Robert Layton's ‘Sibelius’, a biography of the Finnish composer Jean Sibelius (1865-1957), is a revealing guide to the life and to the works. Above all, he provides illuminating analyses of the music, both tracing the formal means that Sibelius developed at each new phase of his career, and identifying the events and experiences that left an imprint on this extraordinary musical personality.
Long one of the only decent contemporary treatments of the subject in English, this book has been largely superseded, in spite of the revised third edition, itself now out of date, being made in 1992. Layton's characteristic vocabulary is firmly ensconced in a vaguely moralistic Victorian idiom, where "stature," and "character," and the like are the most important critical terms on offer. Still, for a brief, though fairly comprehensive overview of Sibelius's life and works, it remains useful to novices coming to the composer for the first time, or for casual classical music listeners who want to know some more about their favorite composer.
Sibelius! That name, alone, stirs my spirit, my heart, my soul, the intangible massless, spaceless, invisibly flowing manifestation of music within me and its warm flashes of flecks and specks in the darkest recesses of my being...
Too dramatic? Not for me! Not in the places where all arts blend together in a cacophonous elegance that splatters the result of all art within me... But I digress before I begin my review. Apologies...
This was not quite what I had hoped it to be, but it’s certainly worth the read and the slim spot it will permanently claim on my bookshelf. Sibelius was a remarkable man, a fierce nationalist who would compose with complete and deeply explicit yet unnoticed folk music of Finland, with vitriol directed at Russian interference and the unwelcome, unwanted, societal changes they brought. Finlandia, for example, one of the greatest tone poems ever written, was composed toward the goal of glorifying all that was Sibelius’ motherland: his history, his story, his home. Many times pieces were titled with laughable and strange descriptors that did not indicate the true spirit of the piece, Sibelius instead having composed what was inspired almost purely by folk tune and song. Sibelius would not allow the music of Finland to fade away nor be transformed, bastardized or methodically excised by Russian culture.
So, here we have another attempt at encapsulating the man, the marvel, the master. The book is a fine primer with a few bits of lesser known information and, if only because it’s about Sibelius, it is worth the read. I suppose the understanding one must have when opening the book for the first time is that a small entry such as this offering cannot contain Sibelius; he and his music will never be contained, though I am most pleased that people are awaking to this gifted, patriotic, well-rounded, intense and productive composer who succeeded in all musical mediums. Enjoy the read, certainly, but continue to seek out more books about, as he titled another of his magical pieces, “The Bard.”
This book did a great job of helping me to understand and appreciate Sibelius and his music more. Unfortunately, the biography sections are too brief and superficial. Layton goes through the narrative of Sibelius' life in a nearly perfunctory manner, concentrating on his professional activities to the near exclusion of his personal life, personality, or inner life. The childhood death of one of his daughters is even relegated to an aside in a discussion of the genesis of one of Sibelius' smaller works. The reader is thus left with a rather narrow and superficial sense of Sibelius as a person. Luckily, Layton's discussion of Sibelius' music, especially the symphonies, is quite good. He gives just enough technical detail to give the reader a sense of how the music works without being overwhelming. I especially liked the way Layton compares pieces and places them in the context of Sibelius' output. His discussions of the composition and reception of the major works was also enjoyable.