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The Sound of Memory: Themes from a Violinist’s Life
In The Sound of Memory, concert violinist Rebecca Fischer wrestles with the life of a performing artist in the twenty-first century, the physical and material components of memory, the nature of musical inheritance, and the gifts and pressures of a calling that runs generations deep. From memories of breastfeeding on concert tours, to the surprising ways her body remembers music she heard in the womb, to witnessing her children’s own evolving musicianship, Fischer shares her perspective as the first violinist of the renowned Chiara String Quartet and parent to young people exploring their gender identities amidst social upheaval and a pandemic. As she revisits geographies that have left marks on her life and creative practice over the years, she examines what we owe to our families, our communities, our art, and ourselves—ultimately exhorting us to consider both the individual and communal resonances of artistic expression and the meaning it brings to our shared lives.
218 pages, Paperback
Published April 7, 2022
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April 2, 20247 Apr 2022
B.A. Van Sise for the New York Journal of Books
Name your strongest memories.
Good.
Now remember what they sounded like: Perhaps it’s that slow swath of waves rolling in under your Mexican balcony. Or the Edith Piaf playing on an old record player while you danced. Or, regrettably, the awkward Backstreet Boys video serving as the soundtrack to your first kiss. It isn’t hard for any of us to summon any of it.
After smell, there is no greater trigger or recorder of the human experience in the human mind than the sound of things.
The Sound of Memory, a collection of essays by concert violinist Rebecca Fischer, is a pizzicato rendition of the memories of modern life as a musical artist: the strains and challenges of an ambivalent world in which anyone not rising is slowly sinking, the unique impressions on family life, and perhaps more intriguingly the idea of epigenetic memory and musical inheritance.
The notes on the page are intertwined with the natural rhythms of our lives, and with Fischer’s in particular: the balance of breastfeeding on concert tours bookends, nicely, a breathtaking explanation of memory of music heard while in the womb, which if not told so well by someone so well-invested might have been hard to believe.
Fischer is a musician, and a talented one, and those sensibilities here dampen the impact of the stories to tell: Much music is bettered in its lengthening, the time taken to stretch a note to fill a room with sound until the listener is downright damp with it. Nowhere is this more true than for the violin, Fischer’s instrument of choice, which is the centerpiece of any classical body, its swell and fall, its total tide. It is not a sensibility that translates well: Fischer’s touching human stories, and useful insight on some of the most vital of human experiences, is challenged by the musician’s desire to fill the room. It is overlong.
It’s not clear that, as of yet, Fischer is of enough note to merit a memoir, or old enough to draw from deep experience. But she is a person who listens, and for those who wonder about the growth (and grind) of life on the road or the musically inclined interested in a poetic exploration of the resonance of sound in even the most common corners of life, it is recommended.
B.A. Van Sise for the New York Journal of Books
Name your strongest memories.
Good.
Now remember what they sounded like: Perhaps it’s that slow swath of waves rolling in under your Mexican balcony. Or the Edith Piaf playing on an old record player while you danced. Or, regrettably, the awkward Backstreet Boys video serving as the soundtrack to your first kiss. It isn’t hard for any of us to summon any of it.
After smell, there is no greater trigger or recorder of the human experience in the human mind than the sound of things.
The Sound of Memory, a collection of essays by concert violinist Rebecca Fischer, is a pizzicato rendition of the memories of modern life as a musical artist: the strains and challenges of an ambivalent world in which anyone not rising is slowly sinking, the unique impressions on family life, and perhaps more intriguingly the idea of epigenetic memory and musical inheritance.
The notes on the page are intertwined with the natural rhythms of our lives, and with Fischer’s in particular: the balance of breastfeeding on concert tours bookends, nicely, a breathtaking explanation of memory of music heard while in the womb, which if not told so well by someone so well-invested might have been hard to believe.
Fischer is a musician, and a talented one, and those sensibilities here dampen the impact of the stories to tell: Much music is bettered in its lengthening, the time taken to stretch a note to fill a room with sound until the listener is downright damp with it. Nowhere is this more true than for the violin, Fischer’s instrument of choice, which is the centerpiece of any classical body, its swell and fall, its total tide. It is not a sensibility that translates well: Fischer’s touching human stories, and useful insight on some of the most vital of human experiences, is challenged by the musician’s desire to fill the room. It is overlong.
It’s not clear that, as of yet, Fischer is of enough note to merit a memoir, or old enough to draw from deep experience. But she is a person who listens, and for those who wonder about the growth (and grind) of life on the road or the musically inclined interested in a poetic exploration of the resonance of sound in even the most common corners of life, it is recommended.
March 27, 2022
I have to thank The Ohio State University Press, Mad Creek Books, and Rebecca Fischer for sending me this elegantly curated collection of prose and memoir materials in the form of her debut novel, The Sound of Memory: Themes from a Violinist's Life.
What a wonderful break from the world of gory horror books and thrillers that I've come to know and love. This carefully depicted series of events gave me in an inside peek into the life of a professional concert violinist who's career travels allow her and her family to experience life unlike any other. From birthing children and moving from state to state, to enduring the chaos of the most recent global health crisis that's still infecting so many worldwide, the reader is taken along for a ride to understand the ebb and flow of Rebecca's day-to-day.
I appreciated the good-natured nods to social justice -- where the author described her children marching at the 2017 Women's March and also playing in Washington Square Park for Elijah McClain, the sweet soul whose life was taken too soon by corrupted police brutality back in 2020. I always feel comforted when I know the writer and the reader are on the same page -- which is ultimately the right side of history to be fighting for.
I cannot stress this enough, I will be recommending this beautiful piece to all of my friends, musicians or not, because it's a story that deserves to be heard by the masses.
5/5 I am eternally gracious for this splendid gift.
What a wonderful break from the world of gory horror books and thrillers that I've come to know and love. This carefully depicted series of events gave me in an inside peek into the life of a professional concert violinist who's career travels allow her and her family to experience life unlike any other. From birthing children and moving from state to state, to enduring the chaos of the most recent global health crisis that's still infecting so many worldwide, the reader is taken along for a ride to understand the ebb and flow of Rebecca's day-to-day.
I appreciated the good-natured nods to social justice -- where the author described her children marching at the 2017 Women's March and also playing in Washington Square Park for Elijah McClain, the sweet soul whose life was taken too soon by corrupted police brutality back in 2020. I always feel comforted when I know the writer and the reader are on the same page -- which is ultimately the right side of history to be fighting for.
I cannot stress this enough, I will be recommending this beautiful piece to all of my friends, musicians or not, because it's a story that deserves to be heard by the masses.
5/5 I am eternally gracious for this splendid gift.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews