Sunday, February 7, 2021

The Failure of Merit

I had an interesting brief conversation with a friend who shall remain entirely nameless who complained particularly about the appeal of a presidential candidate who shall also remain nameless, and this candidate's particular appeal to the Washington DC crowd, who view American life as a series of policy dilemmas to be unpacked in a break out session.
Of course, the irony of this complaint, an entirely legitimate complaint from someone with more policy experience than nearly any friend I know, is that so many of life's most important questions are solved in exactly that way. The vast majority of problems are solved neither by galvanizing speeches or slogans shouted in a street, but by smart people in conference rooms deliberating in good faith on statistics compiled in good faith by people of good faith in other conference rooms, learning everything there is to know about a subject in their free time, and from all the data learned creating entirely new byways of inquiry for which an entirely new series of questions are formed, which necessitates compilation of entirely new statistics, a process which goes on, year after decade after century after....
The problem is that nobody believes that but the people who know it's true. People do not like the idea that they can be reduced to units, abstractions, automatons whose actions may be entirely predetermined before it ever occurs to them there's any decision to make. Every meritocrat is a living reminder to everybody who is not a meritocrat that they can be reduced to that level of trivia, and that compared to the smarter, better accomplished person with power over them in a thousand ways, they're at best a number or a laboratory experiment, and at worst an expendable, useless cog in a societal machine, whose every advantage in life can be removed with a simple wave of a hand.
I know a lot of meritocrats. I even like a lot of them... the vast majority of them are people of excellent faith who want nothing more than to do some good for the world, the ones I know anyway... If nothing else, knowing that they'll leave the world a better place than they found it is the only way many of them can square their disproportionate advantages to their consciences. And knowing them, I know in my bones that, at least at this point in history, if we all accepted that we're trivial enough to be treated as simple bits of data by a bunch of nerds in public service, each of us would probably would find our individual lives a lot more fulfilling to live. And then consider the alternative.... We all know the power of big data at this point. The chance to use data to improve our lives is exponential from what it even was a generation ago. The data is there, and can either be used for good or evil. If we don't allow our lives to be determined by nerdy public servants in conference rooms, our lives will be determined by data nerds in private board rooms who place no value on service at all.
However true, most people don't believe that. Whether the other person in a room with a meritocrat is white or of color, most of them have no idea about the good that lurks in the hearts of meritocrats, and yet they know a meritocrat the moment they walk in a room. You see their eyes grow wider and narrower at the same moment as every muscle tightens, they grow completely circumspect in what they say as they worry that every word out of their mouths can forfeit a potential advantage or place them on a blacklist of whose existence they may always be unaware. The very fact that meritocrats are now capable of reaching the top by achievement rather than simple bloodline makes the rest of us all the more scared, because even if the meritocrat seems like a complete dumbass in every way but scholastic and professional achievement, their achievements can be seen as proof positive that these people are, in fact, smarter than the rest of us, more talented, they may even be 'better'.....
This may shock those who've read this far, but life is unfair. Some people really are more talented and capable. Are the people of our generations who go to top schools and make high six figure salaries the most talented and capable of us? Not really, almost all of them are talented and capable (unless their name happens to be Trump or Bush...), but to go from success to success in modern America requires a second skill set which most of us do not possess: the ability to take on every quality your interlocutor wants from you. You have to simultaneously stand out for your achievements and blend in by your personality. You have to be the most knowledgeable researcher for any job, but also be a person whose findings do little to challenge the established way of things. Your personality has to fit the exact contours of the nine dots so perfectly that anyone whose personality goes in a different direction from an exact shape (99% or more of us...) can't relate to you, and if people can't relate you, most will therefore think you can't relate to them, and nothing can convince them that you would ever know how to make decisions in their interests: decisions about their lives whose implications, irony of ironies, you really are much better qualified to make for them than they are for themselves.
Unless they're a billionaire, a personality too large will be thrown out of the elite. The smartest people I know are, generally speaking, too interesting to achieve too much in modern America. Their thoughts run in too many different directions, both right and left, and to speak them aloud to the wrong people would jeopardize their entire futures, and yet they can't help but speak them aloud, and therefore the world loses everything it would gain by letting them spread their knowledge and talents, and allowed into an arena where their personalities are large enough for the public relate to them.
Why all that is is for another post, but if one thing is perfectly clear, it's this: the modern American meritocracy was over before it even began. We've never even had a meritocrat president. The closest the meritocracy ever came to capturing the Presidency was Bill Clinton, a candidate who would never pass muster today, not just because of his sexual misconduct, but because his ideological flexibility would cancel his Presidential ambitions from the moment he announced his candidacy. Nobody ever trusted a smart guy before now, but how much less do they trust a smart guy like Slick Willie who espouses every contradictory thing people want to hear from year to year? And Barack Obama? Precisely the opposite problem. No African-American Columbia transfer student who dealt weed and did coke would ever be regarded as a true citizen of American's top class unless he was foisted into the elite by a grassroots campaign. And then, there is the simple fact that twice in the last twenty years, two of the dumbest men in America sailed over the entire meritocracy to the Presidency, and installed all their dumb-as-a-brick advisors and courtiers as henchmen. No amount of good policy can ever sell America on something without a natural-born salesperson to lead it, and a salesman has to take you into their confidence, make you see the common ground between yourself and they. To most contemporary Americans, high achievers are self-selectingly unrelatable. To many Americans, high achievers seem at best like a combination of wizards and robots, algorithms given human form who always know the exact impolitic thing that should stay unmentioned and the exact nuance of conversation to work to their continued advantage, and at worst like members of a social club that cares about nothing but increasing their privileges and keeping the rest of us away from them.
And this is why Joe Biden succeeded where Pete Buttigieg and Elizabeth Warren failed. The Biden Presidency is only a product of his straight white maleness by virtue of how it makes him seem so average. Whether true or false, Americans believe that Joe Biden knows what it's like to be them, and few Americans believe that either Warren or Buttigieg knows much about what it means to have an underprivileged life.
Buttigieg, the candidate from South Bend, seems like an impersonation of an underprivileged background. Buttigieg is extraordinary in so many ways, he's already clearly the best orator of our generation, he cut unemployment in half as mayor of South Bend and made his city a serious tech hub, but he was also a consultant at McKinsey - a company who helped Purdue sell $10 billion in opioids to unwitting addicts, and only grew up in South Bend because he is the son of a endowed chair literary theorist at Notre Dame who was an avowed Marxist. This supposed new liberal lion simultaneously benefited from the most radical elements of both capitalism and socialism, and consciously projects an image of liberal decency that is completely at odds with both sides of his background. I have no doubt Buttigieg believes in his heart that McKinsey did colossally evil things and that his father was colossally wrong, but he nevertheless exploited colossal advantages accorded from both radical capitalism and radical socialism, and now is free to write his future in a way that conveniently erases every unsympathetic element of his elite past which allowed him such a meteoric rise.
As for Warren, the shelf of bullshit awards speaks for itself: Bostonian of the Year, Fifty Most Influential Women Attorneys in America, Honorary Doctrates, Oklahoma Hall of Fame, membership in the Order of the Coif (a law society), a five time listee of TIME's 100 Most Influential People in the world before she was even a Presidential candidate. These are not awards based on merit, they're awards based on who you know. For every woman who makes it on these lists, just like every man, there are five thousand deserving women who aren't listed because they were too busy doing the grunt work of social change and not showing up at high profile events that grease the career ladder. Again, there is so much extraordinary about Elizabeth Warren, she is the single most knowledgable and capable policy wonk in public life since... well... both of the Clintons, and she is the best advocate for America's workers since Ralph Nader. But she is meritocrat to the bone, and people who think part of her persona isn't showboating are taken in sorely. She's free to advocate for the most drastic policy reforms precisely because she knows that the class for which she advocates would reject everything she'd like to give them and will never lift a finger to help her. The predominant reason for their animus is not because she's a woman, it's because they're convinced she's a class traitor, just as they thought Bill Clinton was before her. She left flyover America as soon as she could get out, decades before anybody knew who she was, and they're convinced she stepped over all of them to get to the top. I don't doubt the fact that she's a woman influenced many perceptions of her, but they certainly think no differently of hundreds of high achieving liberal men from Red America. Every person in Red America thinks they knew a person like Elizabeth Warren in every public school class, who knew they were smarter than the rest of them, hated everything about their classmates, did everything they could to get out and if given the chance would dynamite their hometowns.
But then there's our President: 1.9 College GPA, D in ROTC (seriously, how do you almost fail ROTC?), the rock bottom of his law school class. In so many ways, Joe Biden really is the archtypal white heteronormative male mediocrity who fell ass backwards into positions he never deserved, and he proved that in every decade of his career. But unlike Buttigieg or Warren, Biden clearly knows what loss is: losing a child and a wife in an accident and nearly losing his other two children in the same. Then losing another son and countless other periods while both of his other children dealt with addiction, during any of which he probably had to worry that he might be left with no children at all. Anyone who believes that obviously smarter and more accomplished meritocrats of long standing like Pete Buttigieg or Elizabeth Warren have dealt with anything like that level of deprivation or suffering needs to imagine losing the people who matter most to them, again and again. If you are not more moved by Biden's story than the other two, you have a stone heart and dubious character. Those among you who lean further left claim your choices are animated by empathy, but what animates you is an abstract idea of empathy, and you have as much knowledge of empathy as a libertarian budget slasher.
The American people made their choice not because Joe Biden was a non-threatening white guy, and they didn't make their choice because of any policy Biden advocated, they made their choice because America is in mourning. America made its choice because Biden understands implicitly that what loss is, he knows what dread is, he knows what it means to feel as though the very things which give meaning to every moment of your existence will be taken from you forever. Over and over again, he had reason to walk away from public service, to give something less than the last full measure of devotion, but he always returned because he knew that he could spare thousands, even millions from a fate whose awfulness he knew all too well. It is now clear that whether the candidate was Buttigieg or Warren or Sanders, had Biden not returned, Trump would still be President; 71 million Americans voted for him, and many millions more Americans would die.
Over the course of a lifetime, we all accumulate a long list of terrible faults and mistakes, and we hopefully do the best we can to square them with our consciences in good faith. Biden has shown a willingness to repent, to evolve, to learn, sympathize, take responsibility. There is no such thing as a President who leads by talent, there are only Presidents who lead by good faith, who place the common good as the highest priority, and will often make decisions that fly in the face of their previous ideas of what constitutes a great Presidency. Every President from Franklin Roosevelt to Lyndon Johnson was pulled left of their stated positions because at the time, American policy, soaked in the bloodiest tragedy the world had ever known, was animated by the good faith idea that an equivalent tragedy can never be allowed to happen, but that was before America was overrun with right-wing ideology that put a pause button on every single notion of progress for fifty years.
There has never been a true left-wing ideologue as President (though believe it or not, the closest was Woodrow Wilson, if he seems unforgivably reactionary now it's because what seems progressive is so fickle from generation to generation that today's leftist seems like tomorrow's right-wing dictator), but there have been a dozen or more right-wing ideologues, whom when faced with the obvious common good versus a simple-minded right-wing abstraction, always chose the simplistic abstraction.
Why does right-wing ideology have so much power in America? Two reasons.
1. American notions of democracy and capitalism were so wildly successful in comparison to the feudal/imperial monarchies which ran the world before us because compared to the European models, we were progress incarnate. Why, so conservaives reason, change a thing that works? Conveniently not realizing that because America had been so successful, we'd unwittingly changed everything about the world we ran, and we've now become reactionary by standing still while the world around us progressed.
2. The right-wing always has more power than the left. That's the nature of nearly every society on earth. The right-wing is, by definition, the establishment, and therefore will always have disproportionate power to what they deserve; not only over people's life-circumstances, but over their minds, and therefore any change at all to the average citizen will seem like radical change, and any notion of progress seems like extremism until it's enacted. The only modern societies where that wasn't true so far were in the Soviet sphere, and if you'd rather live there there's a lot more wrong than your politics.
My mother made a startling admission to me the other day. It wasn't startling because it was a mystery that she believed it, it was startling because she said it so boldly and pursued it so consciously in retrospect with everything she did. She told me that "I deliberately wanted none of you to be part of the elite class. I think they're corrupt. I think they're hypocrites. I don't think they have anybody's interests at heart but themselves." Part of this is politics, longtime readers here know that my Mom is a saint and I brook no disagreement on this, but just between you and I, dear reader, she does have some unsaintly beliefs about the world. But part of this is first hand experience.
By the time Mom was thirty, she was an economist one job away from reporting directly to the Mayor of Baltimore. She was a Phi Beta Kappa at Goucher, she interned on Capitol Hill, she may never have known just how smart she was, but she literally could have done anything at all yet decided she was happiest as a homemaker and a mother. Dad? PhD at UChicago, Pentagon funded scholarship to study Eastern European history in Romania right after the end of the Prague Spring. Both skipped two grades, both had bachelors degrees in Hebrew by the time they were sixteen, both grew up bilingual in English and Yiddish and both learned at least two other languages (Dad learned five more...). They literally could have the entire storehouse of every gift America offered its elite boomers, and yet by the mid-70s they elected to come back to Baltimore, get married, start a family and live their whole lives purely by the Jewish values with which they were raised, and they never looked back. When their ostensibly 'brilliant' oldest son was diagnosed with some of the severest learning and emotional conditions on earth, Dad told me they were in mourning, but it wasn't because of what their son wouldn't achieve, it was because the day to day difficulties of his life would be colossal, which is exactly what they've been.... Rather, dad told me that when he encountered a kid whom when very young literally seemed as though he might be a Mozart or Einstein, he dreaded the nightmare of going through the endless compromises they would have to make to their lives for the opportunities offered a son like that. Fortunately, they seem to have gotten that son's opposite.......
Pikesville MD, Jewish Baltimore, is practically the Millennial Meritocrat Capital of the Nation. All my close friends growing up, most of my acquaintances even, have long since relocated to DC or New York, where they climb a long ladder in the private or public sector whose top rung seems nowhere near as high as it did when we were eighteen. They are the American elite, and yet even the elite opportunities are not what they were. Gradually, the pool of American opportunity drains - first a million, then a hundred-thousand, then ten-thousand, then...
Like so many American promises, the promise of better lives from joining the American elite was never worth the paper on the deed we thought we read. It was a fiction. Left-wingers now tell us the meritocracy is just a fiction by which the white patriarchy perpetuates itself. Right-wingers now tell us that meritocracy is a fiction by which the public sector keeps a stranglehold on real individual achievement. The truth is simpler: the meritocracy is a fiction because nobody knows what real merit is. Are intelligence or talent merits in themselves? Maybe it's a merit to be kind and decent? But how do we measure kindness and decency in an era when the country can't even agree on what it means to be kind or decent?
Whatever the meritocracy is, two things are obviously true. One is that a meritocracy will exist in every time and place: everywhere, everywhen, some people will be at the top and some people will be at the bottom. The other is that the reasons for people falling into the top and bottom will be entirely arbitrary, and every new era will correctly find fault with how the last era rewards merit. It used to be a given that merit ought to be determined by birth, and we correctly think that's ludicrous, but before merit was determined by birth, merit was determined by the spoils of war. Which was preferable? One day, perhaps when intelligence and talent and even tact can be acquired with a simple pill, future generations will marvel that societies can build their future on the accidental characteristics of a person's genetic makeup.
The only solution, the solution by whose health we can tell any society anywhere, is how willing the elite meritocrats are to part with privileges that are very difficult to cast aside even with the best intentions. You can't simply give away privileges that were given to you, because that implies that you ever deserved them to begin with. The way to do it is to chip away at the elite level, policy meeting after policy meeting, committee after committee, report after report, and always knowing that at any moment, a bad faith actor can stymie fifty years of work. The world will not be saved by faith, but it will be saved by good faith, the trust that there are some smart people out there who care about you sufficiently that they're fighting the good fight for you. But they are not the showhorses, they are the workhorses, they are the people you barely if ever hear about, who stay in policy rooms and do not have ambitions of higher office which require the salesmanship on which their particular skill set is wasted. Leave the salesmanship for good policy to the Bidens and Roosevelts of the world (and the Sanderses. 2.5 GPA), because the Dukakises will inevitably be tripped up by the Bushes, and we will know that this is a more equal society not when the Buttigieges or Warrens become candidates, but when mediocre Biden-like equivalents from their demographics rise up from the middle of the pack to earn our trust through decency and shared struggle.
The point of the world is not to achieve in it, but to live in it, and to live in it means struggle in it. Whether true or not, the rest of America has the sense that our elite has not struggled, and no amount of good policy will ever convince them what their intuition tells them, especially if data shows their intuition is wrong, which it inevitably seems to.

Wednesday, February 3, 2021

Underrated Classical Musicians - Josef Suk

 I'll try to be careful not to make this another conductor post, but Kirill Petrenko performed Josef Suk again this week. I'm already reasonably confident that Petrenko's championing of Suk is going to go down into music history as one of the most consequential moments in orchestral performance history - as consequential as what Bernstein did for Mahler and Mackerras for Janacek. In each case, it's not like nobody knew the music beforehand, but these conductors took these figures who existed at the repertory fringes and brought them into the dead center.

Contra it's reputation, the Berlin Philharmonic is not the world's greatest orchestra, it is a near-perfect machine around which a slightly creepy cult forms that prefers mechanical awe to personal, human expression, but now that Petrenko is their director, they have their chance to be the orchestra their publicity machine always claimed they were.
Furtwangler was larger than life, a titan who gave performances of explosive vision we shall never hear again, but he had no understanding of the human side of life - his performances soar with ecstasy and explode apocalyptically, but laughter, tears, simple human pleasures, they are never to be found in his conception of music. Karajan displayed a perfect imitation of a musical mastery because he was a grotesque exaggeration of a conductor, a craftsman who excited without moving, lacking absolutely nothing in his musicianship except a soul. Furtwangler was not a Nazi in his core, just a bit of an upper-class twit with the leisure to believe in the priority of metaphysics while the real world crumbled, but listen Karajan's musicmaking. There is no way to hear that awesome harnessing of force and authority and not realize that this man was totalitarian to the marrow, because there is so clearly something evil sounding about the brute force of his music making. Abbado was precisely the opposite - so small-scale and low-key that the passion of Furtwangler was by the 1990s almost completely absent. When the music called for intimacy, Abbado was magnificent, but he expended herculean effort to avoid any semblance of grandiloquence. Rattle is perhaps the greatest conductor of music written after 1900 who ever lived, and yet amid so much 19th century tradition he sounded adrift, as though he had no idea what to do amid a palate of tradition he's spent his career trying to cleanse.
And then there is Petrenko, whom we still barely know, but at least at the moment seems simultaneously a perfect conducting machine like Karajan, an ecstatic like Furtwangler, and perhaps also a breathing human like Abbado. I will be the only person in the world who says this, but for the first time, a true master has stepped up to the Berlin Philharmonic podium, and we have no idea yet of the limitless potential when an infinite maestro steps in front of the most infinitely talented musicians in Europe whose potential has still never truly been harnessed.
What makes Petrenko so masterful is that he is 'one of us', ten years ago, just an underrated C-lister who would probably be lucky to get a semi-major radio orchestra appointment by his sixties because he clearly cared more about music than building a career. And now, for once, musical master gets a job worthy of him.
Anyway, that's so much more than enough of that, so what makes Josef Suk such a revelation?
If a a person with no musical sense told you dryly that a Czech composer like Suk was born twenty years after a Czech composer like Janacek, you'd rightly tell that person to shut up because they had no idea what they were talking about. And yet it's absolutely true. Suk was not a conservative, but he was a musical moderate educated impeccably by Dvorak, who became his father-in-law. He was formed by an era when Brahms and Tchaikovsky were still alive and Suk began his career writing in that manner.
Are the early works masterpieces? Well, yes and no. They're beautiful pieces of music by a brilliant young musician who so idolizes his teacher that he can't help but write his teacher's music. Sure, there's plenty of Suk in Fairy Tale and the Serenade for Strings, in some passages they even exceed the inspiration of similar pieces. The melodies in Suk's Serenade for Strings are even more fecund and prolific than in Dvorak's and Tchaikovsky's, but it is an obvious successor work to Dvorak's still gorgeous Serenade for Strings. You can hear Dvorak's fingerprints all over the Fairy Tale - the percolating nature effects, the aching woodwind melodies, the alternately gruff and swooning string writing, the overwhelming brass chorales. When somebody says that a piece of music sounds like Dvorak, virtually every classical music lover can picture a Dvorak piece in their head. After hearing such a piece, you still cannot picture a work by Suk.
The Suk of the large canvas, the Suk too few of us outside the Czech Republic know and love, came later after colossal personal tragedy - the death of both Dvorak and Suk's wife within a month of one another. Of course the music of later works are luxuriantly orchestrated but more importantly: it's introspective to a fault. Occasionally it has the bonhomie of Dvorak's Slavonic Dances, but that kind of over the top rollicking nearly disappears from later pieces as far more original ideas take Dvorak's place in Suk's creativity. Yes, there's no question, Suk is a romantic, not a modernist. He's a romantic of a temperament so yearning that it's perhaps left romanticism behind, it's expressionism.
When people ask whom Suk sounds like, most Suk lovers say the exact same thing. If you love Mahler, you'll love Suk. But at least in my opinion, Mahler and Suk are nothing alike. Mahler is himself, like Janacek and Dvorak only still moreso, an unrepeatable musical event. No other composer else has the diversity of expressive modes to ever be mistaken for him. Even the composers most influenced by him sound nothing like him. No, the composer closest in spirit to Suk is quite a bit more surprising.
One could almost say that Suk bears the same relationship to Dvorak as no less a figure than his exact contemporary, Arnold Schoenberg, does to Dvorak's closest musical friend, Johannes Brahms. Suk is the next logical step from Dvorak, but after Dvorak's death in 1904, Suk puts Dvorak's musical language through so drastic a musical refraction that one might almost call it Schoenbergian.
Not the Schoenberg, mind you, of the atonal and serial periods. Rather who wrote hyper-expressive chromaticism until 1909, and yet Suk carried the language of the young Schoenberg right up to the end of his compositional career around 1930. Like many great composers, if not quite the singularly highest level of musical genius, Suk spent his whole mature career mining the same basic musical language, and that musical language was a close cousin to the music of the young Schoenberg: the Schoenberg of the Gurrelieder and Verklärte Nacht and Pelleas und Melisande and the First Chamber Symphony, the Schoenberg of the period before he discovered atonality. Or of the Anton von Webern of Im Sommerwind and the Passacaglia. In other words, romanticism frozen in time at the moment of the absolute maximum expression music has ever been able to withstand before becoming so expressively fraught that it cannot be held together by traditional harmony, rhythm, and texture.
