What do you think?
Rate this book
Hearing Beethoven: A Story of Musical Loss and Discovery
Wallace demystifies the narratives of Beethoven’s approach to his hearing loss and instead explores how Beethoven did not "conquer" his deafness; he adapted to life with it.
We’re all familiar with the image of a fierce and scowling Beethoven, struggling doggedly to overcome his rapidly progressing deafness. That Beethoven continued to play and compose for more than a decade after he lost his hearing is often seen as an act of superhuman heroism. But the truth is that Beethoven’s response to his deafness was entirely human. And by demystifying what he did, we can learn a great deal about Beethoven’s music. Perhaps no one is better positioned to help us do so than Robin Wallace, who not only has dedicated his life to the music of Beethoven but also has close personal experience with deafness. One day, Wallace’s late wife, Barbara, found she couldn’t hear out of her right ear—the result of radiation administered to treat a brain tumor early in life. Three years later, she lost hearing in her left ear as well. Over the eight and a half years that remained of her life, despite receiving a cochlear implant, Barbara didn’t overcome her deafness or ever function again like a hearing person.
Wallace shows here that Beethoven didn’t do those things, either. Rather than heroically overcoming his deafness, Beethoven accomplished something even more he adapted to his hearing loss and changed the way he interacted with music, revealing important aspects of its very nature in the process. Wallace tells the story of Beethoven’s creative life, interweaving it with his and Barbara’s experience to reveal aspects that only living with deafness could open up. The resulting insights make Beethoven and his music more accessible and help us see how a disability can enhance human wholeness and flourishing.
We’re all familiar with the image of a fierce and scowling Beethoven, struggling doggedly to overcome his rapidly progressing deafness. That Beethoven continued to play and compose for more than a decade after he lost his hearing is often seen as an act of superhuman heroism. But the truth is that Beethoven’s response to his deafness was entirely human. And by demystifying what he did, we can learn a great deal about Beethoven’s music. Perhaps no one is better positioned to help us do so than Robin Wallace, who not only has dedicated his life to the music of Beethoven but also has close personal experience with deafness. One day, Wallace’s late wife, Barbara, found she couldn’t hear out of her right ear—the result of radiation administered to treat a brain tumor early in life. Three years later, she lost hearing in her left ear as well. Over the eight and a half years that remained of her life, despite receiving a cochlear implant, Barbara didn’t overcome her deafness or ever function again like a hearing person.
Wallace shows here that Beethoven didn’t do those things, either. Rather than heroically overcoming his deafness, Beethoven accomplished something even more he adapted to his hearing loss and changed the way he interacted with music, revealing important aspects of its very nature in the process. Wallace tells the story of Beethoven’s creative life, interweaving it with his and Barbara’s experience to reveal aspects that only living with deafness could open up. The resulting insights make Beethoven and his music more accessible and help us see how a disability can enhance human wholeness and flourishing.
288 pages, Hardcover
Published October 16, 2018
18 people are currently reading
132 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
March 10, 2020
UPDATE (3/10/2020): By sheer coincidence, I was tooling around on YouTube a day after finishing this book and I came across a Dan Rather interview of Crosby Stills & Nash. I'm a big, unabashed fan. And while I love them as an ensemble, I've always considered Stills a musical genius. In the interview I learned that Stills is totally deaf in his right ear and 70% deaf in his left ear. And, that this hearing impairment was detected when he was nine years-old. I wish Rather would have asked him the Beethoven question.
_____ _____ _____ _____
ORIGINAL REVIEW:
This is a book about Beethoven's profound hearing impairment. The author, a Beethoven scholar, considers the impact of the impairment on two things: Beethoven's creative process and his social connectivity.
This is also the story of the author's (second) wife who was rendered deaf because of treatment for a brain tumor. Her deafness, perhaps as profound as Beethoven's, similarly affected her vocation and her sociability.
And so the author interweaves the two stories, each one informing the other.
There is much to learn here, about the different hearing "aids" that Beethoven tried, as well as the science and treatment of deafness generally. However, the sections dealing with his wife's hearing loss seemed a bit repetitive, as if the author was padding what would otherwise have been a monograph.
On a personal note, I understand how physical impairments can affect one's sociability. I have no doubt that Beethoven's deafness negatively affected his. Yet, Beethoven did not resort to isolation. On the contrary. And while his deafness may have caused some misanthropy, it's just as likely that he was misanthropic anyway.
_____ _____ _____ _____
ORIGINAL REVIEW:
This is a book about Beethoven's profound hearing impairment. The author, a Beethoven scholar, considers the impact of the impairment on two things: Beethoven's creative process and his social connectivity.
This is also the story of the author's (second) wife who was rendered deaf because of treatment for a brain tumor. Her deafness, perhaps as profound as Beethoven's, similarly affected her vocation and her sociability.
