Scoring Heimat

This article analyzes Hans Urs von Balthasar's account of the rise of modernism in his Apokalypse der deutschen Seele (1937 –39). Balthasar's narration of the history of eschatology and the rise of the modern age is critical preparation for his rejection of modernism. It is also a forerunner for his definition of German culture through anti-Semitic adversary-markers. According to Balthasar, in the 18th century there was a fall from a romantic age when German culture was Christian. In the 19th and 20th century Balthasar sees a dramatic deterioration of religious and intellectual sensibilities and an alienation from these earlier foundations. Balthasar presents “the Jewish” (das Jüdische) as an adversary of these foundations. Balthasar's claims are here presented and critiqued.

I argue that Herzensergiesungen eines kunstliebenden Klosterbruders and Phantasien uber die Kunst , co-authored by Wilhelm Wackenroder and Ludwig Tieck, employ a “proto-theological” strategy to defend the meaningfulness of the idea of revelation in the romantic age. On the surface, these works argue for a natural affinity between art and religion due to a common dependence on supernatural inspiration. In the eyes of many scholars, however, the various markers of a modern sensibility in the text call into question whether the idea of Kunstreligion can or is even meant to be viable. Against this suspicion, I suggest that the scholarship has not adequately appreciated the total, and quite modern, strategy for representing divine action in these texts. Instead of being grounded in specific religious images—such as Rafael’s vision of the Madonna, which can be explained away as metaphor—the concept of divine action can most reliably be inferred from a more general quality of the text, namely the unsystematic heterogeneity of divine phenomena that it represents. When intuitive certainty of the divine is combined with an irreducible diversity of forms, we are pushed beyond the realm of rational-scientific competency and into a “proto-theological” realm viable even in modernity.

<p>Eugène Ysaÿe (1858-1931) was one of the most prominent violin virtuosos from the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth century. As a composer, his Six Sonatas for Unaccompanied Violin, Op. 27, composed in 1924, are amongst his most creative and significant contributions to the solo violin repertoire. Each sonata was dedicated to a different virtuoso violinist and is composed to represent the different performing style of each violinist. Among the research related to Ysaÿe’s solo sonatas, there is no detailed performance analysis of the works. Although instructions in Ysaÿe’s solo sonatas are marked carefully in terms of tempo, bowings, bow strokes, fingerings, string choices, dynamics, and characters, the existing recordings show a variety of approaches regarding these elements. Therefore, this exegesis investigates the sonatas through the comparative analysis of six selected recordings of the composer’s students or their own students, and performers with no direct pedagogical lineage to the composer. The study explores whether performances recorded by the violinists who have a pedagogical connection to the composer provide useful sources that are not found in the music, and also examines how and why different musical decisions were made and offers my point of view as a performer as well.</p>

Since the early days of cinematography, the cinematic landscape has played an important role in exploring the affective relationship between men and space—in the broadest sense, this describes the search for a specific cultural identity and social belonging. In German and Austrian film history, the cinematic landscape even became a special trademark of the so-called Heimatfilm (sentimental film in an idealized regional setting). The expansive natural landscapes in Heimatfilme are constitutive of the genre, with the documentary-style depiction of nature resembling what Tom Gunning has called the “cinema of attraction.” A true expert at musically staging cinematic landscapes was the Italian composer Giuseppe Becce (1877–1973). In sound film, he preferred to work with directors of German Bergfilme and Heimatfilme and was artistically associated with the mountaineer and director Luis Trenker in particular for decades. Becce deployed recognizable topoi (some of which became shopworn clichés from overuse)—a mode of musically manufacturing Heimat that I will call (adapting Rick Altman's notion of “genrification” for a musical context) a sonic genrification of Heimat. The symphonic sounds of Heimat associated with idyllic nature have a prereflective effect in the Heimatfilm—they are usually perceived unconsciously. In this way, Becce coined a sound of Heimat in German culture after the Second World War. In this article, the music in German Heimatfilm is examined in terms of cultural memory and the cultural coding of music. In an interdisciplinary interplay of musicology, film aesthetics and cultural theory, the sound of Heimat, which is taken for granted, is revealed in its medial and aesthetic construction.

- A passion for radio engineering and an interest in music led the author to studies in electrical engineering followed by research positions in audio engineering at NHK, the Japanese Broadcasting Corporation. NHK afforded him the rare opportunity of investigating single-cell recording from auditory neurons of the cat. The experience inspired his development of models of hearing. Later he played a primary role in the invention of the 3-1 multi-channel sound standard for HDTV in Japan. His theoretical and applied background provided a strong foundation for an academic position in the Department of Music at Kyoto City University of Arts. Here, he supervised around 100 graduate theses on a wide variety of topics in music psychology. With Japanese colleagues, he also promoted the field of music psychology both in Japan and internationally, through translation into Japanese of several key books on music psychology, organizing conferences, and establishing the Japanese Society for Music Perception and Cognition. BACKGROUND AND CAREER PATH Ohgushi was born in 1938 in Nagasaki prefecture which is located in the southern part of Japan. At that time, his father worked as a physician at the Navy hospital in Sasebo city in Nagasaki prefecture. The next year, his father changed his residence to China with his family, but they returned to Japan after the end of the Second World War. After the war, most Japanese people were very poor. Ohgushi always felt hungry as many Japanese children did. Yet, as an elementary school student, he received piano lessons from his mother using a piano of his elementary school. In those days, very few families had a piano at home. He was also interested in playing baseball and collecting postage stamps. Later, as a high school student (12-18 years old), he was very much interested in building radio receiver sets with vacuum tubes, playing baseball and listening to music through radio sets of his own making. He was especially eager to design and build new radio sets. When he was 16 years old, he made up his mind to go on to university to study the theory of radio engineering in detail. In 1957, he took the entrance examination of Kyoto University, one of the traditional National Seven Universities in Japan. Fortunately, he passed the entrance examination for the department of electric engineering. He was especially interested in studies of electronic wireless communication and electronic circuit theory. After a four-year undergraduate course, in 1961, he presented a graduation thesis on a microwave parametric (variable reactance) amplifier for wireless space communication. In Japanese universities, there were extracurricular activities such as the baseball club, basketball club, orchestra, chorus, piano club and so on. Ohgushi belonged to the piano club and took some piano lessons from a professional pianist. At the concert of the piano club members, he enjoyed performing several challenging pieces. These musical adventures included performances of Haydn's Piano Concerto in D Major (the second piano part was played by a friend) and Mozart's Violin Sonata K.2g6, in C Major (the violin was played by another friend, one of the members of the student orchestra). In those days, most university students entered Japanese companies just after completion of a fouryear university course. In 1961, Ohgushi joined NHK (Japan Broadcasting Corporation) which had excellent technical research laboratories for radio and TV research in Tokyo. The laboratories had about 10 research divisions and a research staff of about 250 persons. He wished to work in the technical research laboratories. However, newcomers were, as a general rule, assigned to a local broadcasting station and were required to work there for no less than three years. At first, he was assigned to Matsuyama broadcasting station far from Tokyo. He worked mainly as a sound engineer. He gained experience in recording of sound for music, drama, and outdoor events of broadcasting programs. …

