In this second article on
Akira Mizubayashi's novel Âme brisée, we will explore two activities:
listening to music and performing music.
What works does the author mention in his novel? Two works are essential to the
novel: the Rosamunde string quartet by Franz Schubert and the “Gavotte
en Rondeau” from J.S. Bach's third partita. They appear numerous times,
providing rhythm and thematic unity to the text. There appears to be a form of
dialog between the two works, or at least, a complementarity. One expresses
melancholy, the other carelessness; one is performed in its entirety, the other
is an extract. Readers witness this duality the very first time the works are
mentioned: Schubert's music is heard in an environment of kinship and benevolence;
Bach's music is heard in an atmosphere of terror and despair. Thus, music
helps to balance out the dramatic tension of the novel.
How to position oneself with regard to the repertoire in times of war is one of
the main questions of the book. To whom do the works belong? Rei's father has
the answer: they are part of “world heritage” (“patrimoine de l'humanité”, p.
66). Lieutenant Kurokami agrees: “The Rosamunde and the Gavotte
will outlive us, that's for certain (“La Rosamunde et La Gavotte vont
vivre plus longtemps que nous, c’est certain”). This idea contradicts
caporal Tanaka's judgment, in which he expresses distrust for music which “isn't
from around here” (“pas de chez [eux]”, p. 53). Much later in the novel, we
learn about the lieutenant's hatred for military music, whose only purpose is “to
transform soldiers into cattle” (“à transformer les soldats en têtes de bétail”) and
to “rob a man of his individual essence” (qui « [enlève] à l’homme son
essence individuelle”, p. 141).
What other musical works can we find in the text? Beethoven's third string
quartet from opus 18 is performed by the Alban Berg quartet (p. 84) but Jacques
doesn't listen to the work since the radio host's announcement comes on the
heels of the performance, when our hero turns on the radio. In what seems to be
a mere anecdote, we learn that a Japanese family on a musical pilgrimage
attended Yehudi Menuhin's interpretation of the Concerto for violon and
orchestra in Paris (p. 137). Thus, the author
sprinkles his narration with performances of Beethoven’s music. One must wait
until the rendition of the 7th symphony (p. 202) at Pleyel
before Jacques gives readers his point of view on the music (p. 202). With
Furtwängler’s 1943 interpretation in mind, he hears in Beethoven's music the
expression of a great and ever-present affirmation of life, (“d’un immense et
indéfectible désir d’affirmation de l’existence”). In the same concert
program, Alban Berg's To the Memory of an Angel makes the
violin our focal point once again (it is a concerto) and prepares us for
Helen's words of praise at the end of the story.
What powers can music have in times of peace? It can heal survivors of war.
Thus, lieutenant Kurokami spends most of his free time after the war listening
to the six string quartets Mozart dedicated to Haydn or Beethoven's last string
quartets (“les six quatuors dédiés à Haydn ou les derniers quatuors de
Beethoven”) as well as Schubert's Rosamunde or Death and
the Maiden and Bach's Sonatas and Partitas for Solo Violin. As
Hélène observes, certain types of music can “wake the dead” (“réveiller
les morts”, p. 222). When a world class soloist interprets a masterpiece on an
instrument with an extraordinary history, anything can happen. Why not share
the experience with Jacques and Hélène at the salle Pleyel? The author has placed
them in seats, which are acoustically ideal (“places acoustiquement
optimales”, p. 201).
Mizubayashi, Akira, Âme brisée, Gallimard, 2019
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