And so the author interweaves the two stories, each one informing the other.
There is much to learn here, about the different hearing "aids" that Beethoven tried, as well as the science and treatment of deafness generally. However, the sections dealing with his wife's hearing loss seemed a bit repetitive, as if the author was padding what would otherwise have been a monograph.
On a personal note, I understand how physical impairments can affect one's sociability. I have no doubt that Beethoven's deafness negatively affected his. Yet, Beethoven did not resort to isolation. On the contrary. And while his deafness may have caused some misanthropy, it's just as likely that he was misanthropic anyway.
January 12, 2019
I've long understood that deafness is a profoundly isolating condition. My great aunt Hazel, my paternal grandmother's younger sister, became deaf at the age of eighteen months when she contracted influenza during the devastating 1918 epidemic. My great-grandmother always said that the doctor gave Hazel too much quinine, but in all the reading I have done about the so-called Spanish flu since then, I suspect that it was intense inflammation of the ears due to the flu that destroyed Hazel's hearing. Because of the young age at which she lost her hearing completely, she also never learned to speak.
My great-grandparents sent Hazel to the new Tennessee School for the Deaf in Knoxville where she learned sign language and the standard academic fare. There she also met a young man--a deaf man--who wanted to marry her. My great-grandfather refused, fearing that a deaf man would not be able to care for Hazel. Instead, from her late teens she lived with my great-grandparents, and her social interactions were largely confined to family. Many of her younger siblings learned to finger-spell or use ASL, but most of the people around Hazel could not converse with her except by means of writing back and forth.
After my great-grandfather died in the mid 1950s, Hazel continued to live with her mother until she, too, died in 1968. Then for a few years, she moved from one sister's home to another, staying for a month or six weeks at a time with each before starting the circuit again. But she was unhappy with this arrangement, and I imagine that the sisters and their families found it difficult as well. Locked inside herself much of the time, Hazel was prone to tantrums. Now I understand that she suffered from deep frustration and also undoubtedly from depression. A year or two after my great-grandmother's death, my grandmother (who was also Hazel's guardian) found a small apartment for Hazel. Later on she would move into her own house.
I spent a fair bit of time with Hazel as a child, and I loved her. I would sit and write back and forth to her. She seemed interested in whatever was on my young mind, and I liked the attention. In those days before closed captioning, television meant little to Hazel. She spent many hours reading and doing needlework, and she also spent a lot of time just sitting and staring into space. Even in my child self-absorption, I understood that Hazel was largely cut off from the world and profoundly lonely. But she was also lively and fun-loving with a terrific sense of humor and the endearing ability to laugh at herself that was shared by the members of her family.
Sometime in her 50s, Hazel was diagnosed with glaucoma. I don't know the details of her diagnosis, but I know that she was gradually losing her sight. My grandmother took her to classes to learn Braille and arranged for regular deliveries of Braille books from the state office of services for the blind, but I watched as Hazel's world grew smaller and smaller. By the time I was a teenager, she never left the house except in the company of a family member or a caregiver and then it was rarely to do more than go to the doctor. The summer I was 19, my grandmother hired me to paint several interior rooms in Hazel's house. In the weeks I spent in and out every day, I could see that Hazel was becoming increasingly isolated and unhappy. When I tried to talk with her, she seemed uninterested in having conversations. Hazel died a few years later. I've come to see Hazel's life as the tragic story of the ways that loved ones (in this case, her parents) stunt the lives of disabled people in the name of protecting them. By refusing to allow Hazel to live as normal a life as possible with marriage and children, they denied her the right to the fullest life possible.
Because of Hazel, I've always been interested in the stories of people who have navigated deafness, and that's one thing that drew me to this book. The other is that I know the author. Robin Wallace was my colleague at Converse College for a few years before he moved on to Baylor University. He was a brilliant Beethoven scholar, a superb teacher, and a gentle man. I met his wife Barbara a few times, and I knew that she suffered from severe hearing loss. Robin and I have stayed in touch via Facebook, and I had followed the story of Barbara's sudden deafness and her untimely death. But I didn't know the half of their struggle.
This is a lovely and haunting book. In it, Robin tells a braided tale of Beethoven's deafness and how the composer adapted his technique and his style in order to continue composing great music in the wake of his disability and also of Barbara's hearing loss and the remarkable ways that she adapted. He offers insights into the complex ways that the ears and the brain interact to produce the way of connecting with the world that we call hearing.
At this point, I should also say that I am not a musician in spite of spending a good 15 years singing in choirs in my adolescence and early adulthood. I can follow the basics of a musical score, but my understanding of musicology is almost nil, so I wasn't sure I'd be able to follow this book.
I needn't have worried. Wallace explains complex concepts of musical theory and composition in ways that are accessible to a non-musician reader.
