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Every Good Boy Does Fine: A Love Story, in Music Lessons
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • A beautifully written, witty memoir that is also an immersive exploration of classical music—its power, its meanings, and what it can teach us about ourselves—from the MacArthur “Genius” Grant–winning pianist
LONGLISTED FOR THE ANDREW CARNEGIE MEDAL • “Jeremy Denk has written a love letter to the music, and especially to the music teachers, in his life.”—Conrad Tao, pianist and composerONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE The New YorkerIn Every Good Boy Does Fine, renowned pianist Jeremy Denk traces an implausible journey. His life is already a little tough as a precocious, temperamental six-year-old piano prodigy in New Jersey, and then a family meltdown forces a move to New Mexico. There, Denk must please a new taskmaster, an embittered but devoted professor, while navigating junior high school. At sixteen he escapes to college in Ohio, only to encounter a bewildering new cast of music teachers, both kind and cruel. After many humiliations and a few triumphs, he ultimately finds his way as a world-touring pianist, a MacArthur “Genius,” and a frequent performer at Carnegie Hall. Many classical music memoirs focus on famous musicians and professional accomplishments, but this book focuses on the neighborhood teacher, high school orchestra, local conductor. There are few writers capable of so deeply illuminating the trials of artistic practice—hours of daily repetition, mystifying advice, pressure from parents and teachers. But under all this struggle is a love letter to the act of teaching. In lively, endlessly imaginative prose, Denk dives deeply into the pieces and composers that have shaped him—Bach, Mozart, and Brahms, among others—and offers lessons on melody, harmony, and rhythm. How do melodies work? Why is harmony such a mystery to most people? Why are teachers so obsessed with the metronome?In Every Good Boy Does Fine, Denk shares the most meaningful lessons of his life, and tries to repay a debt to his teachers. He also reminds us that we must never stop asking questions about music and its consolation, an armor against disillusionment, pure pleasure, a diversion, a refuge, and a vehicle for empathy.
369 pages, Kindle Edition
First published March 22, 2022
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 380 reviews
July 14, 2022
Audiobook….read by the author ….Jeremy Denk
…..13 hours and 16 minutes
This was a surprising great memoir, (after a slow start of minimal and vague family history), by a gifted classical musician.
I especially enjoyed his time at Oberlin college as a sixteen year old. The book got noticeably better once Denk left home. I did feel a tiny bit sorry for his mom (her ‘mom-days’ were mostly done-a little prematurely)
I didn’t feel sorry for his father at all.
Point is….the book ‘vastly’ improved after those beginning chapters….once Denk left home for college as the genius sixteen year old that he was. He even took a double major. Chemistry — as well as music.
I also found it interesting learning about ‘hand size’ and the relationship with ‘choosing’ the right music - depending if you have small or large hands when at the keyboard.
The title feels misleading—but I didn’t care….I enjoyed the chapters on Harmony, Melody, and Rhythm—Denk’s knowledge- thoughts - and feelings about Beethoven, Schubert, and Brahms…
The one thing that would have made this audiobook better — would have been if Denk played a couple of full pieces …… (there were a few piano excerpts— and they were totally delightful — just not enough)….yet it was still quite a ‘memorable’ — love for music —memoir.
…..13 hours and 16 minutes
This was a surprising great memoir, (after a slow start of minimal and vague family history), by a gifted classical musician.
I especially enjoyed his time at Oberlin college as a sixteen year old. The book got noticeably better once Denk left home. I did feel a tiny bit sorry for his mom (her ‘mom-days’ were mostly done-a little prematurely)
I didn’t feel sorry for his father at all.
Point is….the book ‘vastly’ improved after those beginning chapters….once Denk left home for college as the genius sixteen year old that he was. He even took a double major. Chemistry — as well as music.
I also found it interesting learning about ‘hand size’ and the relationship with ‘choosing’ the right music - depending if you have small or large hands when at the keyboard.
The title feels misleading—but I didn’t care….I enjoyed the chapters on Harmony, Melody, and Rhythm—Denk’s knowledge- thoughts - and feelings about Beethoven, Schubert, and Brahms…
The one thing that would have made this audiobook better — would have been if Denk played a couple of full pieces …… (there were a few piano excerpts— and they were totally delightful — just not enough)….yet it was still quite a ‘memorable’ — love for music —memoir.
March 22, 2022
‘I hope it doesn’t sound silly to say that for me there is a connection between the task of piano playing, trying to find the elusive combination of nuances that bring the phrase alive, and the search for the ‘perfect’ combination of words to express something...I guess the common thread is communication and hopefully that “shiver of delight” when something is expressed in an imaginative, unexpected way.’ - Jeremy Denk, New Yorker Magazine, 4/08/2013
This memoir by pianist Jeremy Denk traces his life from his early years living in New Jersey. By the age of six, the piano was his first love, and he was already considered to be advanced in his skills - for his years. And while there is considerable focus on his love of music, there is so much more to his story.
This began as a short story published in The New Yorker in April of 2013, but there is so much more to his story that is included in this memoir. The internal stress of striving for perfection, and how his life changed when his family moved, necessitating finding new a piano teacher. For those whose dream from a young age hadn’t reached the form of obsession, that may not seem like much, but at the time it must have seemed like being ripped away from his safety net.
At the age of twelve, he talks about visiting a record store in the then ‘new mall’ to choose a new record. A journey that always necessitated holding the albums in ordered to determine which one he truly wanted. He recalls it being one of the happiest acts in his life, enhanced by his parents trusting him in this area of choice. He talks about the joy in bringing home a cassette of Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante performed by the Cleveland Orchestra, based on their legendary status. Listening to the cassette, the music revealing a story. A powerful memory that he still retains.
Now at the age of 51, Denk has written this memoir, sharing his journey, journeys, along the way. Personal relations through the years, both with friends and more. This is a personal journey, and while it includes his achievements it is not about the glamour, it is firmly rooted in the years of work, the personal reflections, the personal toll of seeking perfection. The pressure and the stress it creates. The love of music, of sharing this gift, and his love of teaching others.
A beautifully written memoir, for those who appreciate the power of music to enhance our lives, move us, and lead us to a place that stirs something in us, personally, emotionally will enjoy this aspect, but there is much more to this. His personal growth, for one, the struggles along the way, but also, the personal acceptance for who he is, and was always meant to be, as well. Reading his thoughts on the emotions attached to music, the need for perfection in his own performance, as well as the unmitigated joy he finds in music, and the emotions and thoughts it provokes. How a passage of music can move us to tears for its beauty or the memories it stirs in us.
Published: 22 Feb 2022
Many thanks for the ARC provided by Random House Publishing Group - Random House
March 25, 2022
(FROM MY BLOG) (I'm still only half-way through the book, so this doesn't really qualify as a book review. But I've had immediate thoughts about Denk's writing, arising out of my own very limited musical experience, which I shared on my blog yesterday.)
I took piano lessons for six years as a child. During my final three years, I would practice one and a half hours each day, usually before school. I enjoyed it, but -- like many kids -- once I was 15, I decided that enough was enough. I quit.
Years later, near the end of my legal career, I resumed piano lessons from a teacher in Seattle, dropped out again, and returned to the same teacher several years later. She was an excellent teacher, far more accomplished than my childhood teacher, having studied at the Leningrad Conservatory as a young woman. She seemed pleased to have me as a student.
She asked me to perform at a couple of student recitals -- which I did, feeling somewhat awkward among a flock of child and teenaged performers. I recall performing the second movement to Beethoven's Pathétique Sonata. To a limited degree, I'm a perfectionist, and I wasn't too happy with my playing. But my teacher told me that it had gone very well, and I took her word for it.
I suppose that compared with her sixth graders, I was a delight to teach. If I learned all the notes to a piece, followed all the printed notations in the score, and in addition brought some sense of emotional feeling to the piece, she professed herself very happy. "Good sense of musicality," she would say.
What brings all this to mind is my current reading of Every Good Boy Does Fine, by Jeremy Denk. I hope to review this excellent book once I finish it, but what I've read so far impresses me with how little I knew about any of the classical pieces I played, with whose playing my teacher had professed herself satisfied. Denk is not only an outstanding pianist, but an excellent teacher, and his book -- published this week -- is a memoir of his life (written at age 51), intertwined with discussions of the difficulties he had mastering the pieces he was taught. These discussions are, the reader quickly realizes, a vehicle for teaching the reader an appreciation of musical theory.
For me, it's also been a vehicle for teaching me humility -- although, insofar as my musical training was concerned, attaining humility has been hardly an accomplishment. I learned to play entire pages, listening to the melody where there was a discernable melody, juicing it up with a bit of emotion, and otherwise just playing the notes. Denk will spend a number of paragraphs discussing the profound musical effect of omitting just one note in a flight up a scale. His discussions are a revelation, and what they reveal is that no one ever perfects the playing of a classical piece, because there are always new subtleties to be discovered in a good composition -- subtleties that augment the pianist's understanding of the composer's vision, and that can be incorporated in his performance.
A few minutes ago, I looked over my copy of the score to the second movement of Beethoven's Pathétique, and noted the composer's copious use of "slurs" -- those curving lines above or below the flow of notes. They indicate phrases, notes that should be considered together, like words in a sentence. I always ignored them, because the phrasing seemed obvious without them.
Denk, as a college student, tended to ignore them as well. His teacher demanded otherwise, making him sing nonsense lyrics while playing.
Sometimes, learning from two teachers with opposing views can be valuable. Denk appeciated the opinions of the second teacher, but ended up siding with the more exacting demands of the first.
Denk's entire book -- in the guise of a well-written, humorous, self-deprecating memoir -- is an encouragement to everyone, whether music novices or experts, to avoid complacency, and to realize that no matter how well you think you know a piece of music, there's always something more to discover.
Usually, a lot more.
I took piano lessons for six years as a child. During my final three years, I would practice one and a half hours each day, usually before school. I enjoyed it, but -- like many kids -- once I was 15, I decided that enough was enough. I quit.
Years later, near the end of my legal career, I resumed piano lessons from a teacher in Seattle, dropped out again, and returned to the same teacher several years later. She was an excellent teacher, far more accomplished than my childhood teacher, having studied at the Leningrad Conservatory as a young woman. She seemed pleased to have me as a student.
She asked me to perform at a couple of student recitals -- which I did, feeling somewhat awkward among a flock of child and teenaged performers. I recall performing the second movement to Beethoven's Pathétique Sonata. To a limited degree, I'm a perfectionist, and I wasn't too happy with my playing. But my teacher told me that it had gone very well, and I took her word for it.
I suppose that compared with her sixth graders, I was a delight to teach. If I learned all the notes to a piece, followed all the printed notations in the score, and in addition brought some sense of emotional feeling to the piece, she professed herself very happy. "Good sense of musicality," she would say.
What brings all this to mind is my current reading of Every Good Boy Does Fine, by Jeremy Denk. I hope to review this excellent book once I finish it, but what I've read so far impresses me with how little I knew about any of the classical pieces I played, with whose playing my teacher had professed herself satisfied. Denk is not only an outstanding pianist, but an excellent teacher, and his book -- published this week -- is a memoir of his life (written at age 51), intertwined with discussions of the difficulties he had mastering the pieces he was taught. These discussions are, the reader quickly realizes, a vehicle for teaching the reader an appreciation of musical theory.
For me, it's also been a vehicle for teaching me humility -- although, insofar as my musical training was concerned, attaining humility has been hardly an accomplishment. I learned to play entire pages, listening to the melody where there was a discernable melody, juicing it up with a bit of emotion, and otherwise just playing the notes. Denk will spend a number of paragraphs discussing the profound musical effect of omitting just one note in a flight up a scale. His discussions are a revelation, and what they reveal is that no one ever perfects the playing of a classical piece, because there are always new subtleties to be discovered in a good composition -- subtleties that augment the pianist's understanding of the composer's vision, and that can be incorporated in his performance.
A few minutes ago, I looked over my copy of the score to the second movement of Beethoven's Pathétique, and noted the composer's copious use of "slurs" -- those curving lines above or below the flow of notes. They indicate phrases, notes that should be considered together, like words in a sentence. I always ignored them, because the phrasing seemed obvious without them.
