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In terms of quality of writing, the famous cellist might have stuck to his principal art rather than venturing into autobiography. But then we would be without this odd little gem of self-reflection. That would be a pity.
Starker makes no bones about the fact that he writes from the twilight of his life. That is part of this book’s occasionally coarse charm. Like many professional musicians, Starker comes across as something of a crotchety fellow, not only determined to maintain the high artistic standard he early established for himself, but dismissive of those who prove less demanding of themselves.
It could hardly been foreseen that this Hungarian-born Jewish child prodigy, denied a passport from the land of his birth, would play in the great halls of Europe and America-and a number of less great ones far from those cultural centers-and then settle in Bloomington, Indiana with all the fierce loyalty to his midwestern university town that is typical of the immigrant-by-choice. There he became the revered teacher of a cellist friend of my wife’s and so found his way onto my reading list.
The World of Music According to Starker reveals the stitchery side of the unglamorous practice room and backstage world that appears to concert-goers as a well-ordered tapestry. Starker’s loyalty to his friends-for-life is endearing, as is his enduring respect for the consistently great artists like the idiosyncratic Fritz Reiner. Indeed, consistency is one of Starker’s most-admired virtues and in eyes the truest measure of artistry.
Starker occasionally wishes aloud that his contribution might have enriched the lives of others. Indeed.
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