But most of all, he presents two remarkable human beings--one from the eighteenth/nineteenth century and one from today--who manage to find wholeness in the face of tragic personal loss. And it gave me a deeper understanding and appreciation for my Aunt Hazel who also struggled to achieve wholeness within the constraints imposed on her.
My great-grandparents sent Hazel to the new Tennessee School for the Deaf in Knoxville where she learned sign language and the standard academic fare. There she also met a young man--a deaf man--who wanted to marry her. My great-grandfather refused, fearing that a deaf man would not be able to care for Hazel. Instead, from her late teens she lived with my great-grandparents, and her social interactions were largely confined to family. Many of her younger siblings learned to finger-spell or use ASL, but most of the people around Hazel could not converse with her except by means of writing back and forth.
After my great-grandfather died in the mid 1950s, Hazel continued to live with her mother until she, too, died in 1968. Then for a few years, she moved from one sister's home to another, staying for a month or six weeks at a time with each before starting the circuit again. But she was unhappy with this arrangement, and I imagine that the sisters and their families found it difficult as well. Locked inside herself much of the time, Hazel was prone to tantrums. Now I understand that she suffered from deep frustration and also undoubtedly from depression. A year or two after my great-grandmother's death, my grandmother (who was also Hazel's guardian) found a small apartment for Hazel. Later on she would move into her own house.
I spent a fair bit of time with Hazel as a child, and I loved her. I would sit and write back and forth to her. She seemed interested in whatever was on my young mind, and I liked the attention. In those days before closed captioning, television meant little to Hazel. She spent many hours reading and doing needlework, and she also spent a lot of time just sitting and staring into space. Even in my child self-absorption, I understood that Hazel was largely cut off from the world and profoundly lonely. But she was also lively and fun-loving with a terrific sense of humor and the endearing ability to laugh at herself that was shared by the members of her family.
Sometime in her 50s, Hazel was diagnosed with glaucoma. I don't know the details of her diagnosis, but I know that she was gradually losing her sight. My grandmother took her to classes to learn Braille and arranged for regular deliveries of Braille books from the state office of services for the blind, but I watched as Hazel's world grew smaller and smaller. By the time I was a teenager, she never left the house except in the company of a family member or a caregiver and then it was rarely to do more than go to the doctor. The summer I was 19, my grandmother hired me to paint several interior rooms in Hazel's house. In the weeks I spent in and out every day, I could see that Hazel was becoming increasingly isolated and unhappy. When I tried to talk with her, she seemed uninterested in having conversations. Hazel died a few years later. I've come to see Hazel's life as the tragic story of the ways that loved ones (in this case, her parents) stunt the lives of disabled people in the name of protecting them. By refusing to allow Hazel to live as normal a life as possible with marriage and children, they denied her the right to the fullest life possible.
Because of Hazel, I've always been interested in the stories of people who have navigated deafness, and that's one thing that drew me to this book. The other is that I know the author. Robin Wallace was my colleague at Converse College for a few years before he moved on to Baylor University. He was a brilliant Beethoven scholar, a superb teacher, and a gentle man. I met his wife Barbara a few times, and I knew that she suffered from severe hearing loss. Robin and I have stayed in touch via Facebook, and I had followed the story of Barbara's sudden deafness and her untimely death. But I didn't know the half of their struggle.
This is a lovely and haunting book. In it, Robin tells a braided tale of Beethoven's deafness and how the composer adapted his technique and his style in order to continue composing great music in the wake of his disability and also of Barbara's hearing loss and the remarkable ways that she adapted. He offers insights into the complex ways that the ears and the brain interact to produce the way of connecting with the world that we call hearing.
At this point, I should also say that I am not a musician in spite of spending a good 15 years singing in choirs in my adolescence and early adulthood. I can follow the basics of a musical score, but my understanding of musicology is almost nil, so I wasn't sure I'd be able to follow this book.
I needn't have worried. Wallace explains complex concepts of musical theory and composition in ways that are accessible to a non-musician reader.
But most of all, he presents two remarkable human beings--one from the eighteenth/nineteenth century and one from today--who manage to find wholeness in the face of tragic personal loss. And it gave me a deeper understanding and appreciation for my Aunt Hazel who also struggled to achieve wholeness within the constraints imposed on her.
November 18, 2018
Hearing Beethoven is one of the most humanizing takes on the composer I've encountered. Robin Wallace challenges the traditional narrative of Beethoven as overcoming his disability by reframing in terms of his personal experiences with his late wife Barbara's hearing loss. The story becomes one of adaptation and exploration, as both Beethoven and Barbara seek help from assistive devices, experiencing hope in new technology, disappointment in the ways devices fall short, and mourning the loss of capabilities.