Denk, as a college student, tended to ignore them as well. His teacher demanded otherwise, making him sing nonsense lyrics while playing.
The point of the lyrics was that they would force me to observe the slurs written on the page, taking breaths with the words. Painstakingly, I played , while Bill made me sing along .... We practiced until I could do all the slurs exactly as written, which seemed fussy and prissy ....But Denk appreciated the teaching, once he got the hang of it. But then a later teacher called the slurs simply "sloppy notation" by Beethoven, notation that should be ignored.
Sometimes, learning from two teachers with opposing views can be valuable. Denk appeciated the opinions of the second teacher, but ended up siding with the more exacting demands of the first.
These days, I find the slurs almost more beautiful than the notes. They tell you about the play of the music against the beat, the visible against the invisible. ... Slurs look like an arc, and imply a journey.I don't offer these quotations because I have any feeling, one way or the other, about slurs. But Denk's discussions remind us that highly trained musicians can argue over matters that are far above the notice or understanding of a novice pianist -- even one who has been praised for his "musicality" by his well-meaning (and probably long-suffering) teacher.
Denk's entire book -- in the guise of a well-written, humorous, self-deprecating memoir -- is an encouragement to everyone, whether music novices or experts, to avoid complacency, and to realize that no matter how well you think you know a piece of music, there's always something more to discover.
Usually, a lot more.
June 30, 2022
Charming premise and his beginning is worth noting; however, it quickly became condescending, grandiose, and boring. Imagine you’re on a date and the date always derails from a question to give a long winded backstory about how spectacular they are: that’s this book.
November 27, 2021
What a great book. I always wanted to learn the piano in my youth, but never had the opportunity. A uniquely illuminating memoir of the making of a musician, in which renowned pianist Jeremy Denk explores what he learned from his teachers about classical music: its forms, its power, its meaning - and what it can teach us about ourselves. Everyone should read this book to learn about Jeremy Denk and to learn something about themselves. Highly recommend.
June 20, 2022
Denk is a fine raconteur, but this memoir became less and less interesting as the book went on. It was like sitting at a very long dinner in which the guest speaker regressed from amusing to irritating. There are many witty episodes, but I groaned at the section on why music is like sex and how chords can be climactic! Much of the musicology became egotistical showing off. Piano lessons are arduous and Every Good Boy Does Fine began to resemble practising scales.
September 4, 2025
It’s always fun to read classical musicians on music. A great memoir.
August 27, 2022
What. A. Book!
My last book about classical piano was written in a third person, and unfortunately I couldn't enjoy it as much, because all the detail in it required a lot of knowledge, which I do not have, to appreciate it. But this...
This is a book, an autobiography, written in first person, about someone who grows up to become a concert pianist.
Each chapter talks about different aspect of music, through metaphors and the author's experiences. There are also 3-5 different classical pieces that you could listen to, 5o understand some of the learning pains the author was going through. At the end of the book there is a massive (20+ page) annotated playlist to enrich your classical music experience.
The writing style is very calming, lyrical, metaphorical. In quite a few places I found myself giggling out loud. Jeremy Denk has an amazing way with words. The way reading this book made me feel, I would put it next to Surely You're Joking Mr Feynman and Isaac Asimov autobiographies.
The author is clearly good with piano and at writing, but I enjoyed the book even more, knowing that he was trying programming when young (even though it didn't stick) and was good at sciences. It felt very relatable - I am someone who works as a software engineer, but loves to creative/performance stuff. Speaking of...
This book was a gift to me, because I am learning to play a piano. A process I immensely enjoy right now, but sometimes find the slowness and repetitiveness daunting. What I always assumed was that, once you reach a certain level at the piano, you can be given a score and play it immediately. Something that is beyond my reach. Well, this book taught me two things about this assumption. First, that this is simply not true. The pros go roughly through the same process of learning each piece gradually. They are just faster getting to performance speed. Second, there is an immense breadth of detail that the musical score does not contain and that the pianist brings to the performance. This is what pros spend decades learning to do, and Jeremy Denk explains it beautifully.
I've not heard about Jeremy Denk before this book, but now I'm sold. Really looking forward to seeing him perform, if he ever comes to London again.
Hands down, one of the best books I've read this year.
My last book about classical piano was written in a third person, and unfortunately I couldn't enjoy it as much, because all the detail in it required a lot of knowledge, which I do not have, to appreciate it. But this...
This is a book, an autobiography, written in first person, about someone who grows up to become a concert pianist.
Each chapter talks about different aspect of music, through metaphors and the author's experiences. There are also 3-5 different classical pieces that you could listen to, 5o understand some of the learning pains the author was going through. At the end of the book there is a massive (20+ page) annotated playlist to enrich your classical music experience.
The writing style is very calming, lyrical, metaphorical. In quite a few places I found myself giggling out loud. Jeremy Denk has an amazing way with words. The way reading this book made me feel, I would put it next to Surely You're Joking Mr Feynman and Isaac Asimov autobiographies.
The author is clearly good with piano and at writing, but I enjoyed the book even more, knowing that he was trying programming when young (even though it didn't stick) and was good at sciences. It felt very relatable - I am someone who works as a software engineer, but loves to creative/performance stuff. Speaking of...
This book was a gift to me, because I am learning to play a piano. A process I immensely enjoy right now, but sometimes find the slowness and repetitiveness daunting. What I always assumed was that, once you reach a certain level at the piano, you can be given a score and play it immediately. Something that is beyond my reach. Well, this book taught me two things about this assumption. First, that this is simply not true. The pros go roughly through the same process of learning each piece gradually. They are just faster getting to performance speed. Second, there is an immense breadth of detail that the musical score does not contain and that the pianist brings to the performance. This is what pros spend decades learning to do, and Jeremy Denk explains it beautifully.
I've not heard about Jeremy Denk before this book, but now I'm sold. Really looking forward to seeing him perform, if he ever comes to London again.
Hands down, one of the best books I've read this year.
May 11, 2022
Too, too, too much.
