Charles Ives in the Mirror: American Histories of an Iconic Composer.

Preiss, Robin

Charles Ives in the Mirror: American Histories of an Iconic Composer. By David C. Paul. (Music in American Life.) Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2013. [xi, 288 p. ISBN 9780252037498 (hardcover), $45; ISBN 9780252080517 (paperback), $30; ISBN 9780252094699 (e-book), various.] Illustrations, bibliography, index.

Pick up a copy of David Paul's Charles Ives in the Minor: American Histories of an Iconic Composer, and you will find yourself staring back at your own image reflected in the dust jacket. For the prospective reader who is dazzled by the shiny, silvery reflectivity, the initial response is perhaps surprise. The only opaque imprints are the text of the title, author, and a photograph of Ives's favorite fedora hat. This seems to imply that Ives inhabits the perspective of every expectant reader who holds the book in hand and sees the floating hat above his or her head. And as with a mirror, the perspective of each viewer and composition of each reflected image is different.

For some, the mirror will inspire the notion that the histories of this iconic composer are ongoing, interactive, and even inclusive of the reader. For others, the title will evoke a breathing composer who gazes consciously at his own reflection in the mirror: responding to his own reception and perhaps "mirroring the public persona that his devotees had created for him" (p. 36). Indeed, it is fascinating to consider the degree to which Ives's perception of himself relates to the various legends (e.g., musical pioneer, American maverick, neglected genius, etc.) with which he has been so strongly associated.

David Paul's interest lies with how Ives's reflection is colored by the viewpoints of other Americans. He has written the first book-length reception history of the composer since his relatively recent passing in 1954. His methodology is based on the idea that there exists no single "reception" or "legacy" of culture, but rather that its influence and interpretation are relative, fluid, and constantly changing. Paul links this approach to "interpretive community" coined by intellectual theorist Stanley Fish (Is There a Text in This Class?: The Authority of Interpretive Communities [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1980]).

In fact, Fish's "interpretive communities" are basic to the structure of the book. Over the course of six chapters, Paul suggests six unique yet overlapping communities of discourse, from composers and conductors to scholars of various disciplines. The chapters are constructed roughly chronologically, corresponding to ten- to twenty-year segments of the twentieth century and characterized by broadly changing cultural, social, economic, and political tides. But there are other factors to consider in how the six interpretive communities are distinguished from each other, such as disciplinary approach, methodology, audience, and the setting of the discourse (popular newspaper, academic journal, lecture hall, and concert hall). The book addresses all of these ingredients, as well as the volume, variety, and endurance of voices that populate its various portrayed communities.

That said, the communities themselves are nebulous and difficult to define even for Paul, in part because they are characterized by many disparate factors. After all, Paul is making a bid for relativism, plurality, and flexibility, and so his very methodology resists categorical assumptions. As is to be expected, there is also considerable overlap and disjunction within and among the interpretive communities, as Paul's subjects jostle for attention. If each chapter implies a particular community of discourse, then each chapter essentially asks the question: in what ways do its members share a common identity? What is the common thread?

In the first chapter, "Conservative Transcendentalist or Modernist Firebrand? Ives and His First Publics, 1921-1934," Paul provocatively suggests that Essays Before a Sonata represents the first example of Ives reception (Charles Ives, "Essays Before a Sonata" [New York: The Knickerbocker Press, 1920]). Essays was conceived not from the outside perspective of a critic, but rather from the inner perspective of the composer reflecting upon himself. Ives's early critics, beginning with Henry Bellamann, responded directly to the Essays by addressing the philosophically and spiritually transcendentalist context of the Concord Sonata as opposed to discussing the music itself. As Paul' points out, this cohort of theosophists arrived early to the Ives party, but left only the faintest mark on the long-term reception of Charles Ives.

"Songs of Our Fathers: The Advocacy of Henry Cowell and the Appeal of the American Past, 1927-1947" introduces a different cast of Ives enthusiasts, both in stature and occupation. Paul discusses many eminent writers and composers including Nicolas Slonimsky, Van Wyck Brooks, and Henry and Sidney Cowell. These figures undoubtedly held unique opinions about Ives's specific compositions, yet Paul limits the scope of the chapter to their interpretations of Ives's public identity, in terms of his strident individualism, nationalist tendencies, and his affinity with the modernist and folk music movements. The chapter reveals as much about the venues for Ivesian criticism as it does about the actual intellectual opinions being expressed. These included publications like New Music Quarterly, Modern Music, the Christian Science Monitor, and other books, newspapers, and journals addressing music and cultural thought.