Josef Suk was a composer of the 1900s, not the century but the decade, a composer of the alternate twentieth century that never came of age because it grew organically out of the nineteenth. At the peak of Suk's creativity, he was still barely thirty years old and he properly belongs to a generation of composers ten years older than him like Strauss, Elgar, Sibelius, Mahler... Janacek was born in 1854, but he is truly a composer of the 1920s, and he belongs to a generation of musicians thirty or forty years younger than he: Bartok, Berg, Webern, Prokofiev, Hindemith - and if anything, Stravinsky and Schoenberg and Ives can be considered a generation older than Janacek! For forty years, Janacek was just another competent Czech composer, occasionally inspired, but much too rebellious for his creativity to come unleashed within the strictures of the nineteenth century. But after a whole generation of potential great artists lay strewn upon the battlefields of the Somme and Tannenberg and Verdun and all the multi-fielded offensives, the longevity of this composer as old as Brahms's First Piano Trio let him live until a much more rebellious era who lived through humanity's darkest chapters could accommodate his defiant spirit.
Life is what happens when you're making other plans, but had the past century proceeded as planned, the arts would have changed much more slowly. And just as classical music may never have been supplanted by what we therefore call more 'popular' genres, and classical music lovers, who would probably be much more numerous, would probably listen to Josef Suk rather than Janacek, Nikolai Medtner rather than Stravinsky, Zoltan Kodaly rather than Bartok... All of these supposedly second-rank composers wrote excellent music. Is it cosmic music of the type you get from titans like Beethoven and Wagner? Well, is Brahms's? Is Faure's? Is Dvorak's? Composers like Suk and Kodaly were trained in the much more bourgeois late 19th century, where the rules of what constituted great art were much much stricter. and by the standards of their predecessors, they weren't even conservative. Compare Medtner to real Russian conservatives of their generation like Rachmaninov or Glazunov - even if Medtner's innovations are dwarved by Scriabin's, Medtner is clearly much more daring; harmonically, melodically, coloristically... So is it with Suk.
By the standards of their predecessors, all these would-be-20th century masters did things their forebearers wouldn't dare. All they lacked was the desire to turn all the rules upside down. Perhaps they lacked that bold rebelliousness of spirit you get from Stravinsky and Janacek, but on the other hand, the love which so-called classical music engendered among the public never recovered from that radical break. Are we composers and music historians and journalists, the musical 'elite' so we fancy ourselves, so sure that Janacek and Stravinsky are objectively better than Suk and Medtner? Or have our values, our ideology, our contempt for the musically lazy, pulled the wool over our eyes? We had the love of millions, and little by little, we allowed the disconnect between composers and audience tastes to grow larger with every passing decade of the 20th century. We're now one-fifth through the twenty-first, and audiences of the new generations barely even remember we're here. Is it possible that perhaps we've waged an artistic war for a century that was never won because it was in the service of a bad cause?
By the standards of anybody today but certain octogenarians, even Stravinsky and Bartok are not particularly radical music, even Schoenberg seems relatively accessible next to Xenakis and Elliott Carter. That is not the point. The point is that by insisting upon by making an aesthetic religion out of modernity, probably at least as much in visual art as in music and nearly as much in literature, we gradually exiled an enormous segment of the audience for classical music, and the result is that the boldest musical spirits of this generation: our Bartok's and Stravinsky's, can, comparatively speaking, barely get a hearing. In the long run, this elevation of the revolutionary over the reformative did not even benefit the revolutionaries!
The story of Josef Suk is the story of the aesthetic moderate, who has no champion because he fits no neat agenda, and adjusted himself like a magpie to the various musical influences of his era. Is he fully the equal of Dvorak or Janacek? Well... no. Dvorak and Janacek were unrepeatable musical events, stars who burned at the brightest possible flame who reinvented themselves time after time to fit the requirements of their eras, their commissions, and their performers. But if Edward Elgar and Carl Nielsen, so particular to the ethos of their times and places, can be considered among the great composers of all time - and deservedly, so can Josef Suk. If the unique musical language of Nielsen can be understood beyond the boundaries of border and language, so can Josef Suk. And if musical conservatives like Brahms and Tchaikovsky and even Bach and can force us to reconsider what's conservative and what's progressive, so can Josef Suk. In nearly any other small nation, the quality of Suk's music would make him stand tall as their greatest composer. He had the good and bad luck of being born in a country and an era with so many great composers that you had to be careful not to step on them. He embodied his era's contradictions, a 19th century gentleman forced prematurely to confront the century of death. It spurred him prematurely into a new era, and caused him no end of nostalgia for the world to which he could not go back. Suk received a very dark glimpse of the future, so dark that by the 1930s he simply laid down his pen - exactly as Elgar and Sibelius did, who found the truths of this new era just too terrible to keep telling them....
This work, my favorite of Suk's, A Summer Tale, is one of the deepest works in the orchestral repertoire. Like Strauss's Alpensinfonie, it tells a day in the life of nature. In Suk's case, not only a day in the life of nature, both its peace and its violence, but also perhaps an entire life cycle, not in the sense of birth to death, but in life's emotional experience - ecstacy and agony, comedy and tragedy, wit and vulgarity. as meaningful as any Mahler symphony. Simply look at some of the movement titles and try to tell yourself that this is not a musician who did not tie deep experience of music to deep experience of life: "Voices of Life and Consolation", "In the Power of Phantoms", and ending with a movement simply called "Night".
And if nothing else, I defy anyone listen to the central movement, "Blind Musicians", with it's duet of English horns accompanied by harp, and not experience some of the most beautiful, evocative music ever written.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrZu52g406chttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lrZu52g406c