April 2, 2022
Denk's memoir is structured like a classic buildungsroman- we follow him from childhood through his struggles to emerge as a full formed musician through to the end when all the pieces are finally in place for success. It's a satisfying formula and works well here. Interspersed are ideas on music and art and life in general, all enlightening and entertaining in their own right. As someone who never really has managed to get very far in my own musical efforts and consequently knows very little of things like music theory, I've always admired Denk's ability to describe musical concepts and ideas in ways I can process. The caveat is that in the past I've seen him do this with a piano in front of him. In written form I'm reliant on my own ability to interpret visual representations and find recordings of pieces to isolate the passages that he's talking about, which I did to the best of my ability (and I really appreciate the listening suggestions in the text and the appendix with notes on the pieces- fantastic!), but I wish I could actually listen to him play the passages and talk about them. Maybe in the audiobook. My other quibble is that he comes off a bit blind to what I think of as some of the major issues in classical music education- the power dynamic between students and teachers that is often exploited by bad actors (abuse especially suffered by women and girls), and the degree to which doors are shut to so many based on race and class. While he does touch on these issues- he clearly came from a background that was economically more challenging than most of his peers (but not so much his family could not afford a piano or lessons). He speaks of bits of bad behavior by teacher/professors, but mostly in a tone that comes off in that "that's how things were in those days" or "if you want to be great you have to suffer this" or even a bit of "isn't it crazy what we let people do *giggle*". I have no doubt that this is how he experienced his journey and there's no reason not to go on the ride with him- this is *his* story, after all. It's impossible to resist putting the music on while you read and you'll find yourself stopping over and over again to really listen to pieces old and new with exciting new angles, approaches and ideas about hearing them, which is reason enough to pick up the book.
October 25, 2022
So good to me i read twice. About denk growing up and up to his post graduate time of just getting started teaching at Bloomington and gigging for a living playing the piano. Very good explanations of music, and interesting telling of his feelings and bio.
Has super good musical/bibliographical end notes. And quite a few illustrations of sheet music and compositions
Has super good musical/bibliographical end notes. And quite a few illustrations of sheet music and compositions
March 31, 2022
This is a fascinating premise for a book: a professional pianist traces his career and development through his many teachers and their conflicting pedagogies. Each chapter is prefaces with works of music that parallel his journey and his frustrations. I am unfamiliar with his work, but his story is a compelling one. He is also adept as a writer in addition to his skills as a pianist. For any artist struggling with decisions about whether to continue, this is a must read.
May 29, 2022
I saw his interview on Sunday Morning and thought this would be a good read. I couldn't push past page 87. One of the most condescending, self absorbed authors that is not interesting. The "wittiness" became old very quickly. Granted I don't know all of the pieces he describes in every chapter, but the lack of willingness to practice and thinking he is better than his instructors. I felt a very negative feeling as I read. Just not for me. Too bad I began underlining some passages, otherwise I would return it. It's stuck on my shelf until the next book drive.
July 6, 2022
4.5 stars! This book MUST be read as an audiobook. The way piano excerpts are spliced into the audiobook really added to my experience reading.
Definitely recommend for musicians, though at times this made me wish I paid more attention to music theory when I had the opportunity...
Definitely recommend for musicians, though at times this made me wish I paid more attention to music theory when I had the opportunity...
May 12, 2022
What an interesting book this is: part Master’s course in music appreciation; part tribute to those who taught Denk how to perform the music; part memoir of a life with music at its core. Can you think of any other memoir that comes with a playlist? In fact, using the playlist is a requirement if one wants to make any sense of the diagrams that pepper the narrative. Even so, the opportunities Denk afforded me to expand my own knowledge of musical repertoire were quite satisfying.
Denk has given us a deeply satisfying coming-of-age story. As a coming out narrative, however, it is more perplexing. He announced to us early on that he was gay, but his seemed to be a deeply closeted life. Ah, well, he wouldn’t be the first gay man to redirect his sexual appetites into his career and to postpone coming out until middle age. At least he never married a woman! If Denk never had the chance to come out to his female sexual partners, at least they know NOW why things turned out the way they did. Every Good Boy Does Fine, and, Jeremy, your readers and fans are so happy that all turned out Fine in your life.
There are a several ways I measure the impact of this book. First, do I continue to think about the book’s content after I’ve turned the final page? Second, do I make any decisions or resolutions based on the content of the book? Finally, are there questions I want answered? “Yes” to all three questions. This memoir got up in my head and has stayed there.
Denk has given us a deeply satisfying coming-of-age story. As a coming out narrative, however, it is more perplexing. He announced to us early on that he was gay, but his seemed to be a deeply closeted life. Ah, well, he wouldn’t be the first gay man to redirect his sexual appetites into his career and to postpone coming out until middle age. At least he never married a woman! If Denk never had the chance to come out to his female sexual partners, at least they know NOW why things turned out the way they did. Every Good Boy Does Fine, and, Jeremy, your readers and fans are so happy that all turned out Fine in your life.
There are a several ways I measure the impact of this book. First, do I continue to think about the book’s content after I’ve turned the final page? Second, do I make any decisions or resolutions based on the content of the book? Finally, are there questions I want answered? “Yes” to all three questions. This memoir got up in my head and has stayed there.
May 9, 2022
I was delighted to find this book in the bookshop at Detroit Metro Airport. I have heard J Denk’s name through the years and respect the career he has carved out for himself. As an Oberlin piano graduate (1984), I appreciated the time devoted to the Oberlin years. In many ways his experience lined up with my own (he was a more highly regarded pianist). The book, however, was a reminder of the negativity and enormous egos ever present in the classical music world. I love music and continue to reap the benefits of how it has enriched my life, but there is much in the field that is shameful (from my perspective). Denk relayed numerous examples where the behavior of the teacher borders on cruelty. I recall witnessing those kinds of behaviors myself and it turns my stomach. I also think he could have left out the ‘bad-breath’..... a non-essential detail. Nonetheless......I am grateful that he wrote the book and hopeful that readers other than musicians read it because it does give insight to the tremendous fortitude required to play an instrument at a high level.
April 29, 2022
This book is probably more 3.5 than 4, but his writing about music is divine, and this memoir heartbreakingly honest.
August 6, 2023
4.5 so beautiful and intricate!! Convinced the sole reason I took AP music theory was to understand the musicology chapters
October 16, 2024
“If you forced me to sum it up, I’d tell you that is the point of this book: a love for the steps, the joys of growing and outgrowing and being outgrown. And— just as in the Mozart— how time seems to stop, or even go in reverse, when you are learning.”
