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498 pages, Hardcover
First published September 7, 2021
There were two men that he did not become and he might make a book from them if he could conjure up their spirits properly. One was himself without his talent, without his ambition, but with the same sensibility. Someone fully at ease in a German democracy. A man who liked chamber music, lyric poetry, domestic quietness, gradual reform. A man, all conscience, who would have stayed in Germany even as Germany became barbaric, living a fearful life as an internal exile.Toward the end of the novel, Toíbín beautifully interpolates an episode from Bach’s famous visit to Buxtehude in Lübeck with Mann’s nostalgic reminiscences of his childhood, mother, siblings, the demolished Buddenbrook house, the vanished world of yesterday… I realized how much Toíbín succeeded to emotionally involve his reader with all of their lives that when I re-read the last pages, this time wanting to share them aloud with my SO, I was surprised that I had difficulty holding back my tears (don’t want to sound melodramatic, but that’s true).
The other man was someone who did not know caution, whose imagination was as fiery and uncompromising as his sexual appetite, a man who destroyed those who loved him, who sought to make an art that was austere and contemptuous of all tradition, an art as dangerous as the world coming into shape. A man who had been brushed by demons, whose talent was the result of a pact with demons.
[…] Music made him unstable. But as he followed the short movement with its lovely march beats and dance beats, and then the final movement with its lack of hesitancy, its flowing elegance, he felt that the two men he had imagined, the two shadow versions of who he was, would not leave him, as other such imaginings had left him. They would fit into what he had already been dreaming of, his book about a composer who, like Faust, formed a pact with the devil. [a few passages later]… It was the very culture itself, he thought, the actual culture that had formed him and people like him, that contained the seeds of its own destruction.