Tuesday, February 2, 2021

Underrated Classical Musicians: Clement Janequin

 I started writing about Clement Janequin only to realize I wrote about him here almost exactly a year ago. While re-reading Testaments Betrayed by Milan Kundera and wondering how I never actually read or finished all the books he talks about, he made an interesting observation that Clement Janequin was an almost exact contemporary of Rabelais, and notes a Rabelaisian kinship. It's difficult not to hear the larger-than-life roistering, the bizarreness, the carrying vulgarity into the art of the sublime, a world of fantasy where literally anything at all is possible. So as I said before, one can see Janequin as a musical Rabelais, if one squints....

Here's what I wrote last year:
From the much longer era of history when violent chaos was omnipresent and the high organization of war was seen as the less squalid option, La Guerre, also sometimes called La Bataille, gives us an onomatopoetic experience of war in the form of a part-song, or chauson.
Clement Janequin specifically comes to us from the same era of French history as Rabelais, and therefore also of Martin Luther and the original break into the Protestant-Catholic wars of the 16th century, which, like World War I, groups went into with a crazy optimism about their easy resolution - at the end of this piece comes the inevitable shouts of 'VICTOIRE!'. If one squints one's ears, one can hear it as a kind musical Rabelaisian equivalent, everything is fun, and perhaps everything is a little cruel too - perhaps such was the nature of life in the earlier eras of French history, which were the polar opposite of the refined French culture we know of so well. Every consonant in this piece does double duty, not only giving the meaning of the words themselves but also meant to evoke the sounds of battle. Janequin was the master of this kind of onomatopoetic chauson, there are others we will probably feature, which evoke the sounds of bird calls and the hunt.
Though he lived into his seventies, Clement Janequin was practically a rock star in his day, demand was so high for these onomatopoetic part-songs that he published five volumes of them. He never took any musical post for too long, and one can only speculate as to why, but near the end of his life, he was named the 'Composer Ordinary' to King Henri II, only the second composer to ever achieve such a status in the French court.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mifKSYClA6E 

Monday, February 1, 2021

Tale 2 - Complete



Dearest Lavan,


Let me start with the deepest expression of gratitude for taking Yaakov into business. You can’t possibly know the nakhes I get in reading letters from Yaakov about his success. I know how much of a risk it was to bet on a free spirit who hadn’t found himself in his late seventies getting his act together; but even if no one else saw Yaakov’s promise, I knew you couldn’t have picked a better mensch. In case I didn’t make it clear at the wedding, you diffused a family predicament somewhat like what happened between Lot and Abba Betuel when we were kids, so I knew that when you saw Yaakov you could guess the general idea of what brought him to you before he even told you. I have nothing but gratitude for how you brought Yaakov into the House of Terakh as an untried associate. I’ve worried for years that you wouldn’t see what I see in him, and I worry that his father never has. 


This makes it doubly unfortunate that I have to speak to you unpleasantly again, but the fact remains that you gave my son permission to marry Rokhel, you knew that Rokhel was the daughter he wanted to marry, and Yaakov swears that all the contracts he signed with you said ‘Rokhel’, not ‘Leyah’. So why then did you give him a different bride than the one he earned? I know I told you at the wedding how unfair a trick you pulled on Yaakov in front of his hundred-twenty year old mother - a mother who’d journeyed for six months just to kvell over her son marrying the love of his life; and I understand I’m an outsider to your situation, but I feel the need to re-emphasize how cruel it was. 


Yitzhak’s old and blind. We have no family member in Canaan of proper bloodline to run the corporation but Esav, a son with so much seykhel he sold his birthright for a bowl of soup. He put half our money into a huge investment hinging on getting a hunt-for-profit license which whose credit check may not even pass. I had Eliezer-ibn-Eliezer draw up a report. HIs projections showed that big game has a high short-term yield but that the hunting bubble could pop very soon. 


I’m so happy Yaakov’s employment worked out as it has, but we need Yaakov to return as soon as possible to run our organization, and he won’t return without Rokhel as his wife. You obviously lied to Yaakov because you find him valuable, but please, I’m begging you, let him marry Rokhel so we can bring him and his family back to his old mother before she dies.


Barukh Hashem and much love, 


Rivka 


------------------------


Dearest Rivka...


It’s been nearly 90 years since you left for Canaan and I still have to remind you to stay out of my business. This is why you never got married until you were 40! I don’t know why you need Yaakov to return so badly. You proudly told me at the wedding how influential you are in House Avraham and your ideas to improve in their production, if this meshuggeh idea for two entries in the bookkeeping is so successful, why do you need Yaakov? 


So since you claim you’re an accomplished person of business, I’ll explain all this to you businessman to businessman, though I imagine this is a station you’ve earned completely by marriage. I’ll also explain this situation parent to parent, which you’ve clearly done an exemplary job at even if you obviously play favorites. 


I don’t know why you or Yaakov think an eighty-four year old man has any business marrying a girl who’s barely 19, let alone the twelve-year-old she was when Yaakov first kissed her at the well when he was high on hash. Yaakov swore he thought she was at least ten years older, but even if she were 22, what the hell is a seventy-seven year old doing proposing to someone more than half a century his junior? I thought I was doing the right thing by separating them and that you’d support me, but please understand, this compromise is win/win for everybody.


Maybe you haven’t read the tablets for the last half century but just in case you forgot, the Sumerian Empire just collapsed and it almost killed my whole family and millions more. Let’s also not forget that the whole mess started over that dispute Avraham got mixed up in over the Valley of Siddim. 


Yaakov and I just spent the last seven years moving the family out of Ur and re-establishing ourselves in Kharan, An & Enlil and Enki be praised. It’s a miracle we’re alive and we have entirely Yaakov to thank, but neither of us have made any profit by his years with the House of Terakh, and if he wants to make real money, he needs to stay another seven years. 


Without whatever angels bless your son, there’d be no Terakh House anymore, so in spite of his questionable taste in women, the House of Terakh loves Yaakov. He’s a sheep broker with skill by the terracubit, and has it in him to be a visionary in our fields. Maybe a mensch like Yaakov could have found himself sooner if his mother disciplined him more, but he’s exactly the kind of trail-smart entrepreneur that’s indispensable to Terakh House’s survival. 


