCOUT’S PROGRESS. Or really any of their other books or stories — Lee and Miller have narrative flow down to an art form, and I highly recommend all their work.) Here, the conventions of science fiction are adhered to, yet this frees the authors to explore the dynamic tension of inner conflict amidst outer conflict, along with dealing with various problems due to societal expectations and cultural clashes. (If someone is looking to write romance, much less believable romance, but doesn’t know the first thing about how to do it in a science-fictional setting, reading Lee and Miller’s work would be an excellent place to start.)
So, what is your story? And what examples of narrative flow do you look for, when you pick something to read, write, or emulate in your own writing?
Reprinted stories soon to go up at eQuill Publishing.
Finally, some good news to report — I have agreed in principle to place Michael’s Joey Maverick SF/adventure story “A Dark and Stormy Night,” my Elfyverse story “Trouble with Elfs,” and a poem, “A Love Eternal,” with eQuill Publishing. They are a new e-press located in Australia, and I know about them mostly due to my friend Piotr S. Mierzejewski, who has placed a number of stories there already.
At any rate, “A Dark and Stormy Night” is a novella — 14,000 words — and my contribution to it is about 1400 words to even it out a tad and up the romance a mite. “Trouble with Elfs” is 8,000 words — a long short story, if that’s not an oxymoron — and is an urban fantasy set in the same universe, with many of the same characters, as ELFY. The Maverick novella is the very start of Michael’s book MAVERICK, LIEUTENANT, currently being revised by me in order to add action. And for the record, the Maverick story carries the byline “by Michael B. Caffrey, with Barb Caffrey,” while the Elfyverse story carries the byline “by Barb Caffrey, with Michael B. Caffrey,” though I wrote well over 85% of that story. (I simply believe that without Michael’s 15%, the story wouldn’t be worth reading, which is my prerogative.)
As for my poem “A Love Eternal,” it is the best way I’ve come up with yet to describe how Michael’s loss has affected me — and how to describe how I felt while Michael was alive.
All three reprinted stories/poems accepted for publication originally appeared at the Written Word — “A Dark and Stormy Night” appeared in ’05 and is not archived online, while “Trouble with Elfs” appeared in ’07 and the poem “A Love Eternal” appeared in ’06.
I may have further good news in the reprint quarter to note soon — but for now, please check out eQuill Publishing here:
http://www.equillpublishing.com
Also, please know that while publishing remains a very difficult occupation to break into, there are good moments from time to time. This is one of those moments, and I’m pleased that my persistence has paid off in order for these stories to appear in the way I’d always hoped.
Michael did not live long enough to see our first story, “Bright as Diamonds,” published, though he did know it had been sold. (We cashed the check and enjoyed the proceeds immensely, going to a Japanese restaurant and seeing the “floor show.”) He was looking forward to seeing the BEDLAM’S EDGE anthology in print at the time of his passing, but did not get that wish. And Michael obviously did not get the chance to see any of his own work published, either — me getting Michael’s “Maverick” novella published in ’05, after adding the 1400 words to make it a legal collaboration and thus, much easier to sell, was an act of love, faith and persistence.
Michael believed very strongly in my ability to write. Without his faith in me, without his help (as he’d already completed a novel before I started on ELFY), I would not be the same writer. And I’d be no kind of editor, as Michael had major skills there that he did his level best to pass on.
I continue onward as best I am able though sometimes it seems like an inordinately difficult task. Still, I was not raised to give up, and my wonderful, amazing husband believed I could do anything I set my mind to do.
My mind is set on publishing, in case you hadn’t figured it out already, and I will continue onward toward this goal.
—
Btw, the title of “Trouble with Elfs” is not a misprint. (You need to read the story to find out why.)
The Role of the Professional Critic: Don Rosenberg v. the Cleveland Orchestra and Plain Dealer.
The saga of Donald Rosenberg, erstwhile classical music critic of the Cleveland Plain Dealer, has brought to my attention how difficult the role of the professional critic may be — and how quickly even a highly-regarded critic like Rosenberg can fall if not backed by his employers.
Oh, you don’t know Mr. Rosenberg’s work? Well, many don’t, but for thirty years he wrote about the Cleveland Orchestra (formerly known as the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra), and he’s written a book about the orchestra called The Cleveland Orchestra Story: Second to None, which came out in 2000 and is available at Amazon.com at this link:
The upshot of Mr. Rosenberg’s story was that he was demoted by his employer, the Plain Dealer, because the Cleveland Orchestra was upset over comments Rosenberg had made about the Orchestra’s conductor, Franz Welser-Most. Rosenberg sued, claiming among other things that his freedom of speech was infringed upon, that the Plain Dealer had practiced age discrimination against him, and that Welser-Most had abused his position as conductor in order to get what Welser-Most viewed as a “hostile” critic removed from his post. More about this suit is available here:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/12/11/cleveland-plain-dealer-su_n_150404.html
Recently, Mr. Rosenberg lost his lawsuit, which is why this subject came to my attention in the first place. (For the record, I think it’s wrong for a critic to lose his job merely because a conductor does not like him or what he writes. If Leonard Bernstein had been that way, half the reviewers in New York would’ve lost their jobs in the ’50s and ’60s.) A good blog that’s followed the whole situation from the beginning is called Sounds & Fury; a good place to start is the following post, a “final comment” on Mr. Rosenberg’s unfortunate situation:
But all of this has made me think — what is the role of the professional critic, especially if someone does not like what he or she is writing? Because if you ask someone, “What is a critic?,” you’re going to get a really odd look, followed by, “Someone who criticizes!” or maybe, “Someone who gets paid to criticize for a living.”
