"Written with a sensitivity and emotional depth akin to Bartok's own nature, this remarkable book expans its own limits to convey not only the composer's background and extraordinary personality, but an insight into the whole nature of the creative process and its frequent conflict with the ordinary world."
Did I read the same book as everyone else here? I love Bartoks music— he is my favorite artist of the 20th century. But according to the author’s memories, he seems like a complete and total jerk! Honest to the point of rude, never smiling, treats his wife like crap, and can’t write music unless it is the exact perfect setting to fit his needs… I have to wipe this book out of my memory if I want to continue listening to his amazing music!
I first read this book when it came out, in 1958. I was just a kid then, but I liked it to the extent that I could understand it. I read it another time in 1981, the Bartók centennial year. I found it a beautiful work, but it also seemed to me that it was somewhat self-serving. Not long afterward I learned that it contained many "alternative facts" as we would say now. It might best be described as a novel "based on a true story" to borrow another current expression. It remained a beautiful read, though, as it did when I re-read it a few months ago.