Wallace interprets several contemporaneous documents in terms of updated scientific research into the neurology of hearing loss, also challenging uninformed stereotypes of deafness. For instance, as Beethoven tested new pianos and ear trumpets and resonators, he was not seeking merely a "louder" sound in order to hear it—in fact, loud noises caused him pain, which is common in people whose deafness presents similarly. Instead, he was seeking clarity of tone and responsiveness to touch. The kinesthetic sense of playing remained with Beethoven even after the sound faded. Wallace also reveals how Beethoven's sketches indicate how he came to incorporate his visual sense into his compositions, ways in which the ink on the page reflect qualities of sound, making music something more than auditory for the composer. I've written more on this section of the book on my blog, Not Another Music History Cliché.
Wallace has completely changed my understanding of the famed Heiligenstadt Testament, typically taught as Beethoven's frustration over his diminished ability to compose. As Wallace points out, he was still composing—in fact, Beethoven knew he could and would continue writing. However, he was mourning the social contact he'd had; conversation books and the positioning of listening devices acted as a barrier to natural conversation, and he felt disconnected. Furthermore, he was afraid that his deafness would be used against him by his critics, undermining his hard-fought reputation. This interpretation changes the way I perceive his notoriously crusty personality; he wasn't a misanthrope so much as someone whose circumstances prevented social connections on the level he needed.
Parts of this book include musical passages with music theory analysis inaccessible to all but those who have studied music at a collegiate level, but the personal stories of Barbara and the interpretation of Beethoven's life are readable to anyone with a passing knowledge of Beethoven and classical music. Above all, this book is loving—one can read Wallace's respect for the Deaf community while explaining why his wife never identified with them, and his persistence in working with his wife to help her connect through her new, ever-changing life.
Wallace interprets several contemporaneous documents in terms of updated scientific research into the neurology of hearing loss, also challenging uninformed stereotypes of deafness. For instance, as Beethoven tested new pianos and ear trumpets and resonators, he was not seeking merely a "louder" sound in order to hear it—in fact, loud noises caused him pain, which is common in people whose deafness presents similarly. Instead, he was seeking clarity of tone and responsiveness to touch. The kinesthetic sense of playing remained with Beethoven even after the sound faded. Wallace also reveals how Beethoven's sketches indicate how he came to incorporate his visual sense into his compositions, ways in which the ink on the page reflect qualities of sound, making music something more than auditory for the composer. I've written more on this section of the book on my blog, Not Another Music History Cliché.
Wallace has completely changed my understanding of the famed Heiligenstadt Testament, typically taught as Beethoven's frustration over his diminished ability to compose. As Wallace points out, he was still composing—in fact, Beethoven knew he could and would continue writing. However, he was mourning the social contact he'd had; conversation books and the positioning of listening devices acted as a barrier to natural conversation, and he felt disconnected. Furthermore, he was afraid that his deafness would be used against him by his critics, undermining his hard-fought reputation. This interpretation changes the way I perceive his notoriously crusty personality; he wasn't a misanthrope so much as someone whose circumstances prevented social connections on the level he needed.
Parts of this book include musical passages with music theory analysis inaccessible to all but those who have studied music at a collegiate level, but the personal stories of Barbara and the interpretation of Beethoven's life are readable to anyone with a passing knowledge of Beethoven and classical music. Above all, this book is loving—one can read Wallace's respect for the Deaf community while explaining why his wife never identified with them, and his persistence in working with his wife to help her connect through her new, ever-changing life.
January 26, 2021
Amikor e sorokat írom, éppen Beethoven méltán híres 5. szimfóniáját hallgatom, és nem állítom, hogy egyszerű. Mármint írni. Mert Beethoven zenéi képesek teljesen magukkal ragadni, és nehéz másra figyelni közben, mint a talán legismertebb szólamokra a művészetéből.
Ludwig van Beethoven 1770-ben született Bonnban. Apai nagyapja udvari karnagy és basszista volt, apja pedig a bonni válszófejedelem udvarában énekelt, mint tenorista. Anyja a választófejedelmi szakács lánya volt. Hét gyermekük születt, közülük négyen nem érték meg a felnőttkort. Másodszülöttük volt Ludwig, akinek első zenetanára az addigra alkoholista apja volt, aki gyakran verte is a gyerekeit, és megpróbált Ludwigból - Mozartékhoz hasonlóan - csodagyereket nevelni. A zenei tehetségét hamar felismerték, 10 éves kora körül már ő számított a családja eltartójának, hála a választófejedelem támogatásának. 11 évesen már szerte Németalföldön zenélt, első múvei pedig 1-2 évvel később jelentek meg. 1787-ben, 17 évesen Bécsbe utazott, hogy a nagy Mozarttól tanuljon, ám valószínűleg nem is találkozhatott vele, mert édesanyja váratlan halála miatt haza kellett utaznia, hogy fiatalabb testvérei nevelését felügyelje, Mozart pedig négy évvel később elhunyt.