When I saw the clever title for this book, I was intrigued to read it.
The cleverness continues within the book in its formatting. The book begins with a prelude and ends with a coda. Paragraph breaks are marked with a ‘rest’ symbol. And the book is divided into three parts: Harmony, Melody, and Rhythm. Each chapter has a playlist of songs that accompany it.
I really liked those little details.
It was evident reading this book how much Denk really does love music. Or at least classical music.
I thought I was a person who loved and appreciated music, but the detail in which Denk describes each song and movement, it’s clear that he is on a different musical wavelength than me.
Although, because I couldn’t relate to such intricate detailed descriptions of classical music, I ended up skimming a good chunk of the last half of the book. I’m sure someone who is familiar with the pieces he is talking about or has the time to listen to all of them while reading (I tried, but some of them were like 30+ minutes long) would be able to understand what he’s talking about, but frankly it just got a little boring to me.
I was hoping for more of a memoir accented by musical analogies, illustrations, and comparisons. But to me it felt more like an annotated playlist sprinkled with some life story staccatos. He does have an annotated playlist as an appendix but I didn’t read it because that felt like double dipping.
Some of the life story segments that were in there were interesting, especially at the beginning as he takes us through the routines of a budding pianist.
I took piano lessons from 2nd grade until high school and there was a part of me that wishes I had taken it for longer and that I had made more of an effort to learn the music theory and chords and how to count better. But then I read about the grueling practice routine and the types of teachers he had and I think, what I was doing or would have ended up doing was so far below that I’m not sure what level I could have even achieved.
He likens the tedious practice to achieve the precision of each technique like this:
“Imagine that you are scrubbing the grout in your bathroom and you are told that removing every last particle of mildew will somehow enable you to deliver the Gettsyburg Address.”
One might ask— is it worth it to go through all that to become a classically performing pianist? Denk would say yes. This was, as the book flap says: “a love letter to the act of teaching.” For Denk it’s more than just performing and playing, it’s about teaching others to understand the music. While he didn’t always like it going through it, when he came out the other side he recognized different things his teachers were doing and how it helped him.
While reading this book, I did reflect on why I don’t have more of an appreciation of classical music. Especially if I play multiple instruments and enjoy music regularly.
He says,
“In general, popular culture demonizes classic music in a way that popular culture is not quite willing to take responsibility for, because most people feel this music is too full of itself, and deserves bullying.”
I think I agree that pop culture, even if we wouldn’t go so far as to say ‘demonizes’ it, does demean it just by the very absence of it anywhere. We only see it displayed at elitist functions for uppity rich people or crazy sociopaths like Silence of the Lambs. This is probably an exaggeration, but still.
There is no doubt that music moves people. Music moves me. All the time. Why am I not moved by classical music? Would I be if I listened to it more? Or do I prefer songs with lyrics? Maybe, but there are many movie scores that I really like— by composers Hans Zimmer or John Williams, or Howard Shore— that don’t contain words. But then I think it might partly be because I have a visual attached to them.
I don’t think classical music needs bullying; we could probably benefit by more of it. But I do think perhaps a ‘calm down’ is in order when it comes to the time commitment. Symphonies average 45-60 minutes. Orchestra concerts are 90 min to 2 hours. And I’m probably showing my lack of knowledge here because I honestly don’t know how that’s all arranged. A symphony is made up of movements but it’s all one “song” right? Orchestra concerts might be made up of multiple songs? I don’t know. I’m not trying to teach you here, I’m just recognizing that people are less likely to ‘get into’ classical music if it’s going to require intense hours of listening and analysis. We’re used to getting short songs on the radio every 3 minutes. Good, bad, or indifferent, it’s reality.
I have no doubt that I did not appreciate his book the way he was hoping, especially since I skimmed so much of it, but I did find these quotes interesting when he talked about harmony, melody, and rhythm.
“Harmonies wander; melodies develop or disintegrate; but only rhythms can truly be free.”
“Harmonies can turn from major to minor in an instant… they act more like water than stone. Melodies are stabler but can be narcissistic, whistling themselves over and over again. But rhythms offer something to hold on to and lean against, a refuge against both change and monotony… a structure that at once gives shelter and permits freedom. And what else is music but a space for us to live in, for awhile.”
I can’t decide if this is profound or dramatic, but there was something about it that drew me in. Maybe it’s because I play bass guitar and rhythm is my job more than harmony or melody.
It feels like the kind of quote that would be interesting to discuss with a variety of musicians. Is Denk saying that rhythm is both stable and also free but harmony and melody is either one or the other? Can rhythm really protect us from change or monotony? A definition of rhythm says “measured movement”— can something measured still be free?
This idea of structure and freedom in conjunction with one another reminds me of God’s design for his people. A lot of people look at Christianity and see rules and structure as if it hinders true freedom— you can’t just ‘do whatever you want.’ But maybe rhythm is analogous? The very structure of it offers freedom. A song without rules, a game without boundaries, is chaos and not pleasant to hear or play. But when we can operate within a structure, we have freedom to thrive.
No analogy is perfect, but those are just some of my reflections on the part of Denk’s book that I actually read decently well.
The very concept of music should be intriguing to us, whether we care about classical music specifically or not.
In Gavin Ortlund’s book, Why God Makes Sense in a World that Doesn’t, he argues for God’s existence by looking at the beauty of the world. One of the things he considers is music.
“Neuroscientists note that music affects the same part of our brains as sex and food. But unlike sex and food, it has no obvious survival function— so, from the standpoint of evolutionary psychology, why does it affect us so emotionally?”
What if music is not just a dream, an accident of biology that worked out this way, but a window— a glimpse of something beyond?
Denk exhorts his readers to “Never stop asking questions about music and its purposes” and he offers some of those purposes: “consolation, an armor against disillusionment, pure pleasure, a diversion, a refuge, and a vehicle for empathy.”
I would add: a connection to the Creator. The emotional connection we have with music is something transcendent. There is a reason it touches us the way it does. And that’s worth thinking about. The beauty of music means something.