252Reviews For instance, in Dryden's interpretation of Faulkner, the "ghostly presence" of echoing voices in the text make it impossible to have an "original voice" who once and for all can tell an authoritative story (p. 148). Further, in Faulkner, what is undone is the "idea of a pater familias who initiates successive generations of offspring " (p. 153). As a result, Faulkner "also equivocates the idea of narrative or story : as the orderly unfolding of a plot from a single authoritative source" (p. 154). All the questions of generation, authority, and authorship are understandable as revisions or revolts against narrative as an originating patriarchal event. Dryden displays this genealogical language quite convincingly but seems in the end to accept it as the defining contours of "American romance" without examining how romances written by non-canonical writers might affect his generalizations about genre. In a more "enlightened" but equally decisive manner, women and minority writers are again excluded from the critical game as inferences about individual texts that rely on specific familial metaphors are presented as representative of The Form of American Romance. Can a discussion of American romance really afford to overlook the work of Harriet Beecher Stowe, E. D. E. N. Southworth, and Edith Wharton? What sense can we make of our critical vocabularies if they are presented to us as entangled with a "genealogical crisis" that refers to specific gender relationships yet limits the axes of these relationships? What would happen if a critic of American literature would dare to explore together the "genealogical crisis" of romance that privileges not only the father-son metaphor but also the mother-daughter, let alone the mother-son or father-daughter metaphor? Would critical anarchy result, or a tale of intertextuality that echoes the polyphonous voices of our literary past? Are the narratives of the past so neatly divided into separate literary traditions that they symmetrically privilege one gender over another? If they are, then the gender ghettos of American criticism do indeed become golden prisons. Washington State UniversityJoan Burbick Kaplan, Amy. The Social Construction ofAmerican Realism. Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1988. 187 pp. Cloth: $29.95. Amy Kaplan's poststructuralist reading of William Dean Howells, Edith Wharton, and Theodore Dreiser puts her at the forefront of critics currently redefining American Realism. Kaplan examines how Realists responded to the turbulent transformation of capitalist society between the Civil War and World War I; she assumes that language does not reflect reality but instead helps to produce and interpret it. If realistic novels written in America do not reflect society—as the traditional theory of mimesis would assert—what then, she asks, do these novels do and how do they do it? To answer these and related questions, she briefly traces the critical background to the study of Realism in America, with special attention to the influence of Lionel Trilling's politics and Richard Chase's romance thesis, then studies how social change, class difference, and mass culture affected the development of American Realism. Faced with social change, American Realists confronted "the growing sense of unreality at the heart of middle-class life" (p. 9), questioned the accessibility of a rapidly changing society to a writer, and searched for what Frederic Jameson calls a "strategy of containment" (p. 10) in their attempt to imagine and manage this society. Kaplan locates their anxiety in the conflict between two versions of reality: fragmented reality caused by class conflict and homogeneous reality caused by the rise Studies in American Fiction253 of a mass culture generated by nationally distributed newspapers, magazines, and best sellers. In treating social change as the foreground rather than as the background of a novel, American Realists struggled to contain conflicting visions of reality and to control "a process of change which seems to defy representation" (p. 10). Kaplan discusses the early professional career of the three authors as they strove to represent society. Howells develops his theory and practice of realism partly as a response to new forms of mass representation and to his anxiety over the possible . collapse of society. Realism becomes a way to constrain social differences and to control potential conflict in society; hence, Howells emphasizes character...

In this article I examine the impact of Felix Mendelssohn's affiliation with a German-Jewish subculture on his music as reflected in the Lieder ohne Worte (Songs without Words) for piano solo. To better understand the interrelationship between musical formations and sociocultural realities, I associate the real and imaginary tensions between the German, the Jewish, and the German-Jewish with stylistic ambiguities in Mendelssohn's piano songs, which often destabilize the lyrical simplicity projected by the lieder framework through formal complexities that exceed the narrow scope of the piano miniature.I establish the connections between Mendelssohn's music and sociocultural disposition by identifying a correlation between his so-called stylistic ‘conservatism’ and the anachronistic devotion of German Jewry to the universal ideals of the Enlightenment during the rise of German nationalism. Against this background, I primarily reveal the generic heterogeneity of the Lieder ohne Worte, which feature ‘progressive’ stylistic frameworks associated with the lied traditions yet concurrently point toward the formal ideals of eighteenth-century classicism. And following this, I position the stylistic duality of Mendelssohn's piano songs within a broader context through Heinrich Heine's essay The Romantic School, which sheds crucial light on the negotiation of Jewishness within German culture as it is reflected in aesthetic movements, historical changes, and political climates.

The Same Blood Works in Us. Wies Moens as a Cultural Mediator in Times of War During the Second World War, the relations between the peoples and cultures involved were redefined, not only politically but also culturally. Cultural mediators between Flanders and Germany sought to clarify and strengthen the relationship between both cultures, aided by the German cultural policy that was explicitly anti-French. Wies Moens was a central figure in this process of cultural mediation as a writer, translator and public intellectual. His translation of the Finnish epic Kalevala fed the idea of kinship between the Germanic cultures. Also with his translation of Hölderlin he took a cultural-political position – one which exposed the scope of his network to boot. His translation of Flemish war poetry finally shows Moens’ hope that the planned cultural transfer would not be exclusively unidirectional. Both his rhetoric and his actions during the Second World War show Wies Moens as a constant mediator and bridge builder between Flanders and Germany.

Artists and intellectuals all over Europe received the news of the outbreak of war in August 1914 with enthusiasm and relief. In Germany, where there had been fierce public debates about a loss of spiritual values and about the roots of German cultural identity over the previous thirty years, the war was welcomed as a clearing thunderstorm which would bring about a revival of idealism and of true German art and culture. However, during the war many artists and critics presented their own artistic preferences as the inalienable expression of the German people; thus different works of art were conceived as ‘lieux de mémoire’ of national identity.

Supported by autobiographical sources and the correspondence of contemporary personages, the present research aims to reconstruct Dimitrie Gusti’s representations of Germany. Having spent almost ten years studying at the universities of Berlin and Leipzig, the German cultural environment was a formative factor for him, and became the obligatory point of reference for his scientific work. In addition, it was the place where, thanks to a group of friends who were also studying in Germany, he decided on the meaning of his public endeavours for social change. By following Gusti’s public career, I aim to understand the dynamics of this affective and intellectual connection, which can be seen as part of a broader pattern of the dilution of German academic influence after the Great War. Dimitrie Gusti was drawn by the prestige that the German state and German culture carried at the end of the 19th century. After 1918, in a public climate dominated by the demonization of Germany and the Germans due to the horrors of the conflict that had just ended, he renounced his links with the space that helped form his intellect and identity. In the 1930s, he was reluctant to embrace the new Germany, “Hitler’s Germany” as he later called it in his memoirs, despite the attempts of the German academic establishment to lure him onto a platform of collaboration, attempts which concealed a plan to impose on and influence societies in Central and South-Eastern Europe. Although proclaimed Doctor Honoris Causa of the University of Leipzig (February 1935), Gusti was aware of the decline of the great German university system. And yet, even in the years of communism, he never renounced the traditional Germany of his youth, Goethe’s homeland and the country that had helped build European civilization.

Reviews: Fictions of Conversion: Jews, Christians, and Cultures of Change in Early Modern England, Shakespeare and the Remains of Richard III, Shakespeare and the Law: A Conversation among Disciplines and Professions, the Accommodated Animal: Cosmopolity in Shakespearean Locales, the Romantic Crowd: Sympathy, Controversy and Print Culture, Romantic Readers and Transatlantic Travel: Expeditions and Tours in North America, 1760–1840, in the

The Evasion of Literary History

Gilman, Sander L. Jurek Becker. Die Biographie. Berlin and Munich: Ullstein, 2002. 336 pp. euro22.00 hardcover. In clear, concise German Sander Gilman tells a deceptively straightforward and yet unlikely story, the story of a Jewish boy from Poland, who grew up at a time when Jewish children were not supposed to live, and who lived to become one of, if not the most important post-Shoah German authors of prose fiction, film, and television. Becker's parallels the biography of the German Democratic Republic, which, like the writer who tried to distance himself from his Jewish past of suffering, tried to overcome its Nazi past-attempts that in the end failed. Becker, like the state of his youth, quickly became integrated into West Germany, and finally into the new unified Germany. Having been a chronicler and critic of the GDR and the expression of Jewish life (or lack thereof) in its Socialist system, he observed and portrayed the new Germany, most successfully in the television series Liebling Kreuzberg. In order to trace the events that shaped the life and work of this significant author, Sander Gilman, who had met Jurek Becker in the 1960s, interviewed countless individuals who knew Becker, including his closest family members and colleagues. Gilman also consulted Becker's Stasi dossier, archival material, and published and unpublished studies and documents. The result of his painstaking research into this vast amount of material and sources is a surprisingly well structured and lucid book with valuable reference that will benefit scholars and students of Becker's work. Gilman's narrative proceeds chronologically, beginning with Becker's family history, his childhood, the time in the Lodz ghetto, and the deportation to the concentration camp Ravensbruck, together with his mother. The discussion of Becker's and his father's life in the Soviet occupation zone, his socialization in the German Democratic Republic and his status as a Victim of Fascism follow, and important questions for an individual of Becker's origins and aspirations are explored: What is a Jew? and What is a German? Gilman, the author of path-breaking studies devoted to these issues, including Jewish Self-Hatred, Inscribing the Other, Jews in Today's German Culture, The Jew's Body, and other publications on Jewishness and Germanness, brings his rich knowledge to the discussion of these issues in the life and work of Becker. he examines in detail Becker's early career as a screenwriter and a novelist, providing information about Becker that will also appeal to the non-specialist. he focuses particularly on Becker's novel Jakob der Lugner, which with its Jewish protagonists, ghetto prisoners and Holocaust victims, introduced a new view of World War II history in East Germany, and he scrutinizes the GDR film based on Becker's book. …