25 éves korában már tapasztalta a hallásvesztés jeleit, végül 1819-re teljesen elveszítette hallását. Sokat betegeskedett, ismeretlen eredetű hasfájások és egyéb panaszok kínozták. A legsötétebb művei a századforduló táján születtek, amikor már biztos volt benne, hogy a siketsége visszafordíthatatlan, és egyre romlik csak. Leghatásosabb - és legsötétebb - művei ezekben az években keletkeztek, és rengeteg mindent megpróbált, hogy valahogyan erősítse a hallását, és más módokat keresett a zenéhez.
A zene a látásból és az érintésből is táplálkozik; az egész testből kél, meg mozduló és rezdülő hangszerekből. Látható jelekre válaszol, és olyan gesztusokat is tartalmaz, amelyek a szemnek és a fülnek egyaránt érthetőek. Beethoven tudta mindezt, s ahogyan hallása gyengült, úgy került egyre közelebb mestersége fizikai és vizuális dimenzióihoz.
Robin Wallace ebben a kötetben elsősorban azt az embert mutatja be nekünk, akinek gyakorlatilag a munkaeszközét is jelentette a füle, a hallása, és aki szembesült vele, hogy elveszíti. Azt az embert, aki egyre inkább elzárva érezte magát a társadalomtól, az emberektől, bezárva a saját elméjébe - egyszerűen azért, mert nem hallotta őket. Sokkal fontosabb a hallás, mint gondolnánk. A szerzőnek közeli személyes tapasztalata van: a felesége ugyanis egy napon teljesen megsiketült. Barbaránál agytumort diagnosztizáltak, ami idővel a teljes hallásvesztéshez vezetett. Nagyon érzékletesen mutatja be a saját életüket, és von párhuzamot a hasonló bajjal küszködő Beethovennel, bemutatva ezáltal, hogy a nagy zeneszerző reakciója a siketségére nagyon is emberi volt. A kor összes lehetőségét kipróbálta, különféle eszközöket szereltetett a hangszereire, hogy a zene által kelt rezgéseket jobban érezze, és mindent megtett, hogy a kárt kisebbítse, új módokat keresett a "hallásra".
Magával ragadó, érzelmes kötet lett a Beethovent hallani, ami egyrészt emléket állít Robin Wallace szeretett feleségének, aki 2011 karácsonyán hunyt el, és számos szervével mentették meg mások életét vagy használták fel arra, hogy lássanak. Másrészt szép, és egyedi emléket állít a nagy zeneszerzőnek, Ludwig van Beethovennek is. Magam részéről a klasszikus zeneszerzők közül ő a legnagyobb kedvencem talán (Vivaldi vetekszik vele). Valószínűleg nagon rosszul viselném, ha elveszíteném a hallásomat. Volt egy játék valamikor pár héttel ezelőtt, hogy ha a felsoroltak közül csak hármat választhatok, ami velem lesz 2021-ben, mi lesz az. A kávét, a közösségi oldalakat, a filmeket, nagyon sok mindent megelőzőtt a zene nálam. Naponta 3-6 órát is szoktam zenét hallgatni - vegyesen, klasszikusok és abszolút maiak illetve régi kedvencek -, persze más tevékenységek mellett, takarítás, pakolás, főzés, sőt, olvasás mellett is nagyon szeretem. (És egyébként rendkívül érdekesnek és élvezetesnek is tartom a zene és a zenék bemutatását most, a járványügyi korlátozások alatt. Nem nálunk, mert nálunk. kb. megszűnt, de Amerikában nagyon jó - minőségibb élő előadásokat hozó - megoldások születtek. Sokkal jobb nézni egy saját helyen, közönség nélkül, esetleg díszlettel felvett élő dalbemutatást, mint egy-egy tévéstúdió szegényes, kicsi színpadán, a hangoskodó közönséggel övezve. Maguk a zenészek is sokkal nyugodtabbak, sokkal inkább tudják hozni magukhoz képest is a 100%-ot, mint a rengeteg zavaró körülmény közepette.) Hatalmas szelet esne ki az életemből, ha elveszíteném a hallás képességét - arról nem is beszélve, hogy akár az egyensúlyérzékemet és minden mást is érintheti.
Nem véletlen, hogy Beethovent és Barbarát is súlyos depresszió kínozta, a saját elméjükbe voltak zárva nap mint nap, mert minden más kényszermegoldás nem ugyanaz. Segít, de nem ugyanaz, mint beszélgetni a vacsoraasztalnál, mint hallani a körülötted lévő zajokat, az életet. A könyv és Robin Wallace segítségével egy kedvelt zeneszerzőm új oldalát ismerhettem meg - és sokkal inkább értékelek minden egyes hangot, amelyet most, e sorok írása közben is hallok.
