“The Gr8 American Txt Msg Nvl”

Peter Hyman, author of The Reluctant Metrosexual: Dispatches from an Almost Hip Life, wrote in the January 26, 2009 issue of Publishers Weekly (“Soapbox”) a query letter to a literary agent describing his decision to stop work on his Great American Novel and begin work on “the Gr8 American Txt Msg.”  He argues that the time is right for this “TGATM” because ”TGATM” is “free of meaningful contexts, broad cultural truths or well-defined characters…” among other things.  To give the agent a feel for what he means, Hyman converts some famous novels to txt msg.  My personal favorite: “Dvl Wers Prda — F U Miranda!.”  His full article is here. 

Thank you, Peter Hyman, for writing this article!  It illustrates tongue-in-cheek my fear of the erosion of the English language by text messaging.  How to shorten  the manuscript of a novel?  Write it in text message language.  I certainly would not want to be the copyeditor of that book…. 

I wonder: how many people would read a book written in text message language?

The Minnesota Orchestra

In the beginning of Perceval, American conductor Evan Quinn is conducting the Vienna Philharmonic in Vienna, Austria.  His usual musical instrument, however, is the Minneapolis State Symphony Orchestra in Minneapolis.  I realized recently that although the Minneapolis State Symphony is his hometown band and extremely important to him, in the Perceval series, he never actually conducts it.  So, I don’t write about this orchestra except in terms of Evan’s memories or the recordings that he made with them. 

The Minneapolis State Symphony Orchestra is actually the name given it by the Arts Council in Washington in the Perceval series.  The AC re-named all American orchestras to include “State” somewhere in the name, e.g. St. Louis State Symphony, Chicago State Symphony, National State Symphony, etc., to reflect their “ownership” of them.  The Minneapolis State Symphony is really the Minnesota Orchestra, and this would not be hard to figure out in the context of the novels.  When I worked for the Minnesota Orchestra, I was writing the early drafts of the first novel in the series and doing research.  I talked with musicians and staff about my research and asked them many questions.  Eventually, however, someone started the rumor that I was actually writing about the people I worked with, which wasn’t the case at all, nor did I base any of my characters on anyone there.  The closest I came to writing about them and the orchestra was to make it Evan’s hometown band and Evan the music director as backstory to the series.

I’ve been thinking about this the last two weeks as the Minnesota Orchestra performed the programs that it will perform on its European tour (they leave today) for the next two weeks.  Evan’s European tour took him to London, Berlin, Paris and Vienna.  The Minnesota Orchestra’s 2009 tour will take them to London, Berlin, Cologne, Dusseldorf, Stuttgart, Frankfurt, Luxembourg, and Vienna.  If the Orchestra were performing Rachmaninoff, Tchaikovsky and Joseph Caine’s music, I’d really be spooked.  But no, they’ll perform Carl Nielsen’s Fifth Symphony, Jean Sibelius’ Second Symphony, John Adams’ Slonimsky’s Earbox, Samuel Barber’s Violin Concerto (with Joshua Bell, violin soloist) and Beethoven’s Third Symphony. (For news of the tour, check Inside the Classics — Sam Bergman and Sarah Hicks will blog during the tour.)  Not all on the same program, of course.  I heard the Adams-Barber-Beethoven program this week: the Adams will really wake them up for the transcendent Barber and the Beethoven sounds like what “heroic” should sound like.  Osmo Vanska will conduct, not Evan Quinn.  And the orchestra is much better off with Osmo Vanska because Evan’s a fictional character and doesn’t really exist…..

Speaking of conductors, the Minnesota Orchestra’s Associate Conductor, Mischa Santora (“Does Height Make the Conductor?”), caught the attention of Tom Purdom at the Broad Street Review  last fall (http://www.broadstreetreview.com/index.php/main/article/conductors_and_the_vision_thing).  Mr. Santora had conducted a concert with the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia and discussed the program afterward with Shai Wosner, the soloist for the concert.  Mr. Purdom was extremely impressed with the concert, the discussion and Mr. Santora.  He wrote that he’d add Santora to his “worth watching” list.  So I’m wondering if “worth watching” is also some kind of code in the classical music media for “worth hiring”?  In the highly competitive world of classical music conductors, only time will reveal the answer….

Concert Programs

Last night, I heard an amazing Minnesota Orchestra concert conducted by Osmo Vanska: Carl Nielsen’s Fifth Symphony and Jean Sibelius’ Second Symphony.  I had heard both of the symphonies before, the Sibelius many times because I love it.  The Nielsen didn’t impress me before, but last night, the orchestra revealed sounds that I had not heard before.  The intensity riveted me, compelled me to listen.  I want to hear it again. 

