By J.D. Landis
The Romantic period used to be the cradle for artists who lived existence to the fullest and enjoyed with no restraint, and Robert Schumann and his spouse, Clara, have been the epitome of this unbounded interval. Robert stunned and stressed listeners with track that heralded the start of the trendy period whereas he drove either his brain and his physique to their restrict. Clara was once the main acclaimed girl pianist of her time-a time that incorporated Liszt, Chopin, Mendelssohn, and later, Brahms, whom Clara and Robert enjoyed greater than the other guy. With characters of surpassing power, Longing delineates the main intimate information of the relationships among women and men with a surpassing precision, sympathy, and knowledge. Combining the dramatic historic narrative of The Alienist with the passionate sensitivity of ownership and the sensual intellectuality of The insufferable Lightness of Being, it's a consummate success of the novelist's paintings.
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Extra resources for Longing
Oh, my,” said Moscheles. ” He winked at Robert before withdrawing his right hand from Robert’s grasp. “I am a pianist,” said Robert. “I could tell,” said Moscheles. ” asked Robert. “No. ” Robert could not believe he was doubting Moscheles. It was like telling a god you mistrusted his powers. ” said Moscheles. ” “Aha! ” Robert shook his head. ” Moscheles put his hand on Robert’s shoulder and drew him away from the young man in the towel, but the young man followed them step for step. “Clementi played that same sonata—the B-ﬂat—in a famous duel.
She was mute. But she wasn’t deaf. She could hear music. Words, which is to say speech, meant nothing to her. She had no idea speech was made of words, any more than she knew, when she was four years old, that music was made of notes. But music spoke to her. It was speech that did not yet speak to her. And so on this day that her mother took her and together they left her father, neither of them told her where she was going or why. But she knew why. Her mother was music. Her mother sang. Her mother played the piano, as did her father, but her mother played the piano better while her father sold pianos and strange contraptions like ﬁnger stretchers and trill machines and dumb keyboards that he used to help his pupils learn the instrument, for her father was a piano teacher.
It was all I’d ever dreamed of. I wanted nothing more out of life than this. And then a few days later at a party she didn’t seem to know who I was. I mean, she knows who I am, Robert Schumann, but she didn’t so much as acknowledge my existence. And she certainly didn’t seem to know that she had moved into my being and was now as much part of me as I am part of myself. I didn’t know what to do. I ran out to the tavern and drank so much Tokay I got drunk. I told her I loved her, but of course she wasn’t there.
Longing by J.D. Landis