Ludwig van Beethoven 1770-ben született Bonnban. Apai nagyapja udvari karnagy és basszista volt, apja pedig a bonni válszófejedelem udvarában énekelt, mint tenorista. Anyja a választófejedelmi szakács lánya volt. Hét gyermekük születt, közülük négyen nem érték meg a felnőttkort. Másodszülöttük volt Ludwig, akinek első zenetanára az addigra alkoholista apja volt, aki gyakran verte is a gyerekeit, és megpróbált Ludwigból - Mozartékhoz hasonlóan - csodagyereket nevelni. A zenei tehetségét hamar felismerték, 10 éves kora körül már ő számított a családja eltartójának, hála a választófejedelem támogatásának. 11 évesen már szerte Németalföldön zenélt, első múvei pedig 1-2 évvel később jelentek meg. 1787-ben, 17 évesen Bécsbe utazott, hogy a nagy Mozarttól tanuljon, ám valószínűleg nem is találkozhatott vele, mert édesanyja váratlan halála miatt haza kellett utaznia, hogy fiatalabb testvérei nevelését felügyelje, Mozart pedig négy évvel később elhunyt.
25 éves korában már tapasztalta a hallásvesztés jeleit, végül 1819-re teljesen elveszítette hallását. Sokat betegeskedett, ismeretlen eredetű hasfájások és egyéb panaszok kínozták. A legsötétebb művei a századforduló táján születtek, amikor már biztos volt benne, hogy a siketsége visszafordíthatatlan, és egyre romlik csak. Leghatásosabb - és legsötétebb - művei ezekben az években keletkeztek, és rengeteg mindent megpróbált, hogy valahogyan erősítse a hallását, és más módokat keresett a zenéhez.
A zene a látásból és az érintésből is táplálkozik; az egész testből kél, meg mozduló és rezdülő hangszerekből. Látható jelekre válaszol, és olyan gesztusokat is tartalmaz, amelyek a szemnek és a fülnek egyaránt érthetőek. Beethoven tudta mindezt, s ahogyan hallása gyengült, úgy került egyre közelebb mestersége fizikai és vizuális dimenzióihoz.
Robin Wallace ebben a kötetben elsősorban azt az embert mutatja be nekünk, akinek gyakorlatilag a munkaeszközét is jelentette a füle, a hallása, és aki szembesült vele, hogy elveszíti. Azt az embert, aki egyre inkább elzárva érezte magát a társadalomtól, az emberektől, bezárva a saját elméjébe - egyszerűen azért, mert nem hallotta őket. Sokkal fontosabb a hallás, mint gondolnánk. A szerzőnek közeli személyes tapasztalata van: a felesége ugyanis egy napon teljesen megsiketült. Barbaránál agytumort diagnosztizáltak, ami idővel a teljes hallásvesztéshez vezetett. Nagyon érzékletesen mutatja be a saját életüket, és von párhuzamot a hasonló bajjal küszködő Beethovennel, bemutatva ezáltal, hogy a nagy zeneszerző reakciója a siketségére nagyon is emberi volt. A kor összes lehetőségét kipróbálta, különféle eszközöket szereltetett a hangszereire, hogy a zene által kelt rezgéseket jobban érezze, és mindent megtett, hogy a kárt kisebbítse, új módokat keresett a "hallásra".
Magával ragadó, érzelmes kötet lett a Beethovent hallani, ami egyrészt emléket állít Robin Wallace szeretett feleségének, aki 2011 karácsonyán hunyt el, és számos szervével mentették meg mások életét vagy használták fel arra, hogy lássanak. Másrészt szép, és egyedi emléket állít a nagy zeneszerzőnek, Ludwig van Beethovennek is. Magam részéről a klasszikus zeneszerzők közül ő a legnagyobb kedvencem talán (Vivaldi vetekszik vele). Valószínűleg nagon rosszul viselném, ha elveszíteném a hallásomat. Volt egy játék valamikor pár héttel ezelőtt, hogy ha a felsoroltak közül csak hármat választhatok, ami velem lesz 2021-ben, mi lesz az. A kávét, a közösségi oldalakat, a filmeket, nagyon sok mindent megelőzőtt a zene nálam. Naponta 3-6 órát is szoktam zenét hallgatni - vegyesen, klasszikusok és abszolút maiak illetve régi kedvencek -, persze más tevékenységek mellett, takarítás, pakolás, főzés, sőt, olvasás mellett is nagyon szeretem. (És egyébként rendkívül érdekesnek és élvezetesnek is tartom a zene és a zenék bemutatását most, a járványügyi korlátozások alatt. Nem nálunk, mert nálunk. kb. megszűnt, de Amerikában nagyon jó - minőségibb élő előadásokat hozó - megoldások születtek. Sokkal jobb nézni egy saját helyen, közönség nélkül, esetleg díszlettel felvett élő dalbemutatást, mint egy-egy tévéstúdió szegényes, kicsi színpadán, a hangoskodó közönséggel övezve. Maguk a zenészek is sokkal nyugodtabbak, sokkal inkább tudják hozni magukhoz képest is a 100%-ot, mint a rengeteg zavaró körülmény közepette.) Hatalmas szelet esne ki az életemből, ha elveszíteném a hallás képességét - arról nem is beszélve, hogy akár az egyensúlyérzékemet és minden mást is érintheti.
