The Ninth: Beethoven and the World in 1824

by Harvey Sachs

Libro usado en buenas condiciones, por su antiguedad podria contener señales normales de uso

Genres: Music, History, Nonfiction, Biography, Audiobook, Classical Music, 19th Century

240 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2010

Reviews

[Kalliope · Rating 3 out of 5]

With a ticket for Dudamel’s version Beethoven’s 9th for mid March, I downloaded this volume with eagerness. Dudamel will be conducting the young and enthusiastic players of the Simon Bolivar Orchestra, who adore him like a god. From this book I expected a general preparation for the event, as if I needed to chasten before a ritual.

Sach’s account, however, has been a mixed reading experience. As it has four clear chapters and as my reaction to each was distinctive, I will discuss them also separately.

The first starts out with an account of the first performance of the ninth symphony that took place on May 7th, 1824 in the Theater am Kärntnertor. He includes some trivia--such as the green coat that composer wore because his black one was not ready, but also some musical insights--such as the difficulties that the sung part presented for the singers. I was glad to be reminded of how Beethoven’s works are often neatly divided into three stages and to review the catalogue of compositions for each. Sachs tells us that it was during the ‘heroic’ or middle phase that Hegel wrote his University of Jena lectures that were later published as the Phaenomenologie des Geistes, Goethe wrote Faust: First Part, and Schiller his Wilhelm Tell. I enjoyed reading the more purely musical indications, such as use Beethoven’s use of diminished fifths in Florestan’s aria in Fidelio; the beginning of the violin concerto with four light solo timpani strokes; the merging of the third and fourth movements in the 5th.. etc.. But otherwise this section just read like a general review of Beethoven’s life and works.

The second chapter exasperated me to the point of being a beat away from abandoning the book. Looking for ‘context’, Sachs surveys the Europe around 1824 to see who else was doing something that is worth mentioning. Thus we get an account of Byron because he fell sick and died in Greece at about the same time as Beethoven was having the premiere of the 9th; of Pushkin’s production of his play Boris Godunov; of Delacroix’s painting Massacre of Chios (the more pertinent connection of Delacroix with Byron is however not made--instead we are told that Delacroix made an entry in his diary about his painting the very day Beethoven was presenting his symphony—very significant); of Stendhal’s publishing Racine Et Shakespeare; and of Heine’s Die Harzreise. There is no connection amongst any of these works, except for the label “Romantic” that we have applied to them later, and for the shared aim of these artists “to strive for an elevated human spirit”. Well, may be there is a direct relation between the two Germans: the composer and Heine. The latter did not appreciate Beethoven’s music; he did not understand it. But Sachs nonetheless sees a parallel since “Heine shared with Beethoven the belief that art had to be independent while remaining strongly connected to real life”.

Luckily, I did not abandon the book and the third chapter offered me what I was looking for. Harvey Sachs has conducted for about two decades in his life. In this section, after an interesting discussion of the relation between language and music, and text and music (not quite the same) he then offers his view of the entire piece, with words, gradually, as if we were to listen to the work while perusing through the score under his guidance. He points at instruments and how they interact with each other; at the progressions created by chords; at how chords can be manipulated to create suspense (for example, by not including the third note in a triad, we have to wait until we know whether we are on a Major or minor key); at the contrasting dynamics; at how the themes form, combine and return. This section is the one I plan to reread while listening to the music, as I prepare for Dudamel's offering.

The last chapter functions as a Postscript. There, Sachs examines how later composers considered Beethoven. From Schubert, who suffered from having lived too close in time to the German master; to Schumann who veneered him through his alter-egos Eusebius & Florestan; to Berlioz who passionately defended him from the French audiences and conducted the symphony in London on its twenty fifth anniversary; to Mendelssohn who borrowed the choral ending for his second Symphony; to Rossini who could not understand Beethoven’s music (Taruskin in his Music in the Nineteenth Century begins with the very striking comparison of these two contemporary composers). But the longest discussion is devoted to the most controversial of all, to Wagner, who saw himself (he was very good at paying attention to himself) as the apex of the musical transformation that Beethoven had begun.

So all in all, this is a mixed bag of a book. Two ok sections, one poor and one rich: three stars for the review then. I mostly welcomed Sachs’ musical observations but the way he approached the historical narrative seemed to me to stand on the wrong footing. We learn very little about the specifically musical setting and practice during Beethoven’s time. Sachs also has a tendency to bring in the opinion of a strange variety of authors such as Margaret Drabble, Ford Madox Ford, Nietzsche, Claire Messud, Carlyle, Hobsbawm, in a haphazard and irrelevant manner to the discussion.

[Tony · Rating 3 out of 5]

The best part, for me, of this analysis of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony is the author's study of what any musical score means, what it says. It's pretty easy to hear things like bird tweets in a nature score, or the grinding crush of ice in the opening of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring. But onomatopoeia aside, what of music that just fills the hearer with emotion. I admit it. I am a sucker for an Adagio. Gorecki's Third almost destroyed me on first hearing. Is it enough just to feel it, or is it preferable, even possible, to know the story being told? So, I wind up reading the linear notes or the program notes and thinking maybe I get it; but really, that could simply be subliminal suggestivity.

In talking about this, Sachs quotes German conductor Wilhelm Furtwangler, "It is in the very nature of music that the clarity of the language it uses is different from the clarity of words: but the language is none the less definite for all that." And Mendelsshon: "The thoughts which are expressed to me by music that I love are not too indefinite to be put into words, but on the contrary, too definite." He tells the story of a composer who goes to the piano and plays a piece of music he has just written. A guest asks what the piece's meaning is. The composer simply returns to the piano and plays the piece again. I love that. And it makes me feel better.

This book was instructive in this and other ways. Much of it seemed like good ideas not fully explored. Setting The Ninth in historical context, in particular, seemed contrived and superficial. I liked the musical explanations more, even if I understood them less.

I have to compare this book to Eric Silbin's The Cello Suites about Bach's unaccompanied works for cello since I read these two works about a month apart. The Cello Suites was more personal and more flawed as a result. But I enjoyed it much more.

[Timothy Hallinan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Harvey Sachs is a writer of considerable power, and this book opened to me not only the world of Beethoven but also the world of the 19th century in Europe, especially the Romantic viewpoint. Sachs does a marvelous job of knitting together the political landscape, the impact of the French Revolution and the absolutist response to it, and the enormous destruction caused by Napoleon, and then translating all of that into a new perspective on art. His portrait of Beethoven, deaf, poor, depending on scribbled messages on tablets to communicate, immensely proud and ashamed of his infirmity, will stay with me for a long time.

Also fascinating for a three-page historical overview of the development of European music, contrasting the north -- mainly Germany -- with the south, which is to say Italy.

The book went astray for me in the long section in which Sachs tries something he admits is impossible -- explaining what's happening in the Ninth. Some of it is beautifully written but it does go on and on. On the other hand, I relistened especially to the first and third movements in light of what he wrote, and they were even more toweringly impressive.

[Tim Chamberlain · Rating 4 out of 5]

Several of the reviewers here on Goodreads seem not to have taken to the format in which this book is framed, but for me this is exactly what made it so enjoyable and accessible. I'm not a musician, nor a music aficionado - but I am a fan of Classical music and Beethoven in particular, and I am also a historian - so reading about the 9th in its cultural context, how it was written, what it represents and what was happening in Beethoveen's life at the time, was fascinating for me. Sach's has a pleasant writing style which isn't at all contrived. The book was rather like an extended version of Donald McCloud's excellent series, 'Composer of the Week', on BBC Radio 3.

[Bookmarks Magazine · Rating 4 out of 5]

The aspect of The Ninth that most consistently impressed critics is Sachs's explanation of this musical masterpiece in a way that is accessible to all readers. They disagreed somewhat on the value of the work's attempt at historical and cultural contextualization, however. A few reviewers found that Sachs overreaches a bit by providing commentary on Beethoven's life from various perspectives, setting him in his historical context, analyzing his music, and then also examining his wider impact. But on the whole, reviewers praised The Ninth as an excellent introduction to the symphony and the man who created it. As the Washington Post noted, "it will send readers to their CD players." This is an excerpt from a review published in Bookmarks magazine.

[Fraser Kinnear · Rating 4 out of 5]

I picked this up from the library on a whim, and was listening to Beethoven’s 9th at work, between stretches of this book. Somehow, either through sheer coincidence or terrifying loss of privacy, a banner ad on one of my news apps sold me a performance of Beethoven’s 9th at the Hollywood Bowl, to attend *this week*.

I really loved this book. By starting with one work of art, Sachs zooms out to look at the life and times that created it, theorizing on the zeitgeist of Romanticism that validated it. Core to this is the rampant oppression that Beethoven and his contemporaries felt following the Congress of Vienna. Sachs’s genius summary of this theory is worth quoting at length:

The inward searching nature of artistic developments after the Congress of Vienna was in part a subconscious, self-defensive tactic for avoiding despair over the condition of restoration Europe. Anyone who has lived under repressive regimes in more recent times will understand the phenomenon. In order to survive, you are forced to pretend to believe in something in which you do not believe, and what that may in fact detest. At the same time, you cannot help but wonder of what conceivable use or consequence your survival could be under such circumstances. But the Romantics, who lived not only before Hitler and Stalin, but also before Darwin, Marx, Freud, and Einstein, did possess as vast a gamut of uncertainties. Not to mention nihilistic beliefs and attitudes as later generations would have at their disposal. Although the despair factor was as present in the human psyche was as present in the early 19th century as it is today, and as it has been throughout human history, the search for absolute meaning was still a reasonable option 200 years ago. Many commentators have described Romanticism as the inspiration behind Europe’s striving towards freedom. But that notion seems to me less sustainable than the converse. The European aspiration for freedom was the inspiration behind Romanticism. And what Stendhal seems to have grasped earlier than anyone else is the fact that the Romantics were not the children of the Revolution, but rather its orphans.

Beethoven’s place in this world, and the importance of the 9th is made clear early in the book:

Beethoven had to camouflage his libertarian aspirations and pay lip service to the rulers on whose patronage he depended, and for whom expressions about universal brotherhood were only too reminiscent of the ideals bandied about by the French Revolution. Ideals that that these rulers had only recently managed to smother. And yet, Beethoven required the singers and instrumentalists who gathered in Vienna on a spring day in 1824 for the world premiere of his new symphony to proclaim repeatedly and insistently the potentially subversive goal of universal brotherhood.

Sachs bolster’s his argument through biographical tangents of many contemporary works, summarized here: “The fact that the 9th Symphony, Byron’s death, Pushkin’s ‘Boris Godunov’ and ‘To the Sea’, Delacroix’s ‘Massacre at Chios’, Stendhal’s ‘Racine et Shakespeare’, and Heine’s ‘Hearts Journey’ and ‘North Sea Pictures’ all furthered in one way or another Romanticism’s rearguard action against repression…”. And it’s no surprise that 1824 is near the chronological midpoint of the Napoleonic wars and the pan-European revolts of 1848. Saint-Simonianism was beginning to flourish, and Bakunin and Marx were to follow.

As expected, there’s loads of Beethoven biographical gems. For example, Beethoven “took part in the direction” of the premiere of the 9th, which was nuts considering he was entirely deaf and incapable of hearing the orchestra (It turns out he was politely ignored by the performers). Professional orchestras didn’t exist in Beethoven’s day, due to the limited scope of conductors, and were mostly staffed by amateurs. Most music consumption in Beethoven’s day was for kitsch and pop, making their tastes no more refined than ours today. Unlike Bach and Mozart (and many others), Beethoven did not normally have to write to a deadline. The stories of Mozart stopping to admire young Beethoven’s playing are probably apocryphal. Beethoven retracted his homage to Napoleon when the general crowned himself as emperor. Most tragic is the evidence from Beethoven’s private notes that his brusque and misanthropic personality was actually the defense mechanism of a man who was terrified of his failing hearing and the society’s response and judgment of his usefulness and employability. Of course, Beethoven’s personality is on full display, and we get wonderful quotes from his writing, like the following:

Who is he that shall control me? Why may not I act and speak and write and think with entire freedom? Who hath forged the chains of wrong and right, of opinion and custom, and must I wear them? Is society my anointed king? I am solitary in the vast society of beings, I consort with no species, I indulge no sympathies. I see the world, human, brute, and inanimate nature. I am in the midst of them, but not of them. I hear the song of the storm, the winds and warring elements sweep by me, but they mix not with my being.

As a pure history book, this is a worthwhile read. But then we get some fantastic art criticism from a person who made a career conducting music and a second writing about it. And while I enjoyed reading Sachs’s account of the work itself (between spells of listening to recordings), his most intelligent criticism actually precedes the detailed examination of the piece, when he effectively admits defeat to ever trying to “interpret” music into language:

In his essay “Is Music Unspeakable?”, the Franco-American cultural historian, Jacques Barzun tells the story of a composer who goes to the piano and plays, for some guests, a piece he has just written. Afterward, one of his listeners asks him what the piece’s meaning is. The composer responds by returning to the piano and playing the piece a second time. “The composer’s answer was entirely right”, says Barzun, “the meaning is inside any work of art, and it cannot be decanted into a proposition.” Or, as Stravinsky put it, “Music means itself.” But Barzun goes on to point out “if music merely tickled the ear, it would still be agreeable, but it would remain a trifling pastime. We know it as much more, and it is plain that the composer can use sounds to set off a particular stirring within us. But the stirring is nameless, so that if it does not accompany the words of a text, and yet we want to refer to it, we have to make up some analogy.” The analogy chosen will vary from one listener to another, regardless of whether the listener is a professional musician, or a musicologist or critic, or a music lover who does not pretend to have inside information. But what most musicians, including this book’s author, hear and feel and imagine in outstanding pieces is of music is… music.

Really looking forward to the performance now.

[March · Rating 2 out of 5]

Uneven, unfocused, and unsatisfying work of music popular-history by a Curtis prof. Does a decent enough job of conjuring the contexts of Romanticism and reactionary post-Napoleonic Europe. But the musical insights are pitifully basic. Not a single measure of music is reproduced -- Sachs's claim not to be a musicologist is amply borne out - and he repeatedly falls back on subjective description and Victorian cliches about the"transcendence" of Beethoven's music. While leaving out so much that is essential, Sacks often loses the plot, and the narrative is easily and often sidetracked into unprofitable detours: unnecessary footnotes about Faust on 54 and Anatole France on 102, a page-long quotation from a poem by Coleridge about British tourism [!!!], substantial asides on the Erie and Welland canals -- plus overlong sections on Byron and Pushkin that eat up no less than 10% of the book.

The book is so padded with non sequiturs and irrelevancies that it reminded me of an undergraduate final exam blue book, in which a student has dumped everything he can possibly think of tangentially related to the subject to disguise all the essentials that are missing.

Sachs also has an annoying habit of making ex cathedra pronouncements, e.g. the pretty unmistakable allusions to the Ninth Symphony in Schubert's own Ninth he dismisses as "coincidental" and claims of influence "far-fetched" (171), without bothering to offer any evidence for such an outlier conclusion -- although a footnote makes it seem this is an excuse to avoid tracing musical influences of the Ninth on later compositions.

In short, too many important avenues left unexplored, too much of the extraneous left in, with section headings that read like scribbled notes toward an emerging thesis ("Relief + regret + repression = Romanticism?") underscoring the book's half-bakedness.

[Juan-Pablo · Rating 2 out of 5]

The most interesting parts of this book are Part One and Part Four. The former is a description, with some speculation, of the Ninth premier in Vienna in 1824. Part Four is an anecdotal account of Beethoven's influence on several composers born before May 7, 1824 (which leaves out, incredibly, Brahms!) This part also contains some reception history.

In Part Two Sachs analyzes several other pieces of romantic art that have some relation with the year 1824. I found this section of the book weak and most of it, irrelevant to the subject. Part Three contains a verbal description of the Ninth Symphony, but just after some wandering on how useless such a description is. It is indeed not very useful if you know the piece, but may have some relevance for people that want to familiarize themselves with the Symphony.

I picked this book with the hope of gaining new insights on Beethoven in general and the Ninth in particular, but ended up not knowing much more that what can be absorbed through a good documentary. The book is too anecdotal to contain interesting new perspectives. I guess the author is right when he writes: "And I suppose that this book is a vastly oversized and yet entirely inadequate thank-you note to Beethoven" [page 198]. It is indeed.

[Michelle Bizzell · Rating 2 out of 5]

Personally, this was not the book I wanted it to be, and that made it a much less enjoyable read than I had hoped. A large portion of the text was devoted to the author's interpretation of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony and general themes that he interpreted in various artistic endeavors around the early Romantic time period, loosely tied to the year 1824. I picked this book up to learn about history and historical performances of the Ninth Symphony, both of which were promised in the introduction and very lightly delivered on. Overall, while I did learn some new things, I was disappointed and would not recommend.

[Emily · Rating 3 out of 5]

I love Beethoven, and his Ninth is one of my favorite pieces of music, so this book was a natural for me to read. The analysis of the score itself, the time period in which it was written, and the effect it had on future music is interesting and very readable. However, the author's political bias, in places where it did not belong, marred my enjoyment of this book. (How the author felt about the Vietnam War really does not help me better understand Beethoven's writing.)

[Melissa S · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is an enjoyable hodge-podge of ideas and bits of information, from a description of the first performance of the 9th symphony to an overview of world events in the early 19th century to a description of the symphony itself, to opinions of Beethoven and his works by his musical contemporaries. For me, an amateur musician with little technical training, the musical descriptions were easy to follow without being overwhelming. And I appreciated the author's personable tone. As a light overview and introduction to Beethoven and his time, this is perfect. If you're looking for in-depth historical context or detailed musical analysis, you'd best look elsewhere.

[Kristina · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of the best books I've read in a while!

I devoured this as an audiobook over a 8 hour road trip, followed immediately by a recording of the symphony. The author's passion for not only Beethoven and classical music, but also history and this era in particular, shone throughout each section. There was a portion where Sachs goes into great detail about the specifics of the music; much of that admittedly went over my head but I still found it fascinating.

[Jae · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book has two subjects. Firstly, Beethoven's Ninth Symphony, it creation, performance and context. And secondly, Harvey Sachs. At times the author's voice intrudes a little too forcefully, but I found myself becoming quite attached to his idiosyncratic way of expressing himself and his (at times) almost overwhelming enthusiasm for his subject. It was in the third section of the book that he really excelled as he deconstructed the symphony bar by bar. I learned so much and enjoyed it immensely.

[Stephen · Rating 3 out of 5]

"The Ninth Symphony, a symbol of freedom and joy, was Beethoven’s mightiest attempt to help humanity find its way from darkness to light, from chaos to peace. Yet the work was born in a repressive era." This promo copy really says it best.

I hadn't thought that much about the Romantic Period (early 1800s) in art/poetry/music even though that's where I seem to hail from. This book brought it into clearer focus. Rooted in the personal freedoms won in the French Revolution but then squelched by the return to dominance of the aristocracy, the Romantic Period celebrated the individual. Also the movement represents a recoiling from the dehumanizing Industrial Revolution, and serves as a push-back to the scientific community desirous of explaining everything rationally, Beethoven and others ignited a rallying cry for the human spirit, human emotion.

As the author writes, "...spiritual and intellectual liberation requires endless warfare against everything in ourselves that narrows us down instead of opening us up and that replaces questing with certitude."

Ergo: certitude bad, keeping an open mind good.

To that end, so many things bring me joy, "Ode to Joy," should be my mantra. Shackles should not exist, pushing your own boundaries, questing, should be everyone's driving force.

If your heart does not sing "Ode to Joy" every day, at least by the Fourth Movement, then maybe you are doing something wrong.

If the eagle soars, go with it.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rating this book presents a dilemma for me. Objectively the book rates three stars. To have my interested piqued about a subject area I know little about, the book rates five stars. I’ll split the difference and rate it with four.

Sachs analyzes Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony in four parts. The first part is a straightforward bio of Beethoven and high level description of the symphony. So far, so good. In the second part Sachs draws relationships between Beethoven as the proto-romantic (author’s words) with other romantics like Byron and Pushkin. Seemed like a stretch to me. The third section is Sachs’s thought process as he conducts the symphony. Sachs says the book is not very technical but this section had me at sea. Still, it is neat to see how a conductor thinks about a piece of music: oboe is staccato in bars 45-49 in the second movement. The last part looks at Beethoven’s influence on later musicians and the larger world. This part is well done. Sachs closes with a heartfelt chapter about what Beethoven has meant to him ever since he was young boy.

If a good book is one that opens new doors to the reader, then this is a very good book. I listened to the Ninth Symphony before reading this book. I’m looking forward to listening to it again. Thank you Mr. Sachs.

The reader of this audiobook, Patrick Egan, was superb.

[(Peter) · Rating 3 out of 5]

fascinating and informative. The year 1824 is presented as a year of monumental cultural achievements, not only in the launching of Beethoven's last and greatest symphonic work, but also in the works of Pushkin, Coleridge and others. These accomplishments are all set against the backdrop of the troubling spirit of the times characterized by the repressive backlash against the liberalizing reforms of Napoleon. Memories of what could have been, glimpses of another kind of world, are buried under the heavy handed authoritarian measures of Metternich and the Congress of Vienna. Parallels exist within our own times - the nasty repression of liberal values by the forces of the right who gleefully turn back the advances made in human rights since 1945, and work to dismantle the concept of the caring society, paving the way for the rich to get richer, the mighty to get mightier.

One drawback for me - this book is written for music afficianados. One quarter of the book is a highly detailed and technical analysis of the 9th symphony in language beyond my experience. It did encourage me to carefully listen to the music to try to follow what the author was saying, but I often felt like a kindergarten child in a university lecture hall. Still, a worthwhile read for me.

[Kevin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Parts of this book were exactly what I expected and was hoping for (the moments of Beethoven's life leading to the Ninth; a brief analyses of the score; some information on the world in 1825), but other portions, specifically around Beethoven's contemporaries in all areas of art, were unexpected and not entirely welcome.

Part one and three focus on the symphony and Beethoven. There are some interesting comments on Beethoven's life and some interesting ideas on different parts of the symphony.

Part two focuses on other artists artists of the the Romantic era that had a publication in 1824. I found many of the connections tenuous and best and the entire chapter a generally uninteresting read.

The final part focuses on artists after Beethoven: the comments on Wagner's, Schubert's and Mendelssohn's interpretations were fascinating. I would have enjoyed further reading on other composer's thoughts of the Ninth (perhaps Mahler, especially with his Eigth and his purported terror of writing a Ninth) over hearing the author's personal introduction to classical music and Beethoven.

[Brian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beethoven turned up everywhere. I was 19 the first time I took off in an airplane after dark and I thought, as I looked at the lights in New York City below, “wouldn’t have Beethoven been thrilled by a sight like this?” I was able to project him into the present in a way that I could not have done and never would have dreamed of doing with the other composers I loved. His physical existence, which had come to an end nearly a century and a half earlier, colored my own - still fresh and young. I know at the outset of my young adult life, when the government of my native country demanded that I participate in a war that I considered unjust, cruel, stupid and tinged with racism, Beethoven and his resilient, universalizing music which seemed to transcend all human tendencies toward disunity, but also, simultaneously, toward mindless obedience, toward following the multitude to do evil were the main influences that helped me decide to emigrate rather than do what was expected of me.

[Janice Fehlauer · Rating 2 out of 5]

A rather disappointing read. The concept of the book (focusing on a single year and the musical, cultural, and political events that defined that year) was interesting, but it lacked coherence and academic rigour. There were a few interesting Beethovenian insights (such as Beethoven's "universalizing of the intimate"). Many of the musical and cultural observations, however, were amateurish, and overall it read like a student term paper encumbered by clumsy and rambling sentences like this one:

"Each of these musical giants, and others as well, possessed unique qualities that will probably continue to be a source of intellectual and emotional stimulation - and of pure pleasure - unless and until human begins take a sharp evolutionary turn or are wiped (or wipe themselves) off the face of the earth."

[Mac · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book tells the story of Beethoven's 9th Symphony in the context of its time. Harvey Sachs has written it for a general audience, without much technical musical language. To me, the best part of the book was the section on the historical events leading up to 1824. It was helpful to be reminded of the seeming promise of freedom inaugurated by Napoleon's conquest of the old order in Europe, followed by the crushing reaction following Napoleon's defeat. The history of the first performance of the 9th Symphony was familiar but well told. Sachs also inserts himself at different times into the book, giving us a sense of why he wanted to write it, but also perhaps telling us more about his own history than we need to know.

The Ninth is not a groundbreaking classic, but if you are looking for a general introduction to Beethoven's last symphony, it fits the bill well.

[John M · Rating 1 out of 5]

A ridiculously, crummy book. The author gave no real purpose for his writing and just wandered through the desert for a lot longer than 40 years. There were a few times that the author approached a thesis statement, but only well after spending way too many pages wandering about. Even in those instances, the author would go on and on and on and then, after the fact, try to summarize and express the awkward beginnings of a thesis statement. I can see how Beethoven can be a very fascinating subject, but without a clear sense of direction, there was no purpose to all of the exposition. Clearly, this author does not rise to the level of the Ninth in his writing abilities.

[Austin · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Ninth is strongest when presenting historical facts or discussing artists and intellectuals that were Beethoven's contemporaries or later composers influenced by him. Unfortunately, it spends too much time on speculation (for example, there is an extended, imagined dialogue of Beethoven's thoughts at the premier of the symphony) and descriptions of personal feelings (we learn that Beethoven was for teenage Sachs his "Alpha and Omega," and Sachs describes how each change in the music makes him feel).

[David Freudenburg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Besides a description of the music itself, the premier is placed in the artistic, cultural, and political context of the day. This all helps to make the piece more vivid and meaningful. biographical information on Beethoven is likewise very helpful.

[Doris Raines · Rating 2 out of 5]

I LIKE THIS.

[Socraticgadfly · Rating 2 out of 5]

Like a light lunch that soon passes, so to speak.

First, Sachs fails to some degree on his "thesis," of tying Beethoven's Ninth to the year of its completion.

Second, he fails to some degree on his analysis of the Ninth.

Third, he fails to some degree on his take on Beethoven's connection to later musicians. As another reviewer notes, there's almost no tie of him to Brahms. There's no discussion of why, other than Berlioz in the extended symphonic tone poem Romeo and Juliet, or Mendelssohn in the meh 2nd Symphony, attempted a chorale symphony for decades.

In the broader world of 1824, where's Jeremy Bentham and utilitarianism, which could certainly be seen as a "humanistic" philosophy? (Bentham started a quarterly magazine that year.) Where's the founding of the Mechanics Institute in Manchester, England? Where's Lafayette's visit to the US, certainly worthy of mention more than the Erie Canal nearing completion?

In the critique of the Ninth, as others have noted, there's not one single image of a manuscript. OK.

The opening part's mini-biography of Beethoven was, all things considered, relatively good. But, that's about it.

[Alex Rauket · Rating 2 out of 5]

In short, not enough Beethoven.

I say that, worried however that it might be taken the wrong way. The book covers in some detail the significant artistic events of 1824 in there context of the impact on Romanticism as a force. These are always linked, however tenuously, to Beethoven's great symphony, which the author likens on multiple occasions to an unsurpassed legacy.

While I am fan of Beethoven (I find that I often feel connected emotionally with the composer through his work), I often was put off my Sachs's seemingly worshipful revenence of the great composer; I was worried at time that this might have biased his viewpoint and made connections and significance appear where there might not be one.

I must admit, however, that I am not as musically versed as the author and if I was, I might perhaps take another view. Then again, this book is portrayed as appropriate for the layperson.

I would have like to read more about the specifics surrounding Beethoven at the time of writing, rather then significant time spent philosophizing about other contemporaneous artists.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Others here summarise the book so I will restrict myself to some general comments. The description of the circumstances of the first performance is well done and the context convincingly described. The broader, cultural background is more debatable, which doesn't mean that an erudite cultural historian, such as Sachs, should not attempt an analysis. The relationship with the Romantic movement is not an easy subject to grapple with, and this account is at least credible. As Sachs noted in the postscript, his motivation was to describe the year - 1824 - and what it represented. That has to be a slightly mannered task, but he brings it off well. I especially enjoyed the political background, autocracy and repression, and the reaction of artists. All in all, a satisfying volume that I enjoyed.

[Carol · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book examines Beethoven's Ninth and its political and artistic context, although its modest length doesn't allow for great depth in either topic. Sachs is a good writer and clearly loves his subject. I very much liked his analysis of the political conditions of 1824, and I liked his look at painting and literature of the times even more. I think Sach's long, metaphor-laden description of the symphony itself was the least interesting part of the book, especially for anyone who has studied the work themselves. It could have been cut in favor of more discussion of the reception of the Ninth.

[Mark Kloha · Rating 1 out of 5]

I do not recommend this book. I understand what the author was trying to do - paint a picture of everything else that was going on in 1824 including poets, philosophers, artists, revolutions, etc. However, it was poorly organized - I mean severely disorganized. At times the author would be rambling on about himself without any real point to be made. The author would do disorganized mini bios on other people who were around in 1824 while jumping between that mini bio to another mini bio back to Beethoven. Im certain there are better books out there about Beethoven and the times in which he lived.

[Jon · Rating 3 out of 5]

It was a nice touch that the last track of the last disk of the audio book was the music we had been discussing. I am not really into classical music but I thought this audio book may be enlightening for me. It was. I learned many things about Beethoven other composers ans what the world was like in 1824. I did not know about the revolution in Greece. I did not know that Beethoven's nephew was taking care of him. I was surprised that the lifespan of people in those days was so short. I gained a bit of enlightenment and culture from this book.