James R. Gaines (1) (1947–)

I'm a pretty big fan of this book. It does sortof amount to the grown-up equivalent of doodling "I Ricercar is a total success, man. Six voices was too many even for Bach.)

The history is solid and the story is good, but what really elevates this for me is Gaines' descriptions of some of Bach's work. It's very difficult to write about music, which makes it surprising that so many people try to. Gaines really nails it; he makes you desperate to hear the pieces he's raving about (I spent show more several hours on the couch reading this book and listening to each piece as he got to it), and once you hear them, crucially, you think, "Yes: he's totally right about that, whatever, catabasis there." (Except in the case of his defense of the Ricercar. A for effort, bud.)

For what it's worth, the best writing about music I've ever seen is the treatment of the Trout Sonata in Vikram Seth's [b:An Equal Music.|50366|An Equal Music|Vikram Seth|http://photo.goodreads.com/books/1170368734s/50366.jpg|2307024] I'm sure you were wondering. I don't remember anything about that book except that now I'm a huge fan of the Trout. (Incidentally, one of the many times I fell in love with my wife was while watching her play that piece.)

The essential question in Gaines' book is the difference between music as mathematics and music as free expression, and that's one that's fascinated me ever since Music Comp II when we learned all sorts of arcane rules for how to modulate between keys. It was extremely scientific; that might sound awful, but it's not...necessarily. In my hands it was pretty awful. Bach, on the other hand, was obsessively mindful of all this, but you don't notice it at all. Some think these rules - the dissonance in a tritone, the consonance in a fifth - are the secrets to the universe, no different than Einstein's E=MC2. That's bullshit, but it's really interesting bullshit, isn't it?

Added and weird bonus: this book also started one of my very rare and much-wished-for literary conversations on the T, from a New England Conservatory student of indeterminate gender. The bad news is that it reminded me: the sort of person who comes rushing over to talk about your history book with you is also the sort of person who insists on pronouncing "Bach" all pretentious-like. Just say it Bock, dude(tte?). You sound like the kind of douche who pretends to like the Ricercar. show less

The Fifties: An Underground History by James R Gaines is an interesting read highlighting a few of the people who helped pave the way for what became the gay rights, feminist, civil rights, and environmental movements.

The portraits of these people make for fascinating reading and the documentation for anyone wanting to read further is extensive. This not only gives credit where it has sometimes been scarce but serves as a great starting point for readers who want to know more.

I do have two show more relatively minor issues, one of which will likely be corrected before publication. First, I am afraid the hyperbole of the marketing copy will turn some people off. No one believes these movements formed ex nihilo in the 60s, of course there were people in the 50s, and before, who went against the status quo. That does not "upend the myth of the fifties," it simply shows who some of these people were.

My second issue, while likely corrected in the final version, makes me question just what Gaines' foundational knowledge is in some areas. He no doubt is well read and intelligent, but to attribute Bigger Thomas to Ralph Ellison would seem to show exactly where his blind spots are in his literary and cultural history. That goes a bit beyond a typo or incorrect dates, it is attributing a major character to the incorrect major author. This happened in the introduction which put the entire rest of the book under a cloud for me.

Those things aside I would still recommend this book to those interested in reading about early figures in social justice issues as well as those who like to read about something other than the dominant narrative about the middle of the last century.

Reviewed from a copy made available by the publisher via NetGalley. show less

This book needs to get an award just for the length of the subtitle!

Entertaining, excellent, and approachable history. Not a biography, but an examination of the lives of J.S. Bach and Frederick the Great inspired by their famous meeting. Late in Bach’s life, he journeyed to the court of Frederick (where his son, C.P.E. Bach, was a court musician). Summoned by Frederick, he was presented with a theme and asked to compose a fugue on it in three parts. Back improvised the fugue, to the show more astonishment of everyone. Later, when Bach returned to Leipzig, he composed and had printed the “Musical Offering” on Frederic’s theme and sent it to the court.

The author does a lot of creative reading between the lines to fill out the historical record. That is what makes the book so enjoyable, presenting the facts and giving an entertaining interpretation. He fills in the history of Bach and Frederick, and casts their meeting as a collision of the serious baroque music of Bach with the lighter music favored by Frederick, and uses that as a metaphor for the change from the religious reformation to the birth of the Enlightenment. show less

Solid and enjoyable book. Gaines has his subject and its presentation in an iron grip, and his wit is actually pretty witty (though the abundant parenthetical asides got to be a bit much). His presentation of his theme, woven together like counterpoint, is very clever. The epilogue too was an insightful (and parenthesis-less) sweep through the epochs of ideas post-Bach-and-Frederick. If the whole book were more like the finale it would add another star, but still overall a very enjoyable essay.