In 2010 star conductor Seiji Ozawa, then in his mid-70s, had to settle down for a while to convalesce from a series of serious health problems. Haruki Murakami, his celebrated countryman and a genuine classical music buff, filled in the gap with a series of long conversations on all things musical. Murakami is an avid record collector but doesn't know how to read music. So he is essentially a dilettante who had the privilege to quiz a supremely experienced professional musician. The results are not always equally satisfying. In their first conversation, Murakami puts Ozawa in a chair and subjects him to a review of different performances of Beethoven's Third Piano Concerto (including one of his own recordings). Ozawa doesn't seem to be really interested, and the exchange is rather wooden. He even admits not liking "those manic record collectors - people with lots of money, superb music reproduction equipment, and tons of records (...) You go in, and they've got everything ever recorded by Furtwängler, say, but the people themselves are so busy they can't spend any time at home listening to music." It's a curiously judgmental statement, particularly by a Japanese, which I take to be an expression of Ozawa's annoyance with Murakami's opening conversational gambit.
Slowly Murakami gets on track. The second conversation zooms in on Ozawa's relationship with the Saito Kinen orchestra he helped to establish. This is a group of elite players that comes together for a month each year to study and perform carefully selected, string-oriented repertoire under Ozawa's guidance. The sixth and final exchange is set against the background of another one of the conductor's pet projects, the summertime Ozawa Acedemy for young string players on the shores of Lake Geneva. In between they talk about Ozawa's experiences in the 1960s as assistant conductor to Leonard Bernstein, his love for opera (Ozawa led the Wiener Staatsoper for eight years) and his relationship to the music of Mahler.
Overall I have mixed feelings about the book. Ozawa is a superbly intuitive artist but not a great thinker about music. At one point he admits: "You know, talking about these things with you like this, it's gradually begun to dawn on me that I'm not the kind of person who thinks about things in this way. When I study a piece of music, I concentrate fairly deeply on the score. And the more I concentrate, probably, the less I think about other things. I just think about the music itself. I guess I could say that I depend entirely on what comes between me and the music." Later on in the book, this is reinforced when he says: "Yes, in both my conducting and my teaching. I don't approach either with preconceived ideas. (...) I don't have anything to say until I've got a musician right in front of me." So Ozawa is at his best when he reminisces about his contacts with fellow conductors (Karajan amongst them), soloists and opera singers. But he is uncommunicative when the conversation veers away from the personal and experiential.
I sympathised with Murakami in the sense that, as a classical music aficionado, I'm coming from a very similar place. Like him, I've built up a vast record collection and amassed an encyclopaedic knowledge of the field. But also I am not able to play an instrument or read music. So there is this curious and frustrating feeling of being shut out of this world we love so much. On the whole, Murakami does a commendable job as an amateur music lover and interviewer. Nevertheless, I found myself frustrated in many cases by his coquettish but unnecessary display of expertise or his failure to follow up on interesting leads. For instance, one motto theme throughout the book is Ozawa's deep love for the orchestra's string section. He picked this up from his early mentor Professor Saito who promoted an idea of 'talkative strings'. However, the deeper grounds for this fascination with strings remain in the dark. Murakami never digs deeper into the issue.
I wonder who the target audience is for this book. Readers who are not familiar with classical music will be put off by the endless parade of composers' and performers' names. I personally, as an experienced listener, didn't pick up a lot of new things from this book. Certainly, Ozawa shares some amusing anecdotes. And one gets a (still very fragmented) perspective on his long career. Also scattered through the book are the elements of a blurry, somewhat coherent picture of how Ozawa understands his craft as a conductor. But again, Murakami does not pull together these strands in the narrative. Probably the most interesting experience related to this book is that it prompted me to reflect on what questions I would like to ask when faced with the opportunity to sit down with a person like Seiji Ozawa. It's not an easy question to answer. My former interactions with scholars, musicians and composers have led to mutual bewilderment as we seem to be interested in very different things. The Georgian composer Giya Kancheli once laughed out loud and reproached me for taking music too seriously. "Don't think about it," he said, "You just have to let it wash over you."