The third chapter, "Winning Hearts and Minds: Ives as Cold War Icon 1947-1965," focuses on a chronological period characterized by political upheaval. The community of discourse is not made cohesive by a shared occupation or methodology. Rather, the common thread among this community is its members' agenda to portray Ives as a nationalist icon. From sociologists and federal agencies to symphonic conductors who championed Ives's symphonic works abroad, they sought to highlight the American spirit with demonstrative tropes supposedly exemplified by Charles Ives, such as creative freedom and resistance to conformity.

The depiction of Ives as a free agent is directly challenged by the subjects of chapter four: "The Prison of Culture: Ives, American Studies, and Intellectual History, 1965-1985." The title refers to the scholar Frank R. Rossiter and his perception of Ives as a "virtual prisoner" of contemporary society and social prejudice (Charles Ives and His America [New York: Liveright, 1975]). Paul links Rossiter's pragmatic approach to a new community of historians: in fact, to the new academic discipline of American studies and consequently a new, younger breed of Ives scholars. They folded Ives and his writings into the "constellations of contemporaneous ideas" (i.e., stream of consciousness and realism) that were percolating among American intellectuals and unifying the American mind-set during those decades.

The fifth chapter, "Musicology Makes Its Mark: Ives and the History of Style, 1965-1985" aims to trace the same chronological period as the fourth chapter, but from the perspective of a different academic community. Paul first situates the community of academic musicology within the context of its nineteenth-century origins: Guido Adler and the European art music tradition. Mid-twentieth-century Ives scholars largely employed methodologies rooted in this tradition, producing scholarship in the forms of compositional analyses, descriptive catalogs, and critical editions.

Paul ends his reception history in 2004 with the fiftieth anniversary of Ives's death. The final chapter, titled "Ives at Century's Turn," features a wide range of Ives interpreters and activities. Some of them clearly elaborate upon existing mythologized interpretations of the composer. A prime example is the "American Mavericks" performance series, spearheaded by conductor Michael Tilson Thomas, which excites nationalism reminiscent of the Cold War era to appeal to American audiences. By contrast, Jan Swafford's 1996 biography aims to clarify rather than perpetuate interpretations of the composer popularized by earlier interpretive communities (Charles hies: A Life with Music [New York: W. W. Norton, 1996]).

Throughout the book, Paul reinforces his authorial design "to remain quiet" and to differentiate various renderings of Ives without implying a value judgment. He saves his personal voice for the postscript, "So What Do You Think about Ives?" Here he personally calls for "broadening the purview of discourse" across institutionalized academia. Paul's interest in scholarly communities over popular communities is evidenced by his bibliography, which consists almost exclusively of academically-geared monographs and journals as opposed to primary and archival references. He has clearly embraced the traditional Adlerian approach to musicology in his study of history as criticism via the available published sources. At times, the book reads like a daunting, chaotic whirlwind of intellectual names (people, titles, movements, creeds, venues) that overpowers the chronological structure promised to the reader in the introduction. At its best, it documents with incredible detail the intricately related and dynamic players in American intellectual thought of the past two centuries.

Stepping back from Paul's intention, let us return to the metaphor of the mirror, which, like the Ives legacy, is bound up with many diverse and contradictory interpretations. Sometimes, the concept of the mirror causes us to think about temporality. By nature, the mirror demands the mental focus and physical presence of a self-conscious mind and body. At other times, the concept of the mirror causes us to think about veracity. A mirror can be a signifier of truth in that it functions with technical impartiality, reflecting light according to the laws of physics. Conversely, a mirror can represent an illusion, a ghost, an intangible image not grounded in the physical realm. A mirror can be a trick, showing the inverse reflection of reality or distorting a reflected image through curvatures or irregularities in the glass.

In every scenario, the mirror image itself is voiceless, powerless to speak with autonomy. Its meaning is wholly dependent on the subjective gaze of the perceiver. Therefore, there is no single, dominant interpretation of the iconic composer, Charles Ives. Paul's closing bid for plurality targets the ears of institutionalized academics, a community with which Paul clearly identifies. He asks his readers to embrace and even celebrate subjectivity, both in their understanding of Ives as a historical figure and universally in history at large.

ROBIN PREISS

New York University