Tchaikovsky. The Story of a Lonely Life
14.99 €
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Tchaikovsky. The Story of a Lonely Life
14.99 €
Nina Berberova (1901–1993) was a novelist and poet, the "first Parisian lady of Russian literature," and the author of the sensational autobiography, "My Italics" (1969).
In the 1930s, Berberova wrote a fictionalized biography of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. She creates a portrait of a living man, a portrait without a mask, yet remains tactful and faithful to the facts. A perpetual stranger, she speaks of the Russian composer as if she had never left Russia...
"Music had too much of an effect on Pierre, especially when he 'fantasized' on the piano. He cried out in his insomnia: 'Oh, this music, this music!'"
"I can't hear anything, there's no music," Fanny replied, hugging him.
"She's here, here!" he cried, sobbing and clutching his head. "She gives me no peace." "But through these childhood insomnias, through the daily difficulties, a kind of proud joy now increasingly came over him, as if he'd decided something for himself, had been searching for something, for a long, long time—searched and found, illuminated some dark corner within himself. He could finally, in this strange, sonorous language, truly talk about himself—but the main thing wasn't being understood, the main thing was to express himself in it."
In the 1930s, Berberova wrote a fictionalized biography of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. She creates a portrait of a living man, a portrait without a mask, yet remains tactful and faithful to the facts. A perpetual stranger, she speaks of the Russian composer as if she had never left Russia...
"Music had too much of an effect on Pierre, especially when he 'fantasized' on the piano. He cried out in his insomnia: 'Oh, this music, this music!'"
"I can't hear anything, there's no music," Fanny replied, hugging him.
"She's here, here!" he cried, sobbing and clutching his head. "She gives me no peace." "But through these childhood insomnias, through the daily difficulties, a kind of proud joy now increasingly came over him, as if he'd decided something for himself, had been searching for something, for a long, long time—searched and found, illuminated some dark corner within himself. He could finally, in this strange, sonorous language, truly talk about himself—but the main thing wasn't being understood, the main thing was to express himself in it."
See also:
- All books by the publisher
- All books by the author
- All books in the series The lives of famous people