Skip to main content

"Kitchen Radio"

Richard Yates wrote a novel with a symbolic title: “Revolutionary Road.”

Somewhere deep in suburbia, April and Frank Wheeler struggle with daily life, to the point where the housewife devises an escape plan for the whole family. This cautionary tale of domestic nightmare mentions two classical composers (Mozart and Beethoven), swing era luminaries (Gene Krupa, Benny Goodman, Glenn Miller and Artie Shaw) and a singer (Eddie Kantor). The text also mentions big band numbers (“One O’clock Jump”, “String of Pearls”) and a song (“That’s the Kind of Baby for Me”). 

Music is also present in the remembrances of radio shows from the thirties (“Bobby Benson,” “Little Orphan Annie,” “Jack Armstrong,” “The Shadow” and “The Green Hornet,” which doesn’t quite make it on the list). Although there is no reference to music in this passage, it would be difficult to conjure up a memory of a children’s program without hearing its musical theme (p. 191). In fact, one of the book’s most vivid musical description comes from a passage in which our two main protagonists are arguing while their children are watching cartoons (p. 206-209). 

The characters’ relationship to music is generally passive. One of the prime examples is “Holiday For Strings”: the music seems to blend in perfectly with the oppressive setting of the bank as the employees of Knox (the company Frank works for) wait in line to deposit their paychecks (p. 170). Frank feels he is being dehumanized. The author uses the word “muzac.” Here, as in other instances, background music is a symbol of the mindlessness of modern life. 

So, naturally, the music tends to be generic. It is usually playing somewhere in the background. Just as the characters are vaguely aware of it, the author rarely gives readers precisions. As mentioned earlier, the names of the Viennese composers do come but the pieces, let alone the genre, is never identified.  “A soaring phrase of Beethoven on the kitchen radio” of Mrs. Givings becomes a trigger for a strange mix of emotions (p. 156). Although there is a greater tranquility in the Wheelers’ kitchen before the visit of John Givings, the description of Frank’s pleasant feelings is a little disconcerting. It happens to coincide with some unidentified Mozart music, which the radio is “dimly” playing (p. 182). 

When the characters try to engage with the music, the result leaves an impression of inadequacy. Dances and rhythmic gestures lack subtlety and grace. When the Wheelers invite their neighbors, Shep and Milly, to Vito’s Log Cabin, the four of them become a curious display of energy. Milly’s dance with Frank makes her physically sick. Alice and Shep’s jitterbugging is awkward, desperate and delusional. In the next chapter, an exotic dance has the opposite effect it was intended for, making characters even more vulnerable than they were at the start of the scene. These efforts come too late in life: seduction at the end of a love affair; catching up with dance trends that are twenty years old. 

The act of singing is just as perilous. The children’s rendition of “Happy Birthday” is “slow and shrill” (p. 104). Shep’s big band impressions are ridiculous (p. 136). The only time Frank sings, he doesn’t use his own voice but impersonates Eddie Cantor to entertain Alice (p. 220). So, even at its most effective, singing is not a genuine act. Moreover, “That’s the Kind of Baby for Me” has some pretty cynical lyrics if one cares to listen to the song.

Follow this link to hear a mash-up of "A String of Pearls," "Holiday for Strings" and "That's the Kind of a Baby for Me." 


Yates, Richard. Revolutionary Road, Vintage Books, 2009
 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Coming Through Slaughter", by Michael Ondaatje (2)

I have written before about Michael Ondaatje’s novel Coming Through Slaughter (here’s the link to the English version ). A few recent searches led me to an article by Emily Petermann and the albums of Dave Lisik and Jerry Granelli. Back in 2010, Emily Petermann published an article entitled “Unheard Jazz: Music and History in Michael Ondaatje’s Coming Through Slaughter ” . Thanks to this article, I have learned the meaning of the term “ekphrasis” as it applies to the description of music in literature.   Back in 2009, Dave Lisik released a whole album based on the Ondaatje novel: Coming Through Slaughter, The Bolden Legend . Each track title is a reference to a scene from the book. If you listen to the opening track, you too will marvel at the beauty of the low end of the trombone’s range. Hear how effectively the Bb signals a repeat of the theme’s first section, as though the whole ensemble was breathing through that one tone. And what about the drummer’s cross stick work a

Hésitant, Rusé, Nerveux, Doux

Philip Roth a écrit un court roman au titre en forme d’adieux : Goodbye, Columbus . Neil Klugman, le narrateur, entame une relation amoureuse, avec Brenda Patimkin. Les Patimkin sont plus riches que la famille de Neil. Il vit avec sa tante à Newark, tandis que les Patimkin vivent à Short Hills.     L’histoire mentionne Kostelanetz et Mantovani. Des titres de chanson tels que “Night and Day,” “I Get a Kick out of You,” “Get Me to the Church on Time” ainsi que le titre de la comédie musicale My Fair Lady apparaissent dans le texte. Ce n’est que dans la seconde moitié du roman que la musique gagne du terrain. Cependant le plus merveilleux des passages sur l’expression musicale se trouve dans la première moitié du texte. Et il ne concerne pas de chanson existante. Et il ne se rapporte pas à un genre musical précis. Neil et Brenda, deux jeunes amants, apprennent à exprimer leurs sentiments l’un pour l’autre dans un échange de vers improvisés qui est à la fois timide et en

"Grandiose, in a corrupted romantic style"

Next up in our cast for Ian McEwan's revisiting of Hamlet is Claude, the hero’s uncle.   He conspires to kill his brother, John, with the help of his lover (and sister-in-law), Trudy. She is pregnant with our hero-narrator, whose hatred of Claude has some roots in the man's musical ignorance. The patronym brings about the first mention of a European composer. Whenever he introduces himself, the plotting uncle says “Claude, as in Debussy,” so as to help with the pronunciation of his name. This does not fail to disgust our narrator. (Chapter One, p. 5). For the man seems to revel in his ignorance. Claude conjures up the French composer's name as a mere icebreaker, without any interest for the composer’s works.  Our fetus-narrator sets us right immediately: “This is Claude as in property developer who composes nothing, invents nothing.” At the beginning of Chapter Three, the narrator tries to understand who his uncle really is. The description addresses the musical featu