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"The final Cornish Trilogy novel from an author who "tells terrific stories that twist around and double back on themselves in surprising ways" ( The New York Times ). There is an important decision to be made. The Cornish Foundation is thriving under the directorship of Arthur Cornish when Arthur and his beguiling wife, Maria Theotoky, decide to undertake a project worthy of Francis Cornish-connoisseur, collector, and notable eccentric-whose vast fortune endows the Foundation. The grumpy, show more grimy, extraordinarily talented music student Hulda Schnakenburg is commissioned to complete E.T.A. Hoffmann's unfinished opera Arthur of Britain, or The Magnanimous Cuckold; and the scholarly priest Simon Darcourt finds himself charged with writing the libretto. Complications both practical and emotional arise: the passion in Maria's blood rises with a vengeance; Darcourt stoops to petty crime; and various others indulge in perjury, blackmail, and other unsavory pursuits. Hoffmann's dictum, "the lyre of Orpheus opens the door of the underworld, " seems to be all too true-especially when the long-hidden secrets of Francis Cornish himself are finally revealed. "Davies once again delivers the goods-with this solidly entertaining finale... Blending a characteristic knack for wit, esoterica, and snobbery, Davies charges ahead with a buoyant tale of upper-class grantsmanship and modern-day cuckoldry... A spry jaunt from an old master-once again in full command of the form."- Kirkus Reviews "Packed with interesting details of opera history and production... intelligent observations and playful allusions."- Publishers Weekly "With his wonderfully complex yet controlled plot, deft portrayal of eccentric characters, and great wit, Davies effectively satirizes the world of universities and foundations."- Library Journal show lessTags
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Member Reviews
As is only right and proper, this third part of the trilogy ties up the threads from the previous two parts, bringing us back to the foreground narrative in late-20th century Ottawa and to the heirs of Francis Cornish. The artistic focus this time is a project to realise an opera on the subject of King Arthur which E.T.A. Hoffmann left unfinished at his death. This of course provides the trilogy with a suitably spectacular grand finale, but it also gives Davies the opportunity to play around with a lot of interesting corners of the philosophy of art. We are made to think about what it means to realise an unfinished work, the relationship between music and libretto, artistic integrity versus effective theatre, artist versus patron, and show more much more. At the same time, of course, there is a plot, and the relationships between the people sponsoring the opera production are seen to be mirrored by the plot of the opera in ways that they find mortifyingly absurd. E.T.A. Hoffmann pops up to comment on the action from the limbo to which unrealised artists are consigned, Kater Murr becomes an allegory of bourgeois Canadian taste, we get some loving caricatures of the PhD examiner from hell and other academic absurdities...
Probably more than a little over the top - but that's as it should be when we're dealing with opera - a very clever and entertaining conclusion to the trilogy. show less
Probably more than a little over the top - but that's as it should be when we're dealing with opera - a very clever and entertaining conclusion to the trilogy. show less
he’s doing it again. this time, to a much lesser extent. he’s not shifting narrative style, scope, and storyline jarringly but he is continuing to have a supernatural Greek chorus (of one, this time) play a part. it’s entertaining and funny but i must say that i still vastly prefer Rebel Angels.
except that now, having almost finished the book, i must say i have really enjoyed it. yes, i would have liked to have had more time with the main characters instead of everything being seen from Simon Dartcourt’s point of view but, then, keeping the focus through him works remarkably well in its own fashion. certain goings-on come to light with Darcourt present but others happen off stage and still others happen off-stage and in the past show more from our vantage once we get to the narrative Darcourt is relating. in fact, there are large portions of the story that are not explained except in his musings. we must just live the life given us by the book and trust that whatever happened behind closed pages made sense.
i love to see people of passion and genius work. something about the loss of self to a venture that effortlessly consumes while simultaneously deepens you. it’s definitely a zen moment we experience during these transitions from the mundane to the sublime. the words chosen and the journey traveled create some potent, even heady, soul food for me.
even though i could not care less about opera, i was intrigued by the machinations of putting one together especially from an obscure, unfinished piece from the 19th century. and what a character Davies chose for this person! E.T.A. Hoffmann dabbled in opera and music criticism but wrote some very droll and influential books. this is the supernatural elemental of the book. Davies gives him voice at the end of every section of the book as a way to shed some perspective on the proceedings and give poor Mr. Dartcourt a break.
he weaves together several layers of often-self-referential story and allegory involving King Arthur and the tropes therein and well as Shakespeare, Lewis Carroll, and many others. Davies wants to provoke thoughts and feelings and moral questions for us. i think he does this subtly by having some of this happen in that off-stage manner but also through the eyes of the lone priest and moralistic heart of the book and the characters’s lives.