Now, I know from reviewing books for Amazon.com and elsewhere, not everyone’s going to agree with me regarding a review. Sometimes, the disagreement is over something profound, but most of the time it’s over something that’s seemingly trivial — such as, whether a book is suitable for someone who’s seven, or eight; whether a love story in the background is detrimental (even if there’s no actual sex going on) — and the fact that I see this as trivial while someone else sees this as profound is part of the human condition.
However, when a professional critic is effectively muzzled by an orchestra, or worse, by the conductor of the orchestra, that is not helpful to the entire profession of critics. As Michael Phillips wrote in his 8/12/2010 column at the Chicago Tribune, available here: http://featuresblogs.chicagotribune.com/talking_pictures/2010/08/critic-donald-rosenberg.html
There is so much fear and self-censorship in the critics’ ranks in America today. There are so few full-time salaries. You can smell the caution and paranoia in too many reviews weighed down by generalities and a stenographer’s devotion to “objectivity,” which isn’t what this endeavor is about at all. It’s about informed, vividly argued subjectivity.
(I added the bold in last paragraph, just in case you missed it.)
Phillips goes on to say that:
Approached the wrong way criticism is an inherently arrogant and narcissistic pursuit, yet what I’m left with, increasingly, is how humbling it is. It’s hard to get a review right for yourself, let alone for anyone reading it later. It’s even harder to be an artist worth writing and reading about, because so much conspires against even an inspired artist’s bravest efforts.
I agree with this; I agonize over the book reviews I write, and the music reviews, and when I used to write movie reviews for the Daily Nebraskan (and elsewhere), I used to worry myself to pieces over those, too. Because if you’re a good critic, or you’re at least trying to become one, you do worry about whether or not you’ve explained what it is you’re criticizing well enough so your critique of it all will make any sense to the reader who’s not as able to make an informed, rational decision as you (not having seen and heard what you have as “the critic”).
Finally, Phillips says this:
. . . no critic has a ‘right’ to a compensated opinion. We serve at the pleasure of our employers. And yet we’re only worth reading when we push our luck and ourselves, and remember that without a sense of freedom, coupled with a sense that we cannot squander it, we’re just filler.
(Once again, the emphasis here was mine.)
Many points to ponder for both the writer and critic alike, but what I think most troubles me about all of this is how the Cleveland Plain Dealer attempted to frame the narrative. Their version of events is strikingly different than Mr. Rosenberg’s, yet as a highly trained classical musician, I am much more sympathetic to Mr. Rosenberg’s version of events (where Rosenberg quoted, verbatim, some unflattering statements from Welser-Most about music lovers in the US of A, etc.). The fact of the matter is, many European conductors are dismissive of posts in the United States of America and they’d rather be working in their home countries, where they feel their art is more respected. Most conductors from Austria (where Welser-Most is from), France, Germany, Italy, etc., view the US of A as being uncultured, uncivilized, and far less interested in classical music than their homelands. And many of these guys have put down Americans in general for years — this is no secret, and while it should be shameful for these European conductors, it isn’t.
For Welser-Most to get upset because Rosenberg dared to call Welser-Most to account for some of his comments about Cleveland’s “blue-haired ladies” and about how Welser-Most apparently didn’t think much of Cleveland, seems mighty thin-skinned to me. In addition, any criticism of a conductor — especially when it’s backed up by many other critics the world over (Welser-Most has a reputation that basically equates to, “If W-M loves the piece, he does a good job; if not, well, whatever”) — should be allowed and understood. (Free speech, remember?)
The fact that Welser-Most, the conductor of the Cleveland Orchestra, managed to force Rosenberg from his position at the Plain Dealer, shows a great deal more about Welser-Most than Welser-Most probably wishes were the case. Further, that the Cleveland Orchestra’s board of directors are able to say with supposedly clean hands (and without any air of hypocrisy about them) that they did nothing wrong, that they did not force Rosenberg out — well, it smells. To high heaven.
I view what happened the same way Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist Martin Bernheimer does, available at this link from the Financial Times:
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/ad3fb6c6-a668-11df-8767-00144feabdc0.html
Pointing out that Rosenberg is a horn player and holds three music degrees, Bernheimer put it plainly in the opening of his column:
Donald Rosenberg lost. So did Cleveland. And so did journalism in general and the precarious practice of music criticism in particular.
Absolutely right, Mr. Bernheimer. And what a shame, and a loss, that Rosenberg lost his lawsuit; what a horrible commentary on our life and times.
Barb Caffrey's Blog 