Readings and Misreadings?The GDR and the GSA Marc Silberman (bio) When the Western Association of German Studies (WAGS)—the forerunner organization of the German Studies Association—was founded in 1976, its vision was to provide a space for interdisciplinary encounters around issues of teaching and researching “things German.” In the mid-1970s there was hardly a consensus that “things German” included a focus on all German-speaking areas, as stated in the front matter of each annual conference program until 1993: “The interest of the Association spans the period from early times to the present German Federal Republic, German Democratic Republic, Austria, and Switzerland, and includes Germans and German culture in other countries.” By embracing the GDR from the outset in its mission, the association was in the academic vanguard and responding to a palpable upswing in this broadening of the geographical and political inclusiveness of “things German.” The end of World War II and the Allied occupation of Germany yielded the Soviet Occupation Zone (SBZ) and in fall 1949 the GDR and FRG as two separate German states. But the combination of America’s postwar introversion, the cold war stand-off, and West Germany’s 1955 Hallstein Doctrine that divided the world into the friendly nations that did not recognize the GDR and unfriendly ones that did, contributed to the erasure of East Germany in the West. With the passage of the National Defense Education Act (NDEA) in 1958 the US government began to invest significant funding in area studies to guarantee a future pool of foreign language experts and scholarly expertise deemed strategic for US interests abroad. However, in this context the GDR was considered to be a German-German issue, with the result that it was excluded from eastern European studies because “Germany” was equated with West Germany, and treated as a footnote in western European studies because East Germany was considered to be in the Soviet Bloc. A few specialists in GDR affairs, journalists, and political scientists who worked generally on German issues, published the first books treating East Germany in the late 1960s, yet both the academe and the broader public knew virtually nothing about this terra incognita. The key year for GDR studies in the US was 1974, a full twenty-five years after the state was founded. What might seem like a dramatic onset of scholarly interest, [End Page 611] in retrospect emerges from a context growing out of various factors. First and foremost, the modification of cold war confrontation through a policy of détente in the early 1970s resulted in the signing in December 1972 of the Grundlagenvertrag, the “Basic Treaty” in which the two German states mutually recognized their sovereignty. Thereupon the US followed in September 1974 by officially recognizing the GDR. This in itself, however, cannot explain the remarkable concatenation of scholarly energies in the course of that year. The newly launched journal New German Critique published its second issue in spring 1974 as a focus issue on the GDR—the very first of its kind in the US—introduced by the editorial collective as “a first attempt of New German Critique to open discussion of this largely neglected moment in the development of socialism” (3). In April the first major conference on the GDR took place at Washington University in St. Louis with over 150 Germanists in attendance.1 Also in spring 1974 the literary scholar Robert Weimann of the Zentralinstitut für Literaturgeschichte held guest lectures at the University of Virginia, and writer Christa Wolf and her writer-critic husband Gerhard Wolf were in residence at Oberlin College in Ohio, followed by Ulrich Plenzdorf one year later and Jurek Becker in 1978. In addition, a session arranged by the American Society for the Study of the GDR focused for the first time on the GDR in a conference of the American Association of Teachers of German (AATG) at Fairfield University in Connecticut. Finally, at the Modern Language Association (MLA) annual convention held in New York City at the end of December 1974 a GDR seminar was scheduled for the first time as part of the German literature offerings. The accumulation of events in 1974 did not...

The Concerto for Trumpet and Orchestra and the Sonata for Trumpet and Piano by Karl Pilss were written in 1934 and 1935, respectively. They are examples for solo trumpet of the late German Romantic style of melody, harmony, form and structure. Musicians and audience often overlook composer Karl Pilss outside his native Vienna. His ties to the Trompeterchor der Stadt Wien and the National Socialist Party during the years preceding the Second World War have limited widespread acceptance of this composer. Pilss' output includes concertos for trumpet, horn, bass trombone, and piano, sonatas for trumpet, violin, and oboe, wind quintets and octets, piano pieces, choral works, and numerous large and small brass works. Pilss' teacher Franz Schmidt is more widely known. His four symphonies provide examples of post-Romanticism at the beginning of the twentieth century. His characteristic use of melody, harmony, form and structure is in the mold of Richard Strauss. Schmidt did not write any works for solo trumpet. However, his Symphony No. 4 begins and ends with extended passages for solo trumpet. Pilss inherited and adopted many of Schmidt's melodic, harmonic and formal traits. These can be clearly heard in his Concerto for Trumpet and Orchestra and the Sonata for Trumpet and Piano. This work discusses in detail the musical and compositional connection between Karl Pilss and his teacher, Franz Schmidt. Musical elements of melody, harmony, form and structure are used to illustrate the close connection between pupil and mentor. The use of the characteristic "Schmidt chord" in Pilss' works cements the link between the two composers. The Concerto for Trumpet and Orchestra and the Sonata for Trumpet and Piano deserve wider acceptance on the basis of their musical merit and as unique examples of the late German Romantic style for solo trumpet.