Today I’m thinking about concert programs.  The Minnesota Orchestra leaves next Saturday to begin a European tour and the program last night is one they are taking on tour.  Next week, I hear another tour program that includes a short John Adams work I don’t know, Samuel Barber’s Violin Concerto and Beethoven’s Third Symphony.  How did Osmo Vanska decide what to program for the tour?  When taking an orchestra on tour, I’d imagine that the first consideration for programming is logistics and personnel required to play it, but also what would show off the orchestra’s sound and abilities to the best advantage, no matter what the acoustics are like in the tour venues.  The Nielsen sounded fiendishly difficult, a true virtuoso piece for orchestra.  The Sibelius has its own challenges and is a real crowd pleaser.  I love Mr. Vanska’s tempos for the Sibelius.  Adams and Barber are American composers and Beethoven, well, Beethoven is Beethoven and the only pre-20th century composer on the tour programs.  Certainly all these works must be music that Mr. Vanska also loves.  But there must be lots of music he loves, so how does he decide?

I asked him a couple years ago what the most important thing was in developing a concert program.  He told me that timings were the most important, i.e. the timings of the works programmed.  A classical music concert runs about two hours, give or take a few minutes.  (Union and contract considerations influence the length of a concert.)  The intermission is 20 minutes.  That leaves 100 minutes to fill with music.  Generally, the longest work lands on the second half.  A ”standard” concert program would begin with an overture, followed by a concerto, then intermission followed by a symphony.  Of course, variations exist, as Mr. Vanska demonstrated with the tour program of two symphonies.  With especially long symphonies, like Gustav Mahler’s Seventh, they may be the only work on the program, played without intermission. 

Early in writing Perceval, I realized that Evan Quinn, as a conductor, would need to develop concert programs to conduct.  That meant I had to learn about programming.  First, I studied concert programs of both American and European orchestras.  Second, I needed to decide the extent of Evan’s repertoire.  In 2048 America, the Arts Council regularly bans music, books, movies, etc., that it decides it doesn’t like or doesn’t sell enough to make a profit for it.  So, Evan’s repertoire would have holes in it.  I made up a list of banned composers (which I haven’t looked at since!) and plunged into creating the programs for the concerts Evan conducts in the novel.  I realized quickly that I wanted the music to do double duty: not only be music he conducts but also to move the story forward or reveal his character in some way.  That has been my criteria ever since as I’ve created concert programs for Evan in subsequent novels in the series.

I’m really looking forward to the Minnesota Orchestra’s concert next week, and to following their European tour online at their website….

A Love Letter

I love real letters.  I love opening my mailbox and seeing thick envelopes addressed to me in personal handwriting and not typed.  Inside are pages and pages of handwriting, the strokes and curves of news, ideas, thoughts and feelings.  Each page is almost a work of art, the handwriting unique to the individual and reflecting the writer’s emotional state at the time.  Handwriting has more personality than any typeface, and unique typefaces exist.  But for me, knowing that someone took the time to sit down, write by hand his or her thoughts and feelings to me is precious.  Especially now that e-mail rules correspondence.

Not that I dislike e-mail.  As a fast and relatively efficient method of communication, it works.  For complete privacy, security, and fewer misinterpretations, however, nothing beats low tech.  The last two years I’ve committed to writing more real letters.  Showing people my respect and depth of regard by taking the time to write a real letter.  I fear the craft and art of letter-writing will be lost.  Instead of the collected letters of writers, politicians, etc., there will be the collected e-mails, instant messages and text messages.  And what will those tech messages say?  “U R my BFF?”  How does that compare to “You are my only love” written by hand in a beautiful shade of blue ink with the distinctive script of the writer?

An entire generation uses text messages, instant messages and e-mails, even videos, to communicate.  It’s fast for them, but I wonder just how much thought and effort is involved.  A new form of English has evolved out of tech messages, one full of abbreviations and phonetic spellings.  That’s creative, but just how expressive is this new language?  How effective is it for discussing anything with depth of thought and emotion?  From what I’ve observed, expressiveness and depth is lost in favor of speed.  I fear the process of thinking and problem-solving will follow.

Will tech messages change also the writing of stories?  The computer and internet have already changed the business of writing and access to markets for publication.  Language evolves through usage.  Do the computer and cell phones mark the beginning of the extinction of English as a living language?  What about other languages?

In the Perceval novels, I made a choice to downplay technology and electronics.  Real letters are as prevalent as e-mail and cell phones, hardcover and paperback books as popular as e-readers.  I’m all for progress and improving life, but not at the expense of real, thoughtful, and deep communication between people, especially to promote understanding and empathy.  What I created in the future of Perceval was the choice: one or the other, both or neither.

Now and in the future, I love real letters.