nothing profound here but, then again, maybe there is. many of his characters loom out of the page and the relationships by which they claim one another are a symphony of academic and intimate model of life on a diverse planet. or, at least, in Canada. show less
except that now, having almost finished the book, i must say i have really enjoyed it. yes, i would have liked to have had more time with the main characters instead of everything being seen from Simon Dartcourt’s point of view but, then, keeping the focus through him works remarkably well in its own fashion. certain goings-on come to light with Darcourt present but others happen off stage and still others happen off-stage and in the past show more from our vantage once we get to the narrative Darcourt is relating. in fact, there are large portions of the story that are not explained except in his musings. we must just live the life given us by the book and trust that whatever happened behind closed pages made sense.
i love to see people of passion and genius work. something about the loss of self to a venture that effortlessly consumes while simultaneously deepens you. it’s definitely a zen moment we experience during these transitions from the mundane to the sublime. the words chosen and the journey traveled create some potent, even heady, soul food for me.
even though i could not care less about opera, i was intrigued by the machinations of putting one together especially from an obscure, unfinished piece from the 19th century. and what a character Davies chose for this person! E.T.A. Hoffmann dabbled in opera and music criticism but wrote some very droll and influential books. this is the supernatural elemental of the book. Davies gives him voice at the end of every section of the book as a way to shed some perspective on the proceedings and give poor Mr. Dartcourt a break.
he weaves together several layers of often-self-referential story and allegory involving King Arthur and the tropes therein and well as Shakespeare, Lewis Carroll, and many others. Davies wants to provoke thoughts and feelings and moral questions for us. i think he does this subtly by having some of this happen in that off-stage manner but also through the eyes of the lone priest and moralistic heart of the book and the characters’s lives.
nothing profound here but, then again, maybe there is. many of his characters loom out of the page and the relationships by which they claim one another are a symphony of academic and intimate model of life on a diverse planet. or, at least, in Canada. show less
Con este libro se cierra la Trilogía Cornish, todo un prodigio de erudición y de saber hacer de Robertson Davies. En 'La lira de Orfeo', volvemos a encontrarnos con los personajes que conocimos tan bien en 'Ángeles rebeldes' y que apareción tan brevemente en 'Lo que arraiga en el hueso': Darcourt, Maria, Arthur y Hollier. Éstos constituyen la llamada Fundación Francis Cornish, con la que apadrinan económicamente los proyectos artísticos que más cercanos están con la idea de cultura que tenía Francis Cornish.
En este caso deciden llevar a cabo la representación de una ópera basada en un proyecto inacabado de E.T.A. Hoffmann, con las leyendas artúricas como tema principal. Para ello se decantan para la composición de la show more música por una estudiante, Hulda Schnakenburg, brillante pero con una forma de ser algo borde y mezquina. De esta manera, Schna también puede conseguir el doctorado en Música. Para el libreto se escoge a Darcourt, experto en literatura. Por supuesto, todo se complicará, y lo que sucede en la leyenda del Rey Arturo, con Ginebra, Lanzarote, Merlín, Morgana y demás, se verá reflejado también en la vida de los protagonistas.
Es una novela inteligente y con un humor muy inglés, por decirlo de alguna manera. Los diálogos son maravillosos, sobre todo las reuniones que tiene la Fundación, o las conversaciones durante comidas y cenas. La parte de cómo se construye una ópera casi desde cero es apasionante. Se nota que Davies conocía el tema de las representaciones musicales y teatrales.
Aunque sigo prefiriendo el primer libro de la trilogía, 'La lira de Orfeo' no desmerece nada. Quizás lo he encontrado un poco largo, pero nada más. Hay que leer a Robertson Davies. show less
En este caso deciden llevar a cabo la representación de una ópera basada en un proyecto inacabado de E.T.A. Hoffmann, con las leyendas artúricas como tema principal. Para ello se decantan para la composición de la show more música por una estudiante, Hulda Schnakenburg, brillante pero con una forma de ser algo borde y mezquina. De esta manera, Schna también puede conseguir el doctorado en Música. Para el libreto se escoge a Darcourt, experto en literatura. Por supuesto, todo se complicará, y lo que sucede en la leyenda del Rey Arturo, con Ginebra, Lanzarote, Merlín, Morgana y demás, se verá reflejado también en la vida de los protagonistas.
Es una novela inteligente y con un humor muy inglés, por decirlo de alguna manera. Los diálogos son maravillosos, sobre todo las reuniones que tiene la Fundación, o las conversaciones durante comidas y cenas. La parte de cómo se construye una ópera casi desde cero es apasionante. Se nota que Davies conocía el tema de las representaciones musicales y teatrales.