Recommendation
I feel like this quote sums up the book well:
“The performer has two tasks: one is to do what’s written in the score— incredibly important; and the other, even more important, is to find everything that’s not.”
That’s what Denk sets out to do in this book. To look at what the score tells us but also to get at what it’s not telling us—all within the confines of his life and work.
If you have absolutely no appreciation for music, reading this book could go one of two ways: it’s going to be a slog and you’ll quit reading pretty early on; or it will inspire you to care about music because you’ll see it in a new light.
If you love classical music, you will probably love this book.
If you are somewhere in the middle, you’ll find the bits and pieces that resonate with you like I did, but you may also feel like it gets a little long and overly detailed and you might find yourself skimming more and more.
I give him props for the musical creativity, but I think if the book was a little shorter, it would be easier to recommend.
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When I saw the clever title for this book, I was intrigued to read it.
The cleverness continues within the book in its formatting. The book begins with a prelude and ends with a coda. Paragraph breaks are marked with a ‘rest’ symbol. And the book is divided into three parts: Harmony, Melody, and Rhythm. Each chapter has a playlist of songs that accompany it.
I really liked those little details.
It was evident reading this book how much Denk really does love music. Or at least classical music.
I thought I was a person who loved and appreciated music, but the detail in which Denk describes each song and movement, it’s clear that he is on a different musical wavelength than me.
Although, because I couldn’t relate to such intricate detailed descriptions of classical music, I ended up skimming a good chunk of the last half of the book. I’m sure someone who is familiar with the pieces he is talking about or has the time to listen to all of them while reading (I tried, but some of them were like 30+ minutes long) would be able to understand what he’s talking about, but frankly it just got a little boring to me.
I was hoping for more of a memoir accented by musical analogies, illustrations, and comparisons. But to me it felt more like an annotated playlist sprinkled with some life story staccatos. He does have an annotated playlist as an appendix but I didn’t read it because that felt like double dipping.
Some of the life story segments that were in there were interesting, especially at the beginning as he takes us through the routines of a budding pianist.
I took piano lessons from 2nd grade until high school and there was a part of me that wishes I had taken it for longer and that I had made more of an effort to learn the music theory and chords and how to count better. But then I read about the grueling practice routine and the types of teachers he had and I think, what I was doing or would have ended up doing was so far below that I’m not sure what level I could have even achieved.
He likens the tedious practice to achieve the precision of each technique like this:
“Imagine that you are scrubbing the grout in your bathroom and you are told that removing every last particle of mildew will somehow enable you to deliver the Gettsyburg Address.”
One might ask— is it worth it to go through all that to become a classically performing pianist? Denk would say yes. This was, as the book flap says: “a love letter to the act of teaching.” For Denk it’s more than just performing and playing, it’s about teaching others to understand the music. While he didn’t always like it going through it, when he came out the other side he recognized different things his teachers were doing and how it helped him.
While reading this book, I did reflect on why I don’t have more of an appreciation of classical music. Especially if I play multiple instruments and enjoy music regularly.
He says,
“In general, popular culture demonizes classic music in a way that popular culture is not quite willing to take responsibility for, because most people feel this music is too full of itself, and deserves bullying.”
I think I agree that pop culture, even if we wouldn’t go so far as to say ‘demonizes’ it, does demean it just by the very absence of it anywhere. We only see it displayed at elitist functions for uppity rich people or crazy sociopaths like Silence of the Lambs. This is probably an exaggeration, but still.
There is no doubt that music moves people. Music moves me. All the time. Why am I not moved by classical music? Would I be if I listened to it more? Or do I prefer songs with lyrics? Maybe, but there are many movie scores that I really like— by composers Hans Zimmer or John Williams, or Howard Shore— that don’t contain words. But then I think it might partly be because I have a visual attached to them.
I don’t think classical music needs bullying; we could probably benefit by more of it. But I do think perhaps a ‘calm down’ is in order when it comes to the time commitment. Symphonies average 45-60 minutes. Orchestra concerts are 90 min to 2 hours. And I’m probably showing my lack of knowledge here because I honestly don’t know how that’s all arranged. A symphony is made up of movements but it’s all one “song” right? Orchestra concerts might be made up of multiple songs? I don’t know. I’m not trying to teach you here, I’m just recognizing that people are less likely to ‘get into’ classical music if it’s going to require intense hours of listening and analysis. We’re used to getting short songs on the radio every 3 minutes. Good, bad, or indifferent, it’s reality.
I have no doubt that I did not appreciate his book the way he was hoping, especially since I skimmed so much of it, but I did find these quotes interesting when he talked about harmony, melody, and rhythm.
“Harmonies wander; melodies develop or disintegrate; but only rhythms can truly be free.”
“Harmonies can turn from major to minor in an instant… they act more like water than stone. Melodies are stabler but can be narcissistic, whistling themselves over and over again. But rhythms offer something to hold on to and lean against, a refuge against both change and monotony… a structure that at once gives shelter and permits freedom. And what else is music but a space for us to live in, for awhile.”
I can’t decide if this is profound or dramatic, but there was something about it that drew me in. Maybe it’s because I play bass guitar and rhythm is my job more than harmony or melody.
It feels like the kind of quote that would be interesting to discuss with a variety of musicians. Is Denk saying that rhythm is both stable and also free but harmony and melody is either one or the other? Can rhythm really protect us from change or monotony? A definition of rhythm says “measured movement”— can something measured still be free?
This idea of structure and freedom in conjunction with one another reminds me of God’s design for his people. A lot of people look at Christianity and see rules and structure as if it hinders true freedom— you can’t just ‘do whatever you want.’ But maybe rhythm is analogous? The very structure of it offers freedom. A song without rules, a game without boundaries, is chaos and not pleasant to hear or play. But when we can operate within a structure, we have freedom to thrive.
No analogy is perfect, but those are just some of my reflections on the part of Denk’s book that I actually read decently well.
The very concept of music should be intriguing to us, whether we care about classical music specifically or not.
In Gavin Ortlund’s book, Why God Makes Sense in a World that Doesn’t, he argues for God’s existence by looking at the beauty of the world. One of the things he considers is music.
