I have a slight stationery addiction. A few days ago I cleaned out a nightstand to use as a dedicated storage unit for my collection of notebooks, letter pads, cards, pens, stickers, etc. because it’s gotten to the point that they are in piles and boxes all over the place. I pledged not to buy any more stationery for a while.
…But then today I found myself in an Asian stationery shop and I was able to resist until I found a set of gold-embossed piano-themed letter paper. It was the only piano-themed set left in the whole store, and I had to get it.
(Sorry for the super funky coloring, this photo was super yellow and I color-corrected it really quickly.)
The thing is, after I bought it, I took a closer look and realized that the piano is backward.
See how the lid opens up on the left, and the crook (the curvy part) is also on the left? All grand pianos open up to the right, unless, I suppose, they are specially constructed otherwise. I can’t believe that the stationery makers got the piano wrong; maybe they hired a dyslexic piano-illustrator.
I’m now ever-so-slightly embarrassed to use this elegant stationery for anyone who’s an actual pianist. I guess I’ll only use it when I want to test amateur wannabe pianists. “You didn’t notice that the piano is backward? I hereby eject you from the Real Pianists’ Club! Good day!”
Okay, so I can’t sleep. And I’ve always wanted to write unofficial reviews of bad books. So naturally, 2:30 in the morning is the perfect time to put together a little rant about one book in particular that has always bothered me; and hey, this may become A Thing. I’m going to say, right up front, that I’m kind of a book snob. Sorry.
So for my Bad Book Review #1, I will tell you exactly what bothers me about Define “Normal”, by Julie Anne Peters. (Hey, this is like a middle school book report, only…better?)
Now to be fair, this isn’t a bad book. It’s your typical going-through-middle-school/uncovering-facades-type young person novel, and it touches on some dark topics like depression, abandonment, etc. Then again the characters use slang like “cronk” and “bode” unironically, so I guess you win some and you lose some. However, I did actually read this several times in my youth because it’s fairly enjoyable reading, except for one thing which has always really bothered me.
One of the main characters, a punk-type girl with a prickly exterior, is secretly a budding concert pianist. So as it stands, classical piano is an important element in this book. The problem is I don’t think the author knows anything about classical piano.
Let’s establish some facts here. Our thirteen-year-old quasi-heroine (who goes by “Jazz”) tells the protagonist that she wants to go to Juilliard. Great! Juilliard is one of the most prestigious conservatories in the world (with its latest acceptance rate at 5.5%), so good for you!
But hold on for a minute. If you want to have the remotest chance of getting in to Juilliard, you have to be brain-smackingly good. So this is where it all falls apart.
One piece that Jazz plays, which astounds the main character, is Bach’s Minuet in G.
Hold on, this Minuet in G?
This is the piece that every six-year-old plays once they learn how to read notes. But let’s give the author the benefit of the doubt; maybe this is some obscure Minuet in G that is really difficult. The best I could think of was maybe a minuet from one of the partitas, and there is indeed a movement marked Tempo di Minuetta from his G Major Partita.
But why would someone learn a tiny part of a partita and not learn the whole thing? It’s like if Justin Bieber only performed one stanza of “Baby” at each of his concerts. So I’m going to have to assume that Jazz is indeed playing a piece most often played by babies. And she wants to go to Juilliard. Well, okay. Nothing wrong with dreaming big!
Next, Jazz entrances people with her rendition of Debussy’s “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Fawn.” The author describes how our pianist’s rendering of the piece is so expressively powerful that the protagonist can clearly see a baby fawn frolicking with mama deer.
A few problems.
1. Debussy’s Prélude à l’après-midi d’un fauneis an orchestral piece. (There is a version arranged for solo piano, but it wasn’t by Debussy.)
2. It’s “Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun,” not “Fawn.” It’s all well and good that the main character can see the baby fawn so clearly, but this isn’t just a matter of spelling. Prélude à l’après-midi d’un faune is not about frolicking fawns, it’s about a mythological goat-creature trying to have sex with nymphs.
Well, maybe Jazz’s repertoire is just very creatively constructed. The glowing jewel of her repertoire though, which she was slated to play at a competition in the book, is Chopin’s Polonaise.
But wait, which one? There are at least twenty-three polonaises by Chopin. Was it the one he wrote when he was seven? Or the Polonaise-Fantasie? All we are told is that Jazz struggles with it, which isn’t surprising if 1/3 of her repertoire is a piece played by the post-toddler set.
In a piano lesson, Jazz’s teacher tells her that the Bach and Debussy are “perfect,” but the Chopin is not quite there. And that’s it. He doesn’t tell her if it’s an issue with her technique, or expressiveness, or if she’s muddying the harmonies with the pedal, or needs to improve the clarity of the melody, or what. He just tells her it’s almost there, and leaves. If only I could get away with teaching like that! “Yeah, this one thing is perfect, and that one thing isn’t. That’ll be a hundred dollars.”
So to Julie Anne Peters:
Look, I realize that music isn’t the center of your novel, and you might not have been counting on a book about an aspiring concert pianist to be read by…an aspiring concert pianist. But it doesn’t hurt to do a little bit of research. College students do it all the time.
Two to three times a week I walk twenty minutes or so to my piano lesson. I actually prefer walking over taking the bus (even though I have a bus pass) because the little journey is so pleasant. One time I took pictures along the way.
This is the view as I walk along the river. Ahead is the bridge I walk over.
There are multiple bridges over the Salzach, some for pedestrians and some for vehicular traffic. I like walking over this one—it’s less crowded.
This is the view from the bridge. You can see the domes of churches and a fortress on a mountain. It’s beautiful.
After I cross the bridge, I continue walking along the river. In the afternoon beautiful twenty-somethings sit under the trees playing guitar or talking and sometimes on hotter days they sunbathe on the riverbank.
I always pass this giant guitar.
The graffiti here is much more artistic than what I’ve seen in America. I also see a lot of anti-Nazi graffiti; things like “Nazis töten!” and “**** Nazis!” or “Kill all Nazis!” and “Space Invaders against Anti-Semitism.” There’s also the occasional ideological anti-war or anarchist message scrawled on walls.
This is the part of Salzburg known as the “new town.” By “new” they mean it’s a few hundred years old. The “old town” has buildings dating back to when years only comprised three digits.
This is the view I get when I return from my piano lesson and the sun begins to set. If only all commutes could be this glorious.
(Sorry for the super funky coloring, this photo was super yellow and I color-corrected it really quickly.)
See how the lid opens up on the left, and the crook (the curvy part) is also on the left? All grand pianos open up to the right, unless, I suppose, they are specially constructed otherwise. I can’t believe that the stationery makers got the piano wrong; maybe they hired a dyslexic piano-illustrator. 
