foggy_rosamund's review against another edition
4.0
Dorothy Baker's first novel follows the short life of Rick Martin, a virtuoso jazz musician at a time when jazz was not taken seriously. Rick Martin is white, but most of his friend and fellow musicians are black: Martin intuitively understand that black musicians play the best and most innovative jazz, and this allows him to move beyond the prejudices and racism of the 1920s. The novel is narrated by an unnamed man, a friend and admirer of Rick, although the focus is exclusively on Rick's life. Baker's main interest is in music: in the development of a musician and the single-minded obsession of someone who is a passionate and talented artist. The story itself does not feel new -- we are all familiar with stories about talented people who drink themselves to death -- but Baker's writing is fresh and insightful. We care about Rick, and the people in his life, particularly his best and oldest friend, Smoke Jordan, a black jazz musician who introduced Rick to jazz clubs. Although the narratives suffers from 1930s racist language and attitudes, Young Man with a Horn is full of measured and nuanced portrayals of black characters, which allows the novel to feel modern and gives the jazz world depth and insight. Although it is not a novel about racism, an examination of racist attitudes is constantly in the background of the text. For the most part, though, this is a novel about the transformative power of music and is a celebration of jazz.
I did not find it is revolutionary or full of emotion as Baker's last novel, Cassandra at the Wedding which was written twenty years after Young Man with a Horn, but in both she creates an authentic and compelling narrative voice, and both feel unique. She is an astonishingly talented writer.
I did not find it is revolutionary or full of emotion as Baker's last novel, Cassandra at the Wedding which was written twenty years after Young Man with a Horn, but in both she creates an authentic and compelling narrative voice, and both feel unique. She is an astonishingly talented writer.
kitnotmarlowe's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.25
On the one hand, I'm glad I read Cassandra at the Wedding before Young Man with a Horn because I might not have read Cassandra at the Wedding otherwise. On the other hand, throughout Young Man with a Horn, I kept thinking, "Well, it's no Cassandra at the Wedding." Of course, Cassandra is a life-changing masterpiece, but Young Man isn't too shabby either. Dorothy Baker invented the Jazz Novel with her debut, after all.
So, Young Man with a Horn, a book, my reading of which was coloured by the fact that I was spending most evenings bedside at the hospital. I'm not saying this to gain sympathy but rather for context.
Young Man with a Horn's cardinal sin is the pacing. Almost all of the plot's momentum occurs in the final quarter. Rick meets Amy; Rick marries Amy; Rick and Amy's marriage falls apart. Rick gets a big career break; Rick pushes himself too far; Rick's career and life fall apart. This technique could work if there was more room for it, but the NYRB edition is 185 pages, including an afterword. Baker's setup is fantastic, but her execution is less so. Amy is only introduced on page 126! She's delightfully noir and a fascinating character in both the story and the larger context of early queer lit (things look pretty good for her at the end of the story). Unfortunately, her significance is undermined by the brevity of her appearance.
I wouldn't be myself if I didn't point out that, along with Rick and Amy's fagdyke failmarriage, there's ALSO something lavender going on with Rick and Smoke. It's refreshing to read about a friendship between two men founded on mutual respect and a love of music. The politics are, of course, Of The Time, but Baker avoids cliches and low-hanging fruit. Things would have been different, I'm sure, if both men played the same instrument, dooming them to be nothing more than competitors for solos and contracts. Instead, because one plays trumpet and the other drums, they have no choice but to complement each other. In the afterword, Gary Giddens notes that "Rick is constantly integrating his bands, since a man's colour is invisible on a recording." (p.179)
Why is it so sad that I'm like, "Wow, revolutionary! Men can be friends!" However, because this is Dorothy Baker, there has to be some gay shit going on. We hit the ground running in Smoke's first appearance, where he is described as Rick's "first, last, and always friend." (p.24)
Then, we get this lovely scene when Rick apologizes for calling Smoke "a horse's ass":
"Why I said it is I like you better than anybody. Damn, it, honey, don't cry any more or I'll have to too. I'm sorry I said it, and I didn't mean it. Honest to Christ, I didn't mean it."
He did the best he could, considering that this was the first time he'd handled tenderness directly. His knowledge of the jargon was limited to the lyrics of popular songs. He made it work, though, well enough to make Smoke stop crying. Both of them rose from the piano bench recovered, the one reassured and the other exculpated and neither one embarrassed, though one had certainly wept like a nervous woman and the other had fallen into the wrong terminology." (p.64)
This entire passage makes me feel like the woman in The Yellow Wallpaper. Baker's portrayal of Rick's egolessness contrasts with the overwhelming egocentricity we see later in Cassandra. Rick doesn't need to be egotistical because he's talented enough to get by without a facade. Moreover, he's never learned to put one up. This makes him more tragic than if he were simply a prodigy who got too big for his britches. Instead, he's a modest kid with one blazing talent that makes him self-destruct. The first section is the literary equivalent of whatever girls do at sleepovers. This was the first time he'd handled tenderness directly...
There's this quote from p.118:
"Rick looked at Smoke Jordan's black face shining above that magnificent collection of white-skinned drums, and he saw how much the same he was. Same one that used to do the hot sweeping at Gandy's, only that one wore yellow cords and this one wore a white tuxedo. Daniel Jordan in a white tuxedo pounding the prettiest set of drums in existence. A dazzling sight. His eyes were turned obliquely upward and he chewed his lower lip all the while he played; then, he'd knock out a beauty and turn his eyes down, startled as if he'd surprised even himself with that one. If he knew Rick Martin was in the room would he play any better or worse? He couldn't play any better."