Aunque sigo prefiriendo el primer libro de la trilogía, 'La lira de Orfeo' no desmerece nada. Quizás lo he encontrado un poco largo, pero nada más. Hay que leer a Robertson Davies. show less
This is the third and final book of Davies’ Cornish trilogy, so named after Francis Cornish, the central figure of the books despite two of them being set after his death. You could split the three books in different ways – for example Book 1 (Rebel Angels) is about literature and the world of academia; Book 2 (What’s Bred in the Bone) is about art and the world of art, i.e. artists, art critics, art curators, art forgers, the works; and Book 3 (The Lyre of Orpheus) is about music and the world of theatre, opera in particular. Or you could say Book 1 is about the immediate impact of the death of Francis Cornish; Book 2 is about Cornish himself, and all the things that made his life extraordinary; and Book 3 about the long-term show more impact of his life and death, reaching forward into the arts in Canada, and backwards all the way to E.T.A. Hoffmann, languishing in limbo since his death in 1822.
It wouldn’t feel fitting to be too learned and serious in our analysis of these books. Sure, they’re jammed full of the most vivid and scholarly ideas I’ve read in any novel written in the last 30 years*. I’ve said before that Davies is so wonderfully intelligent that every paragraph of his books is a delight for both the mind and the imagination. But the flavour of Davies is not serious and earnest. His language is never dense or difficult. His characters never verge on the postmodern, or even the modern (not implying anything against these things), but they are firmly lodged within their own story: sympathetic, complicated, and really incredibly fun. In these books, Davies is often flamboyant, wacky, or at least theatrical – and yet I think you have to read Davies to really see how he handles that wackiness, because it isn’t weird, or surreal, or silly. He takes situations or character types that fit into that category, and then he fills them with thought and personality and contradictions. And he puts them into the world and makes them seem real.
The Lyre of Orpheus is about the beginnings of an opera which E.T.A. Hoffmann wrote before his death about the King Arthur myth called Arthur of Britain; or The Magnanimous Cuckold. (Davies made this up, the opera does not in fact exist.) The fortune accumulated by Francis Cornish now funds the Cornish Foundation, an arts patron group made up of the characters we came to know and love in Rebel Angels. So the Foundation takes on a bunch of colourful new characters and funds them to finish the opera and produce it. So we enter the world of theatre and music, and very theatrical it is, too. At the same time, the members of the Foundation are unconsciously living out their own King Arthur story, following the plot of the opera in the modern world. And on top of all this, Hoffmann himself, who has been languishing in limbo since his death, is taking a great interest in this production of his unfinished opera, looking down (or out?) upon it in the hopes that it will be produced successfully so that he can leave limbo and go on to wherever he’s going next.
Hoffman’s part is interesting, and not what I would have expected. He provides a commentary on how opera production in the 20th century is so different from that of his own time. He only gives us a few insights into his own life, and his commentary on what he wants from the opera only appears a couple of times. He is definitely not a prominent character. By excellent fortune, I happened to read Hoffmann’s book The Life and Adventures of the Tomcat Murr not long ago, and this book is referred to often in The Lyre of Orpheus. In Tomcat Murr, there are sections about a musician called Kreisler – ultra-romantic, emotional, full of unbearable joys and unbearable agony – the archetype of the Romantic artist. I had understood that Kreisler was modelled in some way on Hoffmann himself. Whether that is the case or not, Davies does not depict him like that here. The Hoffmann of The Lyre of Orpheus is strangely unemotional – maybe because he is in limbo? However, Powell, another character in the book, takes on this romantic role instead, though not exactly the same. The tomcat Murr himself is mentioned often throughout the book as a shortcut to explaining people who are self-satisfied and disinclined to grow or move on – what Hoffmann called Philistines. For me personally, it was an extra delight to read a Roberston Daveis book in which E.T.A. Hoffmann also featured. What a combination!
In What’s Bred in the Bone, Davies explores the idea of an artist’s thought and style belonging to a past age rather than in his own. Should an artist paint in a bygone style? Is it still art, or merely imitation? He asks these questions but doesn’t provide a definitive answer. Then, in The Lyre of Orpheus, this theme continues, as modern-day people try to create an opera in the style Hoffmann would have done over a century and a half earlier. Can it still be art? Can it still succeed? The reason I mention this is because I think it is a question that really meant something to Robertson Davies. He is a writer whose style and way of thinking belongs more to the 19th than the 20th century. He probably had to ask these questions of himself all his life. Maybe it’s the reason Davies isn’t as well known as I think he should be – because his art belongs to a past style, was never cutting edge or ‘new’, so maybe too many readers failed to see the strength of ideas in his work.