What would Yaakov do in Canaan anyway? It took so much work to get him out of that desert where the only body of water is that dead sea which is more dehydrating than the sand. How long would Yaakov stay if he ever came back? Even a prodigy son like Yaakov would be as helpless as Esav against drought. I guarantee that either Yaakov or his kids will end up in Egypt where there are growth fields and jobs.  


And you don’t even need Yaakov! In spite of how badly you speak of him, Esav is thriving. I’ve seen your financial statements. Your endowment increases 18% every lunar year, even from what it was when “Yitzhak” was the boss. Your livestock dividend expands every quarter and Esav diversified a whole second arm of your securities by moving House Avraham into big game, where the real money is.  There’s nothing that Yaakov can do in Khevron that Esav can’t, and what would Yaakov do for House Avraham that he doesn’t do here on a larger scale? 



Incidentally, it was very tactful of you to come to the wedding without your husband, since the whole party would have recognized your husband as Yishmael, who suspiciously disappeared from the House of Terakh eighty years ago, fifty years after he suspiciously came to us from the House of Avraham. It was clear from the way you spoke about “Yitzhak” that you two are having trouble.


As for Leyah, whenever you meet her again, you’ll understand. She’s lovely in every way, and will be such a better wife and mother than Rokhel. Yaakov is his grandfather’s grandson in so many ways who never stops dreaming extravagantly, but Leyah will talk him down from those heights he always sees. She’s pragmatic, she’s grounded, never makes a fuss, and OK, she has lots of pockmarks from when she had staphylococcus, but you didn’t see what she went through. Before the illness she was just as captivating as Rokhel, but she has scars on every parasa of her body for the rest of her life. When she was sick she was in excruciating pain from the boils and couldn’t leave bed for a year; but she never complained, never screamed, always apologized for the inconvenience, and always reminded Rokhel about her incomplete textile weaving - not that Rokhel ever finished... It’s a miracle Leyah’s alive. She always had the most beautiful eyes in the world and no boil could ever take them away. Not once has this daughter of mine ever had a suitor, but she has a right to a family as much as Rokhel, and deserves it much more. Even if Yaakov is not in love with her, they’ve always been friendly and she clearly has feelings for him. It will be a great marriage and she will create the best family for him. Who needs to love their spouse?


Rokhel, on the other hand, is unmistakably beautiful, but she’s troublesome and reckless, has a terrible temper, bears false witness all the time, and I honestly think she’s a kleptomaniac. She told me her suitors left because they saw how in love she was with Yaakov, but she bribed multiple suitors to leave by offering them a night with her handmaid, Bilhah, who to be perfectly honest is my illegitimate daughter. It will be a scandal if people ever found out that one daughter of mine is pimping another, even an illegitimate one. Let’s hope that Rokhel will calm down, but Yaakov has no idea the whirlwind he reaps if they marry. 


But here’s the real reason I had to prevent the marriage, which Yaakov doesn’t know. Hopefully my sharing this secret will convince you that I’m an honest marriage broker, because if I didn’t tell the truth until now it was best for everyone. This secret must stay between us on the pain of enmity between our houses. I’m sorry to threaten something extreme, but this secret is just that horrible. 


Of course, the official record is that Rokhel is still pure, but the truth is that my furrier bondsman got her pregnant. He seduced her by making her a really tacky coat. Rokhel, thinking of no consequence, surrendered her virginity and brought shame on our house. I had no choice but to order our healer to abort the baby. He warned me that after taking the potion Rokhel wouldn’t have children for another thirty-three years. Rokhel doesn’t know, Yaakov doesn’t know, I don’t want them to ever find out, and on pain of war between our houses you can never tell them. 


So instead I put Yaakov on a second, more lucrative contract. Let’s all give this another seven years. Yaakov will calm down when he has kids and realizes what a great wife Leyah is and hopefully her younger sister will stop being a korveh. If Yaakov still wants Rokhel, Rokhel will, An-willing, calm down and they can attempt that kind of romantic marriage the Jubalians always sing about. Meanwhile, Leyah will be the real wife. 


Aside from everything else, the coat was a monstrosity, it has… well… it has a lot of colors.... I can’t even give it to another tribe as a gift. 


An & Enlil and Enki be praised and all my love,


Lavan


-------------


Dearest Lavan…….

Thank you so much for inviting me to the wedding of Yaakov and Rokhel, for as long ago as it should have happened, it really was lovely. The Arabian caterer couldn’t have been more understanding about my dietary restrictions, and I could not believe how beautiful the Babylonian floral arrangements were, but nothing could have been more beautiful than Rokhel. Was her dress Trojan?


I wish I could write seven letters to you kvelling about the wedding but unfortunately i have to speak to you again because of something Yaakov showed me while I was at the wedding. My son showed me ten cuneiform invoices demonstrating you’ve paid him one-third his full earnings. He tells me that every time he raises a new cattle herd, he creates much better herds than yours, only for you to pull rank and commandeer his better-fed herd just before the harvest in exchange for the drek herds you raise. Whatever the state of the herds you give Yaakov, he always creates more good herds only for you to steal his herds again. Please understand, none of this is meant as a criticism of your skill as a cattle trader, Yaakov just thinks you’re saving money by starving the animals - what shepherds do to their animals in private is their own affair. 


Lavan, it’s bad enough you cheated Yaakov on his wedding, but you begged Yaakov to stay with your firm because of the better professional opportunities, only for you to steal his business. Every time you steal merchandise from him, he creates better profits out of the bopkes you hand him, only for you to leave him with bopkes again. 


All Yaakov wants is to return with his family to Canaan and make an honest living. I know we’ve always had occasional trouble Lavan, but I honestly never thought you were a liar or a gonif. Please show me you’re the righteous person I always knew was in you. 


Baruch Hashem and Love….


Rivka


---------


Dearest Rivka……….


I deserve better from you. You know perfectly well that on the morning Rokhel found Yaakov he’d smoked so much hash that he was literally seeing angels walking up and down a ladder. Now, when he’s nearly ninety, he finally gets his act together and absorbs invaluable corporate experience, and that’s not enough? You remember Dad, do you really think Abba Betuel was any different with me than I am with Yaakov? 


I know you love your son, but you have another son whose scribe keeps writing me about how you treat him.  Esav is doing better than ever for House Avraham, but after what they wrote me it’s a little tiresome to read you accuse me again of dishonesty. That birthright story was really shocking. Esav offered Yaakov his birthright in exchange for a bowl of soup as a joke, and once Yaakov jokingly took it, he threatened to burn it rather than give it back; and when you heard about it, you not only didn’t demand Yaakov return it to its rightful owner, you deliberately tricked ‘Yitzhak’ into giving Yaakov the Blessing too.