“Neuroscientists note that music affects the same part of our brains as sex and food. But unlike sex and food, it has no obvious survival function— so, from the standpoint of evolutionary psychology, why does it affect us so emotionally?”
What if music is not just a dream, an accident of biology that worked out this way, but a window— a glimpse of something beyond?
Denk exhorts his readers to “Never stop asking questions about music and its purposes” and he offers some of those purposes: “consolation, an armor against disillusionment, pure pleasure, a diversion, a refuge, and a vehicle for empathy.”
I would add: a connection to the Creator. The emotional connection we have with music is something transcendent. There is a reason it touches us the way it does. And that’s worth thinking about. The beauty of music means something.
Recommendation
I feel like this quote sums up the book well:
“The performer has two tasks: one is to do what’s written in the score— incredibly important; and the other, even more important, is to find everything that’s not.”
That’s what Denk sets out to do in this book. To look at what the score tells us but also to get at what it’s not telling us—all within the confines of his life and work.
If you have absolutely no appreciation for music, reading this book could go one of two ways: it’s going to be a slog and you’ll quit reading pretty early on; or it will inspire you to care about music because you’ll see it in a new light.
If you love classical music, you will probably love this book.
If you are somewhere in the middle, you’ll find the bits and pieces that resonate with you like I did, but you may also feel like it gets a little long and overly detailed and you might find yourself skimming more and more.
I give him props for the musical creativity, but I think if the book was a little shorter, it would be easier to recommend.
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September 1, 2022
Threw this one at the proverbial wall. Denk's comments on so many composers and compositions -- especially about the Classical era -- are merely ignorant, complacent absurdities. They are like farts, of which he is childishly proud, not knowing he is embarrassing himself.
The guy had a rough childhood. His parents were disappointed in life, frustrated, miserable, and they dragged him down with them. Like so many adolescents in this situation he evolved a protective narcissism, striving desperately to maintain a steady self-adoration and plunging into crisis when disturbances at home or school muddled the flattering self-image. Denk describes this fairly unflinchingly, and earns the reader's sympathy. But the narcissism apparently remains, and keeps him from realizing how simplistic, bordering on fatuous, many of his musical observations are.
Want examples? Try almost everything he says about Mozart, Beethoven, or Schubert in the appendix. If that doesn't fill you with righteous indignation -- or at least moderate exasperation -- and if you care about understanding music, then go refine your sensibility by reading Charles Rosen, who is miles above Denk in his musical sensitivity, or the best available biographies of Mozart and Beethoven, or even (gasp!) some mainstream academic musicology. For all the latter's flaws, the ratio of insight to nonsense is at least higher. That I say this in spite of the New-Musicological sound and fury echoing from the 90s should be interpreted not as praise for academia but as criticism of Denk.
The guy had a rough childhood. His parents were disappointed in life, frustrated, miserable, and they dragged him down with them. Like so many adolescents in this situation he evolved a protective narcissism, striving desperately to maintain a steady self-adoration and plunging into crisis when disturbances at home or school muddled the flattering self-image. Denk describes this fairly unflinchingly, and earns the reader's sympathy. But the narcissism apparently remains, and keeps him from realizing how simplistic, bordering on fatuous, many of his musical observations are.
Want examples? Try almost everything he says about Mozart, Beethoven, or Schubert in the appendix. If that doesn't fill you with righteous indignation -- or at least moderate exasperation -- and if you care about understanding music, then go refine your sensibility by reading Charles Rosen, who is miles above Denk in his musical sensitivity, or the best available biographies of Mozart and Beethoven, or even (gasp!) some mainstream academic musicology. For all the latter's flaws, the ratio of insight to nonsense is at least higher. That I say this in spite of the New-Musicological sound and fury echoing from the 90s should be interpreted not as praise for academia but as criticism of Denk.
July 23, 2022
weird guy but really good book, 4.5 stars. i rly enjoyed his writing style, and honestly just the whole format of the book in general, from the chapter "playlists" to the slight music theory feel to parts. i knew i was going to love his book, because i loved his new yorker article so much and i'm a music/literary nerd. this did not disappoint - it was profound, moving, honest, and beautiful. when i get home, i have a lot of music from this book to listen to. ok and one of my favorite quotes near the end:
"Watching dancing friends in a club, I can see that the beat creates a protected space a force field around them, that lets them let it all out: a structure that at once gives shelter and permits freedom. And what else is music but a space for us to live in, for a while."
oh side note though, i'm not rly sure if this book is very approachable/digestible for non-musicians which is unfortunate.
"Watching dancing friends in a club, I can see that the beat creates a protected space a force field around them, that lets them let it all out: a structure that at once gives shelter and permits freedom. And what else is music but a space for us to live in, for a while."
oh side note though, i'm not rly sure if this book is very approachable/digestible for non-musicians which is unfortunate.
June 21, 2022
This is a splendid memoir. I especially enjoyed the first three-quarters, when Denk looks back on his childhood self with the perspective and kindness you really only get as you pass middle age; once he is, in his narrative, about 25, his patience with his former self is replaced by frustration, and I found myself mirroring that frustration. (Also, he doesn't quite know how to end this story, which is a problem when you're writing about something that is still happening. But that's a side note.)
I really enjoyed the story of how a professional musician learns music, though. It's a fascinating idea for a memoir, especially when the author is someone who has fairly intense opinions on how music education should work. (And it is sort of stunning to me how much depends on chance -- on what music teacher he gets, on what that teacher wants to teach. Musical education: a crapshoot!)
I really enjoyed the story of how a professional musician learns music, though. It's a fascinating idea for a memoir, especially when the author is someone who has fairly intense opinions on how music education should work. (And it is sort of stunning to me how much depends on chance -- on what music teacher he gets, on what that teacher wants to teach. Musical education: a crapshoot!)
April 5, 2022
Amazing book, only Denk could have written such a wonderful bildungsroman, a tale of growth and more than anything else the struggle all of us have to go through to grow up in a life. The musical analysis is thrilling and quite moving, I choked up many times during this. I am going to have to read it again, just to savor many of the innumerable points he makes. He is the kind of writer that you wish you have as a friend so that you can delight in his random comments. It is up to the level of his Think Denk blog, which is the highest praise one can give for writing about music
July 27, 2022
Jeremy Denk’s memoir is a pleasure to read. As a young piano prodigy with a generous helping of exuberance and curiosity, Denk’s early start to music travels his triumphs and travails of seemingly overzealous teachers (honest and harsh) and bumps along the way pursuing his love for music. Through all, he maintains his core love of music and we are all grateful for his art.
December 1, 2024
Reading this book was like analyzing a composition in Music Theory III, Fall semester of sophomore year in pursuit of a music degree. (Yes. It's that specific. And an intentional metaphor.) You have a little bit of know-how, a little bit of the familiar. The comfort of a long-loved subject matter.
And a whole lot of frustration wrapped around a concept you still haven't quite figured out in its entirety. Is it a love story? Is it a memoir? Are you looking at the right notes? Reading the right nuance? Is this the right terminology for that decorative note? Did I fuck up the chord progression?
But then, by the time you get to the end... (and in this case, I mean the final paragraph of the acknowledgements), you realize you actually got through the whole thing. You didn't miss the point. All of your ideas were the right ones. And even though it took you way longer to process than you expected such a project to take, you managed to find the beauty and the message in between all of the notes and notes on the manuscript.
It took me ages to finish this book. Sans the "Prelude," which is why I bought the book in the first place, the first 60 pages took me longer to get through than the rest of the book. Once there, much of it felt like too much of one thing and not enough of another. He glossed over some of the most interesting "memoir" elements of his life, and spent endless time breaking down musical concepts. Even being a musician/music teacher myself, I honestly got bored. But not bored enough to put it down. By then I was invested.
It was hovering around a 3/3.5 for most of the book. But his burst of appreciation and emotion in the acknowledgements, and the final paragraph of it bringing an actual tear to me, bumped it up to a 4.
That being said, while there may be a chance you'll find yourself more interested in classical music after reading this book, if you have minimal knowledge of musical study in general, I suspect many of its elements may feel very alienating.
Still, despite all of it, much like making your way through a grand masterpiece...
I kind of liked it.
4 stars.
And a whole lot of frustration wrapped around a concept you still haven't quite figured out in its entirety. Is it a love story? Is it a memoir? Are you looking at the right notes? Reading the right nuance? Is this the right terminology for that decorative note? Did I fuck up the chord progression?
But then, by the time you get to the end... (and in this case, I mean the final paragraph of the acknowledgements), you realize you actually got through the whole thing. You didn't miss the point. All of your ideas were the right ones. And even though it took you way longer to process than you expected such a project to take, you managed to find the beauty and the message in between all of the notes and notes on the manuscript.
It took me ages to finish this book. Sans the "Prelude," which is why I bought the book in the first place, the first 60 pages took me longer to get through than the rest of the book. Once there, much of it felt like too much of one thing and not enough of another. He glossed over some of the most interesting "memoir" elements of his life, and spent endless time breaking down musical concepts. Even being a musician/music teacher myself, I honestly got bored. But not bored enough to put it down. By then I was invested.
It was hovering around a 3/3.5 for most of the book. But his burst of appreciation and emotion in the acknowledgements, and the final paragraph of it bringing an actual tear to me, bumped it up to a 4.
That being said, while there may be a chance you'll find yourself more interested in classical music after reading this book, if you have minimal knowledge of musical study in general, I suspect many of its elements may feel very alienating.
Still, despite all of it, much like making your way through a grand masterpiece...
I kind of liked it.
4 stars.
November 25, 2023
I was absolutely enchanted by the first half of this book. Weaving his personal story in between chapters on harmony, melody and rhythm, Denk muses, charmingly, about music, composers, masterworks and their construction, and what it’s like to be a prodigy.
As a musician, I found all of this fascinating. How to shape a phrase. The temptation to not practice a familiar work. Winning and losing competitions.
And especially: what great teachers do. Denk is fairly ruthless, laying bare some of the myth-making around great musicians and iconic teachers.
But somewhere around 200 pages in, it was just more storytelling, one step above gossip, and more dissection of piano masterworks, more noodling about musicians tied to perfection and metronomes than artistry. The last hundred pages or so—Denk as fully credentialed artist— he runs out of steam, and it gets a little tedious. The annotated bibliography is great, but he kind of limps offstage—the story isn’t over, but he’s already written too much.
Four stars.
As a musician, I found all of this fascinating. How to shape a phrase. The temptation to not practice a familiar work. Winning and losing competitions.
And especially: what great teachers do. Denk is fairly ruthless, laying bare some of the myth-making around great musicians and iconic teachers.
But somewhere around 200 pages in, it was just more storytelling, one step above gossip, and more dissection of piano masterworks, more noodling about musicians tied to perfection and metronomes than artistry. The last hundred pages or so—Denk as fully credentialed artist— he runs out of steam, and it gets a little tedious. The annotated bibliography is great, but he kind of limps offstage—the story isn’t over, but he’s already written too much.
Four stars.
August 11, 2022
J’suis tellement content d’être tombé là dessus! La musique a une immense place dans ma vie et puis c’était tellement intéressant de suivre ce récit de vie d’une personne qui a les mots pour en parler et aider à dresser des parallèles entre sa façon de vivre et sa façon d’apprécier la musique. La version audio était vraiment nice! Il y avais des extrais musicaux qui aidait vraiment beaucoup à comprendre ses ‘’leçons’’. J’en aurais pris pour un autre 13h!
December 25, 2022
Some sections remind me very much of George Saunders’ A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, but rather than being a master class in writing, Every Good Boy Does Fine is a master class in classical piano music. A line that haunts me already is, “The melody keeps remembering notes it left behind.” Denk writes his story of becoming a classical pianist and in it conveys his love for his instrument and the music it brings to life. Also, it's beautifully written.
April 2, 2024
Alternatingly read the hard copy and also listened to the audiobook - Absolutely LOVED the way the author narrated his own work - and the accompanying piano playing was phenomenal. Had a bit of trouble following the structure but am very glad to have spent the last month or so with the company of this book and its tenacious and inspiring author
December 6, 2022
Good memoir. I didn't know who he was so I wasn't particularly invested in it, but he makes it interesting enough. It's good if you're interested in the life of a classical musician.
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