Nem véletlen, hogy Beethovent és Barbarát is súlyos depresszió kínozta, a saját elméjükbe voltak zárva nap mint nap, mert minden más kényszermegoldás nem ugyanaz. Segít, de nem ugyanaz, mint beszélgetni a vacsoraasztalnál, mint hallani a körülötted lévő zajokat, az életet. A könyv és Robin Wallace segítségével egy kedvelt zeneszerzőm új oldalát ismerhettem meg - és sokkal inkább értékelek minden egyes hangot, amelyet most, e sorok írása közben is hallok.
October 14, 2025
En lisant Hearing Beethoven de Robin Wallace, j’ai compris à quel point les musiciens sont sensibles à leur audition et combien la perte de l’ouïe peut faire peur.
En vieillissant, la diminution naturelle de nos capacités nous apporte déjà de la tristesse et de la confusion. Alors, perdre soudainement l’audition comme Beethoven, c’est presque impensable.
Mais les difficultés de la vie ne sont pas un choix : ce qui compte, c’est la façon dont nous les vivons. Robin Wallace étudie la musique de Beethoven tout en accompagnant sa femme, Barbara, qui perd progressivement l’audition. À travers elle, il comprend mieux les efforts, la douleur et l’adaptation que Beethoven a dû traverser pour continuer à créer.
Ce livre ne parle pas seulement d’un grand génie du passé, mais aussi d’une réalité humaine proche de nous. Il n’y a pas de réponse unique dans la vie, mais la différence entre renoncer et suivre sa vocation jusqu’au bout est immense.
Ce livre nous rappelle la noblesse du courage humain et la force de l’esprit. Notre cerveau a une incroyable capacité à s’adapter et à créer. Alors, gardons confiance : la foi et la persévérance sont notre vraie force.
En vieillissant, la diminution naturelle de nos capacités nous apporte déjà de la tristesse et de la confusion. Alors, perdre soudainement l’audition comme Beethoven, c’est presque impensable.
Mais les difficultés de la vie ne sont pas un choix : ce qui compte, c’est la façon dont nous les vivons. Robin Wallace étudie la musique de Beethoven tout en accompagnant sa femme, Barbara, qui perd progressivement l’audition. À travers elle, il comprend mieux les efforts, la douleur et l’adaptation que Beethoven a dû traverser pour continuer à créer.
Ce livre ne parle pas seulement d’un grand génie du passé, mais aussi d’une réalité humaine proche de nous. Il n’y a pas de réponse unique dans la vie, mais la différence entre renoncer et suivre sa vocation jusqu’au bout est immense.
Ce livre nous rappelle la noblesse du courage humain et la force de l’esprit. Notre cerveau a une incroyable capacité à s’adapter et à créer. Alors, gardons confiance : la foi et la persévérance sont notre vraie force.
October 17, 2021
Elég távol áll tőlem a zene, a komolyzene még inkább, és reméltem, hogy ezzel az érdekes témájú könyvvel kicsit közelebb kerülök hozzá. Ez be is jött, nagyon érdekes volt olvasni, hogy mennyire összetettek, kidolgozottak ezek a művek. Az író személyes szála viszont egyáltaán nem érintett meg, a beethovenes rész sokkal érdekesebb volt. Laikusként egyébként kissé talán túl szakmai ahhoz, hogy élvezetes legyen (zeneileg mindenképpen, és néhol a siketséggel kapcsolatban is). Az egész nem igazán volt olvasmányos, nem kapott el az író stílusa.
January 30, 2019
I bought this book because I am dealing with my own deteriorating hearing loss and was looking for new ways to think about it and learn how to live with it. Wallace's book has been a great help. Beethoven's story winds in and through the story of his wife's hearing loss and sudden deafness in a way that is poignant, insightful, and inspiring--even for someone like me who is not well-versed in classical music. Well worth the read.