It feels as though I have left out so many things in this review that are worth talking about, but I have to stop somewhere. I loved the whole Cornish trilogy. I know I will read them again, more than once. I hope to read everything Davies ever wrote. These are great books, and deserve to be better known.
*To be quite fair, I must acknowledge that I certainly haven’t read everything published in these decades, and most notably I haven’t yet read David Foster Wallace. show less
It wouldn’t feel fitting to be too learned and serious in our analysis of these books. Sure, they’re jammed full of the most vivid and scholarly ideas I’ve read in any novel written in the last 30 years*. I’ve said before that Davies is so wonderfully intelligent that every paragraph of his books is a delight for both the mind and the imagination. But the flavour of Davies is not serious and earnest. His language is never dense or difficult. His characters never verge on the postmodern, or even the modern (not implying anything against these things), but they are firmly lodged within their own story: sympathetic, complicated, and really incredibly fun. In these books, Davies is often flamboyant, wacky, or at least theatrical – and yet I think you have to read Davies to really see how he handles that wackiness, because it isn’t weird, or surreal, or silly. He takes situations or character types that fit into that category, and then he fills them with thought and personality and contradictions. And he puts them into the world and makes them seem real.
The Lyre of Orpheus is about the beginnings of an opera which E.T.A. Hoffmann wrote before his death about the King Arthur myth called Arthur of Britain; or The Magnanimous Cuckold. (Davies made this up, the opera does not in fact exist.) The fortune accumulated by Francis Cornish now funds the Cornish Foundation, an arts patron group made up of the characters we came to know and love in Rebel Angels. So the Foundation takes on a bunch of colourful new characters and funds them to finish the opera and produce it. So we enter the world of theatre and music, and very theatrical it is, too. At the same time, the members of the Foundation are unconsciously living out their own King Arthur story, following the plot of the opera in the modern world. And on top of all this, Hoffmann himself, who has been languishing in limbo since his death, is taking a great interest in this production of his unfinished opera, looking down (or out?) upon it in the hopes that it will be produced successfully so that he can leave limbo and go on to wherever he’s going next.
Hoffman’s part is interesting, and not what I would have expected. He provides a commentary on how opera production in the 20th century is so different from that of his own time. He only gives us a few insights into his own life, and his commentary on what he wants from the opera only appears a couple of times. He is definitely not a prominent character. By excellent fortune, I happened to read Hoffmann’s book The Life and Adventures of the Tomcat Murr not long ago, and this book is referred to often in The Lyre of Orpheus. In Tomcat Murr, there are sections about a musician called Kreisler – ultra-romantic, emotional, full of unbearable joys and unbearable agony – the archetype of the Romantic artist. I had understood that Kreisler was modelled in some way on Hoffmann himself. Whether that is the case or not, Davies does not depict him like that here. The Hoffmann of The Lyre of Orpheus is strangely unemotional – maybe because he is in limbo? However, Powell, another character in the book, takes on this romantic role instead, though not exactly the same. The tomcat Murr himself is mentioned often throughout the book as a shortcut to explaining people who are self-satisfied and disinclined to grow or move on – what Hoffmann called Philistines. For me personally, it was an extra delight to read a Roberston Daveis book in which E.T.A. Hoffmann also featured. What a combination!
In What’s Bred in the Bone, Davies explores the idea of an artist’s thought and style belonging to a past age rather than in his own. Should an artist paint in a bygone style? Is it still art, or merely imitation? He asks these questions but doesn’t provide a definitive answer. Then, in The Lyre of Orpheus, this theme continues, as modern-day people try to create an opera in the style Hoffmann would have done over a century and a half earlier. Can it still be art? Can it still succeed? The reason I mention this is because I think it is a question that really meant something to Robertson Davies. He is a writer whose style and way of thinking belongs more to the 19th than the 20th century. He probably had to ask these questions of himself all his life. Maybe it’s the reason Davies isn’t as well known as I think he should be – because his art belongs to a past style, was never cutting edge or ‘new’, so maybe too many readers failed to see the strength of ideas in his work.
It feels as though I have left out so many things in this review that are worth talking about, but I have to stop somewhere. I loved the whole Cornish trilogy. I know I will read them again, more than once. I hope to read everything Davies ever wrote. These are great books, and deserve to be better known.
*To be quite fair, I must acknowledge that I certainly haven’t read everything published in these decades, and most notably I haven’t yet read David Foster Wallace. show less
Summary: The project of a gifted but difficult graduate student to realize an unfinished opera of E. T. A. Hoffman uncovers darker and hidden aspects in a number of the central characters who join in undertaking the project.