That's romance, baby. Smoke actually calls Rick "baby" twice. On p. 157:
"Did I look bad tonight?"
"Baby, you never looked better in your life."
And when Rick is on his deathbed on p. 171:
"Take it easy, baby; I'm going to get you out of here."
Anyway, that's my thesis. This book is about two Kinsey 5.5s who marry because they don't know what else to do. I will watch the film (can you, in good faith, call it an adaptation when they change the central thesis of the novel along with everything that matters?) but will do so begrudgingly.
feeona's review against another edition
Erstveröffentlicht bereits 1938, jetzt "wiederentdeckt" und seinem verdientem Ruhm zugeführt.
Mir ist der Titel in der Buchhaltung direkt ins Auge gefallen, "Ich mag mich irren, aber ich finde dich fabelhaft", das hat so etwas traurig hoffnungsvolles. Und das ist das Buch auch. Rick Martin lebt für die Musik, sie ist alles was zählt - und er hat Talent. Er will alles schaffen, er will nicht leben, er will nur spielen. Jedoch geht er am Ende an dieser bedingungslosen Leidenschaft, die alles andere auffrisst zu Grunde.
Die Musik ist in diesem Buch so wundervoll beschrieben, dass ich sie fast hören konnte. Die Geschichte ist kurz und intensiv, so wie das Leben des Protagonisten.
Mir ist der Titel in der Buchhaltung direkt ins Auge gefallen, "Ich mag mich irren, aber ich finde dich fabelhaft", das hat so etwas traurig hoffnungsvolles. Und das ist das Buch auch. Rick Martin lebt für die Musik, sie ist alles was zählt - und er hat Talent. Er will alles schaffen, er will nicht leben, er will nur spielen. Jedoch geht er am Ende an dieser bedingungslosen Leidenschaft, die alles andere auffrisst zu Grunde.
Die Musik ist in diesem Buch so wundervoll beschrieben, dass ich sie fast hören konnte. Die Geschichte ist kurz und intensiv, so wie das Leben des Protagonisten.
mlafaive's review against another edition
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
gracer's review against another edition
5.0
Five stars seems a little strong but I more than "really liked" this book.
A beautiful book about jazz and art in general, this book primarily won me over through the narrative voice, which was strong and unique. There was some slang and some great turns of phrase which stood out to me over and over again, but which I never bothered to underline or copy down because that would have been half the book.
Then there's the writing about the music itself, things like:
"Anybody could have understood that band three blocks away. It wasn't that they were loud; it was that they were so firm about the way they played, no halfway measures, nothing fuzzy. They knew what they were getting at, singly and as a group." (p .34)
I will admit that at first some of the language made me uncomfortable and parts of it seemed racist. That's because parts of it were racist, but I quickly realized that it wasn't the author blindly making assumptions and creating stereotypes. It was a literary device, which changed as the book wore on - the way blacks and whites are seen from afar, and then up close, at an individual view. This book manages to address subjects like what it meant to have interracial friendships and the role of race in jazz, without any overt commentary. It's a question of literary proximity, and the way that, as the white trumpet player gets to know a group of black musicians, the perspective develops and changes - all filtered through this anonymous narrator. I thought this particular aspect of the book was really interesting.
Normally I don't pay much attention to character likability because I find that to be an inaccurate judge of the worth of a book (not to mention completely unrelated to a book's merit) but I thought it was notable just how likable Rick, the protagonist, is. He's a kid with incredibly talent. He doesn't get big headed, but he also isn't that type of insufferable modest character you see so much in fiction. He knows he's good and he knows who else is good, but he keeps his head down and stays focused. Later he missteps and he's still likable and, more than that, human.
I would add that the afterword is a fascinating read in and of itself, discussing a variety of things such as jazz and the historical accuracy of the book, as well as the fascinating life of the author, her interests and subjects. I would like to read more by Baker - and more by Gary Giddins as well.
A beautiful book about jazz and art in general, this book primarily won me over through the narrative voice, which was strong and unique. There was some slang and some great turns of phrase which stood out to me over and over again, but which I never bothered to underline or copy down because that would have been half the book.
Then there's the writing about the music itself, things like:
"Anybody could have understood that band three blocks away. It wasn't that they were loud; it was that they were so firm about the way they played, no halfway measures, nothing fuzzy. They knew what they were getting at, singly and as a group." (p .34)
I will admit that at first some of the language made me uncomfortable and parts of it seemed racist. That's because parts of it were racist, but I quickly realized that it wasn't the author blindly making assumptions and creating stereotypes. It was a literary device, which changed as the book wore on - the way blacks and whites are seen from afar, and then up close, at an individual view. This book manages to address subjects like what it meant to have interracial friendships and the role of race in jazz, without any overt commentary. It's a question of literary proximity, and the way that, as the white trumpet player gets to know a group of black musicians, the perspective develops and changes - all filtered through this anonymous narrator. I thought this particular aspect of the book was really interesting.
Normally I don't pay much attention to character likability because I find that to be an inaccurate judge of the worth of a book (not to mention completely unrelated to a book's merit) but I thought it was notable just how likable Rick, the protagonist, is. He's a kid with incredibly talent. He doesn't get big headed, but he also isn't that type of insufferable modest character you see so much in fiction. He knows he's good and he knows who else is good, but he keeps his head down and stays focused. Later he missteps and he's still likable and, more than that, human.
I would add that the afterword is a fascinating read in and of itself, discussing a variety of things such as jazz and the historical accuracy of the book, as well as the fascinating life of the author, her interests and subjects. I would like to read more by Baker - and more by Gary Giddins as well.
writesdave's review
adventurous
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.25
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