So I am reading the new Leon Fleisher book, which pianist Fleisher, pictured above, wrote with Washington Post music critic Anne Midgette. I am engrossed in the part of the book where Fleisher talks about meeting the woman who would become his second wife.
I enjoy that kind of reminiscence. I burned through Arthur Rubinstein's "My Young Years," I will tell you that right now. Although in Rubinstein's memoirs it did get to be a bit much.
One particular thing in the Fleisher book, I got a kick out of.
Fleisher writes how he is bowled over by this woman, Rikki, because she is beautiful and loves Bartok.
That is all well and good!
But then comes the, ahem, seduction scene. Which of course I am glued to. Fleisher shows up after a concert tour at Rikki's apartment. He brings a magnum of champagne and "Der Rosenkavalier."
Gotta love that!
I am thinking, sure, you think you love a woman because she loves Bartok. But oh boy, when it's time for amour, who's your friend? Not Bartok.
Richard Strauss, that is who.
How a guy who looked like him turned out stuff like this, this or this, we will never know.
But sometimes we are glad he did!
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