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Antonin Dvorak, My Father

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It seems almost by chance that Paul Polansky has been able to capture the exact frame of Anton?n Dvoř?k's that is of most interest to us today. That one of Dvoř?k's children would have written substantial memoirs of his father that had gone unfound for so many years is remarkable, but that this child was also the one who's window of memory match the composer's rise to fame is sublimely fortuitous. As Otakar ages through the course of the book and his memories become more detailed and rich, so rises his father's fame and stature in the world. Otakar becomes almost a symbol for his father's emergence in the history of music.

Although this book's publication has been limited, it clearly paints a picture of Dvoř?k that is more personal, more humanizing than other tomes about the composer. It is perhaps this human element, this treatment of Dvoř?k not as an eccentric genius, but as an individual like any other, who happened to have had a musical talent of monumental proportion. Perhaps it is this "everyday" perception of Dvoř?k that makes this book so unpopular with music scholars today. This treatment of the composer leads to some uncomfortable questions-if Dvoř?k was such an ordinary man in upbringing and personality, then why are there not scores of Dvoř?k's today?

The book's reception aside, Otakar's reminiscences are fresh and vibrant, they make it possible for the reader to actually imagine what the daily life of the composer was probably like; how he truly felt in Prague, New York, Vysok?, and Spillville; what his family life was really like. Granted, all memories are slanted by their hosts, and those of Otakar of his father are no exception, but where Otakar misplaces years and events he makes up for with precious accounts of interactions his father had with himself and others, and a general mood associated with places and times. This value of Otakar's experience is both promoted and hindered by Polansky. His corrections of misremembered material details and clarifications of unclear references in the form of footnotes are often useful, but they are just as often heavy-handed or dismissive of Otakar's legitimate expertise on his father. While it is important that we realize that the eyewitness accounts in the book are coming from a rather young child, we need not be reminded of this at every instance where the interpretation of events diverges from that of the editor.

The only truly uninteresting part of this book is the lengthy introduction and forward, which provide a rather inconsequential series of anecdotes detailing how the editor uncovered Otakar's unknown memoirs. Although this provides some genealogy of the composer and adds some local color to his old haunts in Bohemia, this section is rather drawn-out and adds little to Otakar's accounts. Although Polansky's work was substantial to bring us this volume, he need not describe his every footfall in the Czech Republic.

Paul Polansky has done a first-rate job. "Antonin Dvorak, My Father" gives insights into Dvorak's life that can only come from somebody who was so close to the man himself. Polansky is a seasoned researcher, and the quality of his scholarship shines through the whole book.