Do I really have to remind you that our firm’s ‘tricks’ are the reason you have any sons at all? You’re the one who wanted to marry that crazy side of the family which claims they’re ‘chosen’ by a god they never see, cuts the foreskin off its babies but doesn’t sacrifice them, and thinks themselves so morally superior to the rest of the world that they whore out their wives and expel their concubines (and don’t think all that ‘explulsion’ in the House of Avraham is over just because your meshuggeh father-in-law is dead). How many of your grandchildren will even be able to stay in Canaan? Your side of the family is so fucked up that your favorite son had to run away to save his life. Fortunately he had a rich uncle to employ him,  though apparently if he’s rich he has no problems at all… 


Please understand, the head of the house always gets the plumb herds, that’s the way it’s always been; you know that very well, but what you might not understand is how difficult things still are. Whatever luxury we knew in the old days of Ur, An & Enlil and Enki be praised, that’s over now. We came to this new country with nothing, and over fifteen years we built a successful multi-empire syndicate that still isn’t half the organization we had in Sumeria, which I shouldn’t need to remind you was liquidated due to anti-semitic discrimination. 


I’m just trying to keep expenses low, and as head of Terakh House, if I didn’t take the best shares, Yaakov’s life would be threatened. You never met my son, I discipline him as best you can a schnorrer, but he runs with a very bad crowd of Assyrians. If I let Yaakov keep the best herds, what defense would Yaakov have if my son decides Yaakov’s a threat to the inheritance Boer refuses to work for? Yaakov isn’t a hunter-gatherer like his brother, and even if Boer is as unathletic as the rest of us, his friends are not, and any one of them would make quick work of your son. So please understand, if we made business decisions on the basis of all your womanish worries, we’d all have died a hundred years ago


Rivka, please understand, I love you, I love Yaakov, I love Leyah and Rokhel, even if Rokhel is a hur…, and I want to see them all thrive. I’m doing what I think is best for us all, especially Yaakov, and very soon he can choose whether to be head of House Terakh or House Avraham. 


So as a show of good faith, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Kharan’s annual livestock fair is in half a year. In six months we’ll have more goats and sheep than any of us know what to do with. Yaakov will get all the black ones, all the spotted and speckled ones, and I’ll just take the pure white. 


Your unappreciated brother who loves you, An & Enlil and Enki be praised,


Lavan


-----------


Dearest Lavan………….


I really can’t believe I have to do this yet again. I read this new promise to Yaakov with great happiness, it was really was amazingly generous, but I just got a letter from Yaakov saying that you removed all the non-white livestock and herded it a three days journey away so Yaakov couldn’t find it. If your word was a stick you couldn’t lean on it. 


Is Esav paying you to fercockt all this? 


Rivka


-----------


Dearest Rivka…………………………………….


I’d say I’m shocked by your tone but that’s obviously untrue. As I said, if my son ever saw that Yaakov keeps the best herds, what defense would Yaakov have if Boer decides I gave Yaakov the inheritance Boer believes is his by natural right? 


Well, Boer heard about our arrangement just hours after I sent the letter. If I respect Yaakov’s safety and his children’s, if I appreciate my own, I had to send the cattle away and stop Yaakov from taking them. 


And even if that’s what I did, Yaakov has me to thank for no danger coming to him or his family. Neither of us would be in any danger had he trusted I’ll compensate him properly as soon as possible, but instead he stayed up all night painting spots on the remaining livestock and I legally had let him keep them. Ever since, my son yells at me every day about how I let Yaakov get richer than we are and how I’m cheating him out of his inheritance. Yaakov and I both live every day in fear that Boer will get Assyrians involved in our business dispute. The Mesopotamian police can only protect us so much. 


The Assyrian Empire gets closer and closer, and you have no idea what they’re like. We have to avoid getting involved with them. I’ve seen Assyrians slice off a man’s hands, feet, ears, nose, then make him watch as they throw his wife off a high tower. I’ve seen them behead a child, flay alive his brother, then roast a third brother over a fire. In wartime they burn cities to the ground. In peacetime Assyrian cities beat criminals and whip debtors to death, pull out their tongues, gouge out their eyes, impale, behead, make them drink poison, burn children in front of their parents, and not as a sacrifice! Maybe you don’t believe me, but one day they’ll come for Canaan too and you’ll understand. 


I don’t expect gratitude, but you owe me appreciation. Every decision I make is to protect the House of Terakh, in which Yaakov is the most important member. Yaakov no longer wants to be head of Terakh House, and that’s a shame for us all, but if he ever does again he’d immediately see that it’s no easier for him to honor vows and covenants than it was for me


All my love which you don’t currently deserve, but I miss the better times in Ur, An & Enlil and Enki be praised,


Lavan


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Dear Lavan….


How could you not tell me that my son was living in this kind of danger every day for twenty years? Are you exaggerating or have you deliberately kept secret what kind of neighborhood you live in? You had us believe you were running a respectable business, but now you tell me you’re associating with lowlives like the backgammon scum you hustled in Zaydie Nakhor’s barn! 


For our whole lives, you told me I have no mind for business because I’m a woman, and for our whole lives I’ve watched you senselessly put our family’s lives in danger just so you could make a profit. First I watched you manipulate your position as heir, your tenure as head of the house, and your maleness to get away with lie after lie. What the point of being President of the House of Terakh if you run the House just for the good of yourself? Even when we were thirteen, I knew this is how you would run things. Maybe you’re right, maybe a woman would run a business differently. Maybe one day, the House of Avraham will let a woman run the organization and do a superior job to men like you. 


The time has come and long since passed for Yaakov to come back to Canaan. Yitzhak dropped into a coma the day after Esav’s wedding and is unlikely to wake up; so with Yaakov gone and Yitzhak incapacitated, I’m Vice-President of the House of Avraham. As you know, I have the authority to order Yaakov’s return without Esav’s permission. By my authority, Yaakov must return to his real household immediately so he can take his Birthright and run the house of his grandfather, which he should have done twenty years ago. 


Rivka


---------


Dear Lavan, 


As I’m sure you recognize by the time you read this letter, Yaakov and his family are well on their way to Canaan. Within seven days of sending my last letter I realized we had no alternative to escorting Yaakov home ourselves, even if it means Yaakov fleeing under cover of night with your daughters and grandchildren and all their worldly goods (such as you let them have any...). I knew you’d never show Yaakov my order and would bear false witness to keep his service forever, so I immediately sent Eliezer-ibn-Eliezer to deliver an official command of homecoming.


I’m deeply unhappy relations between our houses came to this. I wish there were another way, but you’ve become such a danger to the family’s security. There was no other choice, and once I told Esav everything, he agreed. 


I only wish you the best of luck, which I’m sure you’ll always have, and for your household to be fruitful and multiply. B’Ezrat Hashem such luck we all will have, whether in this world or the next. In the meantime, I reluctantly send you my deepest love,


Rivka


---------


Dear Rivka,


I discovered Yaakov left with his family about an hour after they abandoned us. No doubt you won’t believe me when I tell you that I’d already decided to let them go and would have given them my full blessing the next morning. You wouldn’t be able to accuse me of delaying them for a moment if Rokhel, whom Yaakov taught everything about your house’s god, hadn’t stockpiled hoards of gods from my own collection. Knowing the statues would easily be discovered and how much they would offend you and Yaakov, I immediately sent for my best horses to catch up with them, took my gods back and said a swift goodbye to my family that I love dearly in the best and most forgiving way. Rokhel is now your problem, a true Jewish Arabian Princess.


It’s made me unhappy to read you taking offense at my treatment of Yaakov so many times, but I repeat, all that I’ve done was for our family’s good. You have the luxury of viewing our situation from 650 miles’ distance. In my position, you’d make no decision differently and you can’t possibly tell me that I’ve withheld the dangers of our situation because I know I’ve sent decades of letters to you about it. Whether it was about our exodus from Ur to Kharan or the dangers of having Assyrian clients and tenants, there’s nothing I’ve kept from you. You just didn’t have eyes to see or ears to hear anything about it. Nothing here in Mesopotamia is more dangerous than Sumeria ever was, or Canaan is, An & Enlil and Enki be praised. If I spared you the explicit details, it’s because I know how you worry about Yaakov, but this is why I’ve constantly advised you you’re not a person of business. You never understood the risks, you never wanted to understand, and if you did, you’d never sleep. 


You’re absolutely right, I’ve dismissed you for being a woman for a century, and it wasn’t right of me. I swear before Divine An that I repent and plead both An’s mercy and yours; but I do know you Rivka, and whether it has anything to do with your womanhood, I know that even if you had the kishkes for running a business, being a woman would make running a family house much more labor for you than it ever was for me - and it’s always plenty. You were always smart, and being smart is helpful in business, but what you really need is chutzpah of steel - which hasn’t been invented yet, but you know what I mean. You wouldn’t just spend the last century avoiding fraud, you’d spend it avoiding assassins who know that a woman as a  household head endangers every male power in the world. You’d have to kill every powerful man before they kill you, because your death would be the example to every woman who dreamed as passionately as you did for a world with justice. 


But to be perfectly honest, in recent years, my opinion of you changed drastically. What changed it was reading how you defrauded your own son, and I don’t know which I’d worry about more: whether you don’t have any killer instinct, or whether you have too much. Maybe you could have been the woman with the kishkes to succeed in a man’s world, but how can any person who kills that many people on the hope of creating a more just world be righteous?


And so, if “Yitzhak” is in a coma, there’s no sense in longer keeping from you my deepest secret. If I’d ever told you this information before now you’d have immediately told Yaakov, and he’d either leave or see through the lesson I tried so hard to teach.


Three days before Yaakov arrived at my well, high on hash if you recall, I got a letter from Yitzhak/Yishmael about which he clearly never told you. He ordered me to burn it immediately after reading, but I remember every word.


The original lie which gave Yitzhak/Yishmael his lifelong wealth was almost a century ago, but he felt shame at living Yitzhak’s life every day which only grew with every decade; and during your family’s more recent conflicts, so great was the shame that his head was stricken by a horrible voice; not a pleasant, blessed voice like An who kept company with his father, but a screeching, horrible voice like Nergal’s who every day pierced his skull and slit his flesh; a voice who never stopped telling Yitzhak/Yishmael that deception is built into the House of Avraham’s entire future; claiming your house’s idea of only one god who rules over all creation will always be tarnished with an original sin of dishonesty that will repeat itself from generation to generation for as long as the House of Avraham exists.


To be perfectly honest, I always thought the idea was a shandeh. Living is hard enough without convincing people they’ll live more honestly if they believe in a god who controls everything, reads all their thoughts, and follows them everywhere. I know he thinks the idea will redeem the world and make people act more decently, but it’s going to put every mind who believes it into a prison. It will only make them suffer more, tell more lies, be more violent, more covetous. If it ever caught on it could turn the whole world into meshuggeners like Avraham.  


When Yitzhak/Yishmael saw how easily you decided to lie when you second-guessed your husband’s judgement, and how quickly Yaakov agreed to conspire with you, your husband decided he had proof that the voice was absolutely right, and eventually the voice sent him to a permanent sleep.


Yitzhak/Yishmael saw that Esav was a slow learner, but was good natured and always did the right thing. When Esav handed Yaakov his Birthright, as a joke, Yaakov immediately claimed Esav’s joke was a serious exchange and threatened to throw the document into the fire rather than return it, then he hid it in a place which only he knew. When Yitzhak/Yishmael heard what Yaakov did, he saw that the voice’s suspicion was true; however shrewd and charming, Yaakov was dishonorable and false-hearted. 


And you not only believed Yaakov, you helped the son you love more steal the blessings and possessions of the son you love less! That was your plan, Rivka, not Yaakov’s. Thanks to you, Yaakov is the designated heir and there’s no way for Esav or Yitzhak/Yishmael to reverse the effects of your betrayal, but it was Esav, not Yaakov, who ran the House of Avraham brilliantly for twenty years, and the disasters you predicted for Esav’s period as household head never materialized. 


What Yaakov required, Yitzhak/Yishmael wrote to me, with underlining, was brutal discipline. According to your husband, Yaakov’s dishonesty was due to his mother spoiling him. You insisted that Yaakov was not cut out for challenging work, you made sure he got easy jobs shepherding the herds while Esav hunted large animals in the desert, going without food and sometimes water for days, endangering his survival against savage beasts. Whether Esav has any brains, he has the seykhel for business, he has the kishkes, and he has the… 


So if Esav was angry enough to say he wanted to murder Yaakov a few minutes after learning that his own brother and mother betrayed him, he soon realized he didn’t mean it; and even if he did mean it at the moment he said so, he long since repented his words and told me he regrets them every day. 


If you were paying attention, you’d see that Esav’s long since forgiven his brother and, more obviously, forgiven you. His scribe wrote me that Yaakov will be welcome at a surprise celebration with hundreds of Hittite guests. Esav forgave both you and Yaakov, but neither of you have forgiven me for my deceptions, deceptions that are obviously on a level more trivial than your own betrayal of your son and husband. 


And even so, when I heard everything that Yaakov did, I appreciated straight away that this is a guy with the chutzpah to be a great businessman, but he needed to learn business’s risks, he needed to accept the price of success, he needed to understand exactly what it means to be a cattle trader and endure all the humiliations of apprenticeship just like I did. Being a boss is no easier than being an associate. A good head of the house still carries the heavy stones by himself, still picks the weeds with the bondsmen, still gets on his knees to wash the sheds; he cleans sheep drek from the backside wool, his hands have bloody scabs from plucking the chickens, this is the way Abba learned, this is the way Zaydie learned, the way apprenticeship is always done and I guarantee it was much more ruthless in the past. 


I don’t expect to be thanked, but Esav assured me Yaakov will return a hero. Esav is nearly 100, claims he has enough savings and wants nothing more than to take a cruise down the Nile. Even if Esav stays in Canaan, you’ll have two sons near home who can run the House of Avraham brilliantly and make a living that keeps your descendents out of the slave house forever. Meanwhile, the House of Terakh has no capable heir yet, and even at the age of a hundred thirty, I can’t retire. You can’t possibly know what a burden it is to work as hard at one-hundred-thirty as you did at thirty and there are no words for my exhaustion. At times I even believe I’m hearing the voice Avraham heard all those years ago….


An & Enlil and Enki be praised, all my love, and your welcome, 


Lavan