"The lyre of Orpheus opens the door of the underworld." -E. T. A. Hoffmann
E. T. A. Hoffmann was one of the major authors in the 19th century Romantic movement. He was something of a polymath who also wrote libretti to a number of operas, and composed Undine and other musical pieces. His greatest claim to musical fame probably was that three of his stories inspired Jacques Offenbach's Tales of Hoffmann. He died in 1822 at the age of 46, a victim of alcoholism and syphillis.
In this novel, the third in Davies' Cornish show more Trilogy (but can be read on its own), a difficult but talented graduate student, Hulda Schnakenburg ("Schnak") has proposed as her doctoral project to complete an unfinished opera by Hoffmann, Arthur of Britain or The Magnanimous Cuckold. The Cornish Foundation, established by a bequest of Francis Cornish have been approached with a request to fund what sounds like a long shot. But Arthur Cornish, perhaps already showing symptoms of the mumps which will render him sterile, forcefully persuades his fellow trustees, Maria (his gypsy wife), Simon Darcourt, a priest turned scholar and friend and biographer of Francis, Clem Hollier, an owlish scholar, and Geraint Powell, a charming actor friend, to proceed.
In deciding to make this music, the characters embark on a course that opens the door to "the underworld" of their own lives, facing them with choices of how they will proceed. For "Schnak" this comes in the form of the woman who becomes her advisor, Dr. Gunilla Dahl-Soot. Through both her musical mentoring, and a love affair between these women, "Schnak" comes out of the protective shell she developed to cope with a rigid religious upbringing and some abusive encounters with boyish men, to come into her own as a composer and a woman.
Others in the Cornish Foundation face underworlds of their own. When life imitates art and Maria conceives a child through a strange one night fling with actor-friend Powell, Arthur must decide how he will respond to his own cuckolding. Will he be "magnanimous" as well. Maria, the daughter of gypsies must decide between simply keeping up appearances as the wealthy wife of author, or assert the "Rabelasian" within her, to also be the daughter of her mother who lives in the basement "underworld" of her building.
Simon, the priest friend and "fixer" is perhaps the most interesting character. He is writing a biography of Francis Cornish, one with a big blank space in the middle of it. Along the way, he must decide whether the opportunity to gain this information (and as it turns out, the critical insight into his friend and a major art find) warrants theft and some devious maneuvering.
He is also the main librettist for the opera and here as well, he somewhat deviously "borrows" much of his work from a nineteenth century author. He must decide whether he will be the relatively colorless, competent and understanding friend, or at times act "the fool." Simon is disillusioned as a priest, but his keen sense of the human condition makes him the ideal narrator of this tale, seeing as he does, both his own, and other characters' "underworlds," and sometimes helping them see those "underworlds" for themselves.
There are several "breaks" in Simon's narrative when "ETAH in Limbo" speaks. This is the ghost of Hoffmann from the underworld, reflecting on his life, and the progress of the realization of his unfinished project. It is a curious device, that Davies uses, I think, to give us insight into Hoffmann, into private lives of the characters, including the love-making between Dahl-Soot and Schnak, and as well as what Hoffman thinks of the work he never finished.
All this happens as the project moves forward from composition to staging of the actual opera. Along the way, we get an inside glimpse of an opera production--staging, singers, director, costumers, the composer and librettists, and the most overlooked of all, the benefactors, who discover the painful realities of having lots of money to give away. Davies' experience as a scholar at the University of Toronto also comes through in the scenes where "Schnak" comes up for her doctoral defense and he portrays a truly believable episode of the kind of academic hazing these rites of academic passage involve.
Robertson Davies was one of Canada's best know novelists of the 20th century, passing away in 1995. Reading this work takes us into the Canadian artistic circles of Toronto and Stratford with which he was obviously well acquainted. There is a combination of humor and deep psychological insight in his writing. His plot moves forward as much in the development of his characters and their relations as in the action of the story, leaving us alternately to delight and to muse as Davies plays with a lyre of words to open doors into the underworlds of our lives. show less
"The lyre of Orpheus opens the door of the underworld." -E. T. A. Hoffmann
E. T. A. Hoffmann was one of the major authors in the 19th century Romantic movement. He was something of a polymath who also wrote libretti to a number of operas, and composed Undine and other musical pieces. His greatest claim to musical fame probably was that three of his stories inspired Jacques Offenbach's Tales of Hoffmann. He died in 1822 at the age of 46, a victim of alcoholism and syphillis.
In this novel, the third in Davies' Cornish show more Trilogy (but can be read on its own), a difficult but talented graduate student, Hulda Schnakenburg ("Schnak") has proposed as her doctoral project to complete an unfinished opera by Hoffmann, Arthur of Britain or The Magnanimous Cuckold. The Cornish Foundation, established by a bequest of Francis Cornish have been approached with a request to fund what sounds like a long shot. But Arthur Cornish, perhaps already showing symptoms of the mumps which will render him sterile, forcefully persuades his fellow trustees, Maria (his gypsy wife), Simon Darcourt, a priest turned scholar and friend and biographer of Francis, Clem Hollier, an owlish scholar, and Geraint Powell, a charming actor friend, to proceed.
In deciding to make this music, the characters embark on a course that opens the door to "the underworld" of their own lives, facing them with choices of how they will proceed. For "Schnak" this comes in the form of the woman who becomes her advisor, Dr. Gunilla Dahl-Soot. Through both her musical mentoring, and a love affair between these women, "Schnak" comes out of the protective shell she developed to cope with a rigid religious upbringing and some abusive encounters with boyish men, to come into her own as a composer and a woman.
Others in the Cornish Foundation face underworlds of their own. When life imitates art and Maria conceives a child through a strange one night fling with actor-friend Powell, Arthur must decide how he will respond to his own cuckolding. Will he be "magnanimous" as well. Maria, the daughter of gypsies must decide between simply keeping up appearances as the wealthy wife of author, or assert the "Rabelasian" within her, to also be the daughter of her mother who lives in the basement "underworld" of her building.
Simon, the priest friend and "fixer" is perhaps the most interesting character. He is writing a biography of Francis Cornish, one with a big blank space in the middle of it. Along the way, he must decide whether the opportunity to gain this information (and as it turns out, the critical insight into his friend and a major art find) warrants theft and some devious maneuvering.
He is also the main librettist for the opera and here as well, he somewhat deviously "borrows" much of his work from a nineteenth century author. He must decide whether he will be the relatively colorless, competent and understanding friend, or at times act "the fool." Simon is disillusioned as a priest, but his keen sense of the human condition makes him the ideal narrator of this tale, seeing as he does, both his own, and other characters' "underworlds," and sometimes helping them see those "underworlds" for themselves.
There are several "breaks" in Simon's narrative when "ETAH in Limbo" speaks. This is the ghost of Hoffmann from the underworld, reflecting on his life, and the progress of the realization of his unfinished project. It is a curious device, that Davies uses, I think, to give us insight into Hoffmann, into private lives of the characters, including the love-making between Dahl-Soot and Schnak, and as well as what Hoffman thinks of the work he never finished.
All this happens as the project moves forward from composition to staging of the actual opera. Along the way, we get an inside glimpse of an opera production--staging, singers, director, costumers, the composer and librettists, and the most overlooked of all, the benefactors, who discover the painful realities of having lots of money to give away. Davies' experience as a scholar at the University of Toronto also comes through in the scenes where "Schnak" comes up for her doctoral defense and he portrays a truly believable episode of the kind of academic hazing these rites of academic passage involve.
Robertson Davies was one of Canada's best know novelists of the 20th century, passing away in 1995. Reading this work takes us into the Canadian artistic circles of Toronto and Stratford with which he was obviously well acquainted. There is a combination of humor and deep psychological insight in his writing. His plot moves forward as much in the development of his characters and their relations as in the action of the story, leaving us alternately to delight and to muse as Davies plays with a lyre of words to open doors into the underworlds of our lives. show less
This is excerpted from my review of the entire Cornish trilogy.
In the final novel of the trilogy, Maria from the first novel has married Arthur Cornish, Francis Cornish's nephew and heir, and they have established a foundation to carry out Francis's legacy. Their first project is supporting an unformed but brilliant young musician who is attempting to fulfill the requirements for her doctorate by completing an unfinished opera about King Arthur by E. T. A. Hoffman. At the same time, Simon Darcourt, again from the first novel, is struggling with his biography of Francis, also commissioned by the foundation, because he doesn't know, what readers of the second novel know, about Francis's wartime years in Europe.
The creation of the opera show more gives Davies free rein to depict the artistic and theatrical processes, explore connections between the contemporary characters and those of the Arthurian legend, introduce some wonderful new characters to the mix, and allow some familiar characters the opportunity to grow and discover themselves. Towards the very end, Davies quotes Keats: "A Man's life of any worth is a continual allegory -- and very few can see the Mystery of his life." Davies' genius is that he lets us see the mystery and the allegorical aspects of his characters while keeping their feet firmly on the ground of this world. show less
In the final novel of the trilogy, Maria from the first novel has married Arthur Cornish, Francis Cornish's nephew and heir, and they have established a foundation to carry out Francis's legacy. Their first project is supporting an unformed but brilliant young musician who is attempting to fulfill the requirements for her doctorate by completing an unfinished opera about King Arthur by E. T. A. Hoffman. At the same time, Simon Darcourt, again from the first novel, is struggling with his biography of Francis, also commissioned by the foundation, because he doesn't know, what readers of the second novel know, about Francis's wartime years in Europe.
The creation of the opera show more gives Davies free rein to depict the artistic and theatrical processes, explore connections between the contemporary characters and those of the Arthurian legend, introduce some wonderful new characters to the mix, and allow some familiar characters the opportunity to grow and discover themselves. Towards the very end, Davies quotes Keats: "A Man's life of any worth is a continual allegory -- and very few can see the Mystery of his life." Davies' genius is that he lets us see the mystery and the allegorical aspects of his characters while keeping their feet firmly on the ground of this world. show less
I reached this by way of Hoffmann, of course, he being a minor but constant obsession of mine, with additional interest-weight added by way of Orpheus and Davies. I meant to read it back in my first or second year of undergrad and even took it out of the library. In fact I think I got pretty far into it because I remembered the "pastiche/pistache" conversation before exams hit or school ended and I had to return the book to the library. Despite that, I talked about this book a lot. Really, it was very disproportional for a book that I hadn't read and that no one else was talking about, meaning I deliberately brought it up in the conversation. Given that I read [b:The Life and Opinions of the Tomcat Murr|594852|The Life and Opinions of show more the Tomcat Murr|E.T.A. Hoffmann|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1375745289s/594852.jpg|581567] earlier this year and only heightened my Hoffmania it really seemed high time to take it out again. Another university library, but the exact same edition, conveniently.
I've got to note, before I go on though, that I once had a professor of Arthurian literature who was also a Canadian Lit prof (which, I mean, perfect marriage for this book, right?). He's since been awarded both the Order of Ontario and the Order of Canada. And someone in my class, I don't think it was me, asked him during a break about Roberston Davies, and I just clearly remember him saying that he didn't find Davies that interesting. He asked, why would he care to read about upper-middle class white people?
That got me, and that haunted me, and especially when I started reading this book again I couldn't stop thinking of his remark. It made me dislike everybody to start with, and given that I haven't read [b:The Rebel Angels|74405|The Rebel Angels (Cornish Trilogy, #1)|Robertson Davies|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1387741372s/74405.jpg|1336027] or [b:What's Bred in the Bone|265767|What's Bred in the Bone (Cornish Trilogy, #2)|Robertson Davies|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1328019283s/265767.jpg|2994820] (Davies trilogies aren't hard-sequential trilogies) I didn't have much in the way of back-story that might've potentially made me fonder. For the first half I was thinking mostly about how I wasn't in love with the voice of Hoffmann's ghost the way I wanted to be (not nearly frenetic enough for the Hoff, but I suppose limbo will do that) and how these characters were, in actuality, not that interesting. And yes, in quite a lot of way they're really not. But then by the second half of the book I was craving more, and luxuriating in the book, really sinking in and looking forward to whatever time I could find to keep reading, and there's a part of me that's really sad that I won't have more of it to look forward to reading before bed tonight. (I bought a copy of The Rebel Angels at a bookstore just the other day though I've got a few library books to read before I can get to it, and part of me thinks I should savour.) I don't know how that happened. I don't know what Davies did. All I know is that suddenly even though Al Crane's appearance is in the style of this very-Canadian American caricature, it hollowed me out inside when he talked about Mabel, "a twenty-two year old woman," wanting her mother. Christ, Davies, hold nothing back. show less
I've got to note, before I go on though, that I once had a professor of Arthurian literature who was also a Canadian Lit prof (which, I mean, perfect marriage for this book, right?). He's since been awarded both the Order of Ontario and the Order of Canada. And someone in my class, I don't think it was me, asked him during a break about Roberston Davies, and I just clearly remember him saying that he didn't find Davies that interesting. He asked, why would he care to read about upper-middle class white people?
That got me, and that haunted me, and especially when I started reading this book again I couldn't stop thinking of his remark. It made me dislike everybody to start with, and given that I haven't read [b:The Rebel Angels|74405|The Rebel Angels (Cornish Trilogy, #1)|Robertson Davies|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1387741372s/74405.jpg|1336027] or [b:What's Bred in the Bone|265767|What's Bred in the Bone (Cornish Trilogy, #2)|Robertson Davies|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1328019283s/265767.jpg|2994820] (Davies trilogies aren't hard-sequential trilogies) I didn't have much in the way of back-story that might've potentially made me fonder. For the first half I was thinking mostly about how I wasn't in love with the voice of Hoffmann's ghost the way I wanted to be (not nearly frenetic enough for the Hoff, but I suppose limbo will do that) and how these characters were, in actuality, not that interesting. And yes, in quite a lot of way they're really not. But then by the second half of the book I was craving more, and luxuriating in the book, really sinking in and looking forward to whatever time I could find to keep reading, and there's a part of me that's really sad that I won't have more of it to look forward to reading before bed tonight. (I bought a copy of The Rebel Angels at a bookstore just the other day though I've got a few library books to read before I can get to it, and part of me thinks I should savour.) I don't know how that happened. I don't know what Davies did. All I know is that suddenly even though Al Crane's appearance is in the style of this very-Canadian American caricature, it hollowed me out inside when he talked about Mabel, "a twenty-two year old woman," wanting her mother. Christ, Davies, hold nothing back. show less
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"But this novel, from its overdetermined title to its predetermined end, never releases its hold on the mind's more abstract functions even as it grapples to stir up emotional depths. Let's hope that the urge to summation is vastly premature, and that Mr. Davies goes on to give us three-times-three more novels that amaze, delight, instruct and infuriate. "
added by GYKM
Il n'y a rien de sec
ou de bref chez Robertson Davies. Il s'agit d'un
coureur de fond, je vous l'ai dit Chacun de ses
personnages (et ils sont innombrables) a sa
chance. Son côté ombre et son côté soleil. L'ironie
du romancier ne brûle que les mauvaises
herbes. Autrement dit, sa « Lyre d'Orphée » résonne
aussi de tous les accords de la véritable
générosité romanesque. Un régal de show more l'intelligence
et du coeur. Le plus chaleureux des livres
méchants. Ou le contraire. show less
ou de bref chez Robertson Davies. Il s'agit d'un
coureur de fond, je vous l'ai dit Chacun de ses
personnages (et ils sont innombrables) a sa
chance. Son côté ombre et son côté soleil. L'ironie
du romancier ne brûle que les mauvaises
herbes. Autrement dit, sa « Lyre d'Orphée » résonne
aussi de tous les accords de la véritable
générosité romanesque. Un régal de show more l'intelligence
et du coeur. Le plus chaleureux des livres
méchants. Ou le contraire. show less
added by Ariane65
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William Robertson Davies was born in Thamesville, Ontario in 1913. He taught English at the University of Toronto and was an actor, journalist, and newspaper editor before winning acclaim as a novelist with Tempest-Tost, the first of his Salterton trilogy. His most famous trilogy, The Deptford Trilogy--Fifth Business, The Manticore, and World of show more Wonders--develops the earlier Salterton novels. The locale is a fictitious Ontario city that prizes its English tradition, including the Anglican Church and the genealogy of the old families. Robertson's novels have been translated into approximately 20 languages. His masterful story-telling encompasses such issues as evil, love, fear, tradition, and magic as he brings his characters to life with wisdom and humor. Robertson Davies died in 1995. (Bowker Author Biography) Robertson Davies (1913-1995) had three successive careers during the time he became an internationally acclaimed author: first as an actor with the Old Vic Company in England; then as publisher of "The Peterborough Ontario Examiner"; & finally as professor & first master of Massey College at the University of Toronto. With twelve novels & several volumes of essays & plays to his credit, Davies was the first Canadian to be inducted to the American Academy & Institute of Arts & Letters. His last novel, "The Cunning Man" (Viking 1995), was a national bestseller. (Publisher Provided) show less
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Common Knowledge
- Canonical title
- The Lyre of Orpheus
- Original publication date
- 1988
- People/Characters
- Francis Cornish; Simon Darcourt; Arthur Cornish; Maria Cornish; E. T. A. Hoffmann; Hulda Schnakenburg
- Important places
- Stratford, Ontario, Canada
- Epigraph*
- La lyre d'Orphée ouvre la porte du royaume des ombres.
E.T.A. Hoffmann - First words*
- Maître dans l'art de présider, Arthur résuma la réunion pour amener celle-ci à sa conclusion.
- Quotations
- He now regarded himself as a biographer, and the scruples of a biographer are peculiar to the trade. Any hesitation he felt was not about how could he bring himself to steal, but how could he steal without being found out?
The life of a librettist is the life of a dog. Worse than the playwright, who may have to satisfy monsters of egotism with new scenes, new jokes, chances to do what they have done successfully before; but the playwright can, ... (show all)to some degree, choose the form of his scenes and his speeches. The librettist must obey the tyrant composer, whose literary taste may be that of a peasant, and who thinks of nothing but his music.
'What would you say if I accused you of stealing musical ideas?’
‘I would deny it indignantly. But you are too clever to be deceived, and you
know that many musicians borrow and adapt ideas, and usually they com... (show all)e out
so that only a very subtle critic can see what has happened. Because what
one borrows goes through one’s own creative stomach and comes out something
quite different.’ - Last words*
- (Click to show. Warning: May contain spoilers.)"Mais, pour moi, tu l'es", affirma Maria
*Some information comes from Common Knowledge in other languages. Click "Edit" for more information.
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