June 12, 2020
This is not a biography. This is a rich, compassionate study of sound and our relationship to it through the ears and eyes of two figures very close to the author; his wife, Barbara, who faced sudden and daunting challenges with tinnitus and deafness throughout most of their marriage, and his academic forte of curiosity, Beethoven, who experienced all the highs and lows of hearing loss that one might imagine for a musician who normally depends on sound for his/her art. I picked this book up expecting to get a chronological account of a life, but instead, I was immediately drawn into the struggles Robin shared of his wife, fearlessly allowing a number of anecdotes to linger on for pages in a book that isn’t, by name, about her, anecdotes that allow the reader to pause and reflect on the once great musician not as a titan of his time, but as a man, flawed and broken as any, and even more so. Once the author shifts into the nuances of sketch composition, it becomes enormously clear that this is more than a cathartic attempt to explain what happened to his wife, but also an opportunity to really explore the depths of musical expression, particularly through sight. Even having grown up in a family where Beethoven, and Mozart, and Bach would have been present and well known, a good deal of these nuances Robin explains still went over my head, but I appreciated the labor he took to present them in the fashion he did.
January 24, 2019
The author takes on a number of claims by other authors that attempt to explain the connection between Beethoven’s life, personality, and music on the one hand and his hearing loss that ultimately led to deafness on the other. Wallace offers his own explanations based on deep research, and his arguments seem to have been accepted by experts in a better position to evaluate than I am.
Whether Beethoven was, overall, likable or not is maybe a matter of taste, but certainly this book helps one to appreciate all that Beethoven did to compensate for his hearing loss, using technologies I didn’t know about until reading the book. It was fascinating to be taken through some of Beethoven’s compositions where certain effects—like sudden large shifts in register—arguably are due to his growing deafness.
Woven into the narrative are the author’s personal experiences, mostly involving his wife, who suddenly and irreversibly went totally deaf. I felt like a bit of a cad for skipping these sections, which may make up 10% to 20% of the book, but they just didn’t seem to serve the purpose of understanding Beethoven.
Whether Beethoven was, overall, likable or not is maybe a matter of taste, but certainly this book helps one to appreciate all that Beethoven did to compensate for his hearing loss, using technologies I didn’t know about until reading the book. It was fascinating to be taken through some of Beethoven’s compositions where certain effects—like sudden large shifts in register—arguably are due to his growing deafness.
Woven into the narrative are the author’s personal experiences, mostly involving his wife, who suddenly and irreversibly went totally deaf. I felt like a bit of a cad for skipping these sections, which may make up 10% to 20% of the book, but they just didn’t seem to serve the purpose of understanding Beethoven.
February 2, 2019
The author's approach to understanding Beethoven's deafness through his own wife's experience was eye-opening. I like that he recognized that both did not overcome their deafness, but learned to live with it and, rather than let it define them, worked to do what they loved within the range of their new normal, even when that meant battling depression along the way. I gained some new insights into how isolating deafness can be and what I can do to help include those who are deaf around me better.
My one big reason for not giving this a higher rating was that though much of the book read easily, there were sections that became very technical, even for someone with musical training. This was written by a professor of music with a depth of knowledge about Beethoven and his work. I believe he has done his research, but I got bogged down in some of the more academic chapters. That said, I would love to have had a soundtrack to accompany my reading. :)
My one big reason for not giving this a higher rating was that though much of the book read easily, there were sections that became very technical, even for someone with musical training. This was written by a professor of music with a depth of knowledge about Beethoven and his work. I believe he has done his research, but I got bogged down in some of the more academic chapters. That said, I would love to have had a soundtrack to accompany my reading. :)
May 11, 2021
This book is only for musicians who can read music and have a serious interest in a reexamination of myths and stories surrounding his life. The story of the author's wife, and her hearing loss, is actually a wonderful story for the layperson, but comprises maybe 15% of the content.
I found myself skimming through detailed examination of Beethoven's scratch pads and the positions of the notes within the measure, and looking for more on his wife's experience with sudden hearing loss, being a musician myself that had it happen to me.
I found myself skimming through detailed examination of Beethoven's scratch pads and the positions of the notes within the measure, and looking for more on his wife's experience with sudden hearing loss, being a musician myself that had it happen to me.
July 17, 2019
It takes a unique ability to bring such a touching and poignant new perspective to a much-studied but often misunderstood subject. This is a truly transformational book, about life and loss and the tremendous power of the human spirit.
August 7, 2021
Ultimately the narrative got bogged down by musical theory at the end and the story of the author’s wife’s SSHL got loss. Interesting premise to bring the two strands together though. I didn’t learn anything new about my own SSHL.
October 1, 2021
This book defies easy classification but if you don't mind a few theory-rich descriptions of Beethoven's middle- and late-period music there are a lot of insights about hearing, deafness, and music.
May 25, 2019
Provides insight into Beethoven's compositional process, how he coped with hearing loss, his music, and what musicians with hearing loss experience. A blend of personal story (author's wife experienced hearing loss), historical information about Beethoven, and musical analysis is an enjoyable and informative mix. A must-read for musicians with hearing loss.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews