In my effort to provide a “simple” and “direct” summative reflection of Barzun’s “Music into Words” essay, I will offer a single word – inconsistent.
Barzun’s essay, originally written for a lecture in 1951, illuminates some of the fundamental questions and other issues that emerge when writing about music. Can vivid, evocative language capture the embodied meaning of a musical performance? Does a metaphorical or literary approach reduce musical meaning to “information” or “messages of utility?” Is it possible to marry the “literary” and the “musical” in words? To answer these questions, Barzun takes readers through several passages of literature to describe both the imperfections of and the efficacy of written language.
Unfortunately, Barzun’s essay is generally rambling and awkward. His discussion meanders through long-winded and cumbersome pathways, especially in the first half of the essay.
“The stuff of each art is assigned some flat, blunt attributes that supposedly exclude one another: words point to things and ideas; paint can reproduce the visible world of nature; music is pure form; architecture is machinery for living groups; poetry, dance, and music are time arts; the plastic and graphic arts are concerned with space – none of these aphorisms is without suggestiveness and importance, but not one of them is wholly and exclusively true” (pp. 17-18).
The above is an example of an unwieldy passage from Barzun’s essay. Could he have communicated this message in a more elegant, concise way? I think so. While he does make his point succinctly at times, his language is generally tedious and unmanageable.
In the introduction to Simple and Direct (1975), Barzun offers some helpful thoughts for students of writing. He states that much writing – especially academic writing – is filled with “clutter.” According to Barzun, to refine writing is to remove this clutter. He provides a handy rule for students: “Prefer the short word to the long; the concrete to the abstract; and the familiar to the unfamiliar” (p. 13). He does offer a caveat, however, instructing students to “modify these guidelines in light of the occasion, the full situation, which includes the likely audience for your words” (p. 13).
Due to its intended audience, Barzun’s “Music into Words” essay could perhaps be an exception to this rule. After all, this was first delivered to the Library of Congress. Perhaps Barzun’s “simple and direct” ideas on writing appeared after this 1951 address (before the 1975 publication of Simple and Direct). Regardless of the reason, the “Music into Words” essay is neither simple nor direct.
Nice article. You're absolutely right about this essay being neither simple or direct. He does have a some useful things to say, but it just takes too long to get there.
ReplyDeleteI often judge the quality of orchestral concerts by the number of times I check my watch, or how excited I am to realize that the violins (this depends on my viewing angle, it could just as easily be the cellos if I'm sitting stage right) have made it to the last page of their music. Let's just say that while reading this essay my clock and was the object of many longing glances, and the excitement in the room was palpable when I turned the final page...
It took me a L O N G time to get to the last page. Drowsiness is another measure for me of how engaging a piece of writing is...z z z. I'm surprised that Barzun chose "complicated and indirect" over what he recommended for others (S and D). Vivid images, Nathan!
ReplyDeleteI read most of Barzun's article in the rain. Kindles are great like that. Maybe that has something to do with my appreciation for it. I've also read many other works, like sermons, "based" on speech patterns (but see the Twain post). They communicate best when read aloud, or at the speed of speech. That's about the speed I was going on my rain-muddled Kindle screen. Barzun is preaching in this article, complete with an inspirational call to action at the end. If writing is food for the eyes to consume, simple and direct is a sensible meal easily digested. Not so here. This is meant, Dickens-style, to be savored morsel by rich morsel. As four-course verbal feasts go, this would not pass for royal fare. But it's still enjoyable, on a rainy afternoon, walking from Little to Young and back.
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