Search
Hazel (1853 KP) rated The Music Shop in Books
Dec 7, 2018
<i>This eBook was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review </i>
From the author of <i>The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry </i>comes a unique and beautiful story about music and learning how to listen. <i>The Music Shop</i> by Rachel Joyce takes readers on a journey through the developing music world of the late 1980s when CDs are beginning to wipe out all other means of recording music – a complete disaster for someone like Frank, the owner of the music shop, who only sells vinyl.
The book begins in 1988 in a crumbling down street where shopkeepers are barely making enough money to survive. Frank’s shop is one of the few remaining and, despite everything against him, is determined to keep going. Not only does he sell vinyl records, Frank has an empathetic gift allowing him to sense exactly what a customer needs to listen to, even though they may not realise it themselves. However, one day, Frank’s world is turned upside down by the arrival of a young German woman, Ilse Brauchmann, who faints on his doorstep.
Ilse intrigues all of the shopkeepers on Unity Street, particularly Frank’s teenaged assistant, Kit. Although Frank tries to deny it, Ilse also fascinates him to the point that he is rarely thinking of anything else. But what concerns him most is that he cannot pinpoint what piece of music she ought to listen to. When questioned, Ilse admits she knows nothing about music and begs Frank to give her lessons. These lessons have nothing to do with instruments – Frank is the least qualified to teach such a thing – but about how to listen to music. How to hear the pauses in classical pieces; understand the meaning behind Beethoven’s sonatas; feel the passion behind punk music; learn to love a number of composers for the things many people miss.
The longer Frank spends around Ilse, the more he begins to fall in love. However, love is something Frank denies himself ever since the death of his mother fifteen years previously. Written in italics are flashback chapters explaining how Frank’s love of music came about, his relationship with his mother, and how he ended up as a dead-end vinyl seller. Due to his fear of intimate relationships, Frank keeps pushing Ilse away until, one day, he realises how much he needs her. But, he may have left it too late.
<i>The Music Shop</i> is split into four sections, or sides (a reference to vinyl records). Side A introduces the characters and settings during a wintery January when Frank is beginning to struggle with the competition caused by the recently opened Woolworths on the nearby high street. Sides B and C focus on the development of Frank and Ilse’s friendship, the secrets they hide from each other and the foreboding sense of disaster hanging over the one-of-a-kind music shop.
As Frank begins to realise how much Ilse means to him, the sudden appearance of side D will break readers’ hearts. Whilst sides A, B and C take place in 1988, side D jumps forward 21 years to 2009. It appears Frank and Ilse never got the relationship they deserved. Two unhappy decades have been and gone, demolishing any resemblance of the way life used to be. However, because there is a side D, readers can only hope it will result in a happy ending.
<i>The Music Shop</i> is a love story between two quiet, modest characters whose past and present circumstances get in the way of a peaceful future. However, it is not only a piece of romantic fiction. Rachel Joyce writes a message in story format about second chances and being brave. Learning to listen does not only apply to music, it applies to hearing what other people are saying and what they are not; most importantly, the book urges people to listen to themselves.
The research undertaken for this novel is phenomenal. For starters, it is set almost thirty years ago when vinyl was only beginning to go out of fashion. The quality of music and the access people had to it was extremely different to the simplicity of today where it is possible to download everything at the press of a button. The breadth of music genre is as wide as possible. Every type of music is covered from Handel’s <i>Messiah</i> to Aretha Franklin and The Sex Pistols. To be able to discuss such a range without falling into stereotypes is a feat worthy of congratulating.
<i>The Music Shop</i> far surpasses anything Rachel Joyce has written so far. The story is fragile in a beautiful way, its delicacy causing the reader to treat it with care, rather than rush through it like some mundane piece of fiction. It will interest a whole host of readers: male and female, music lovers and those with a preference for silence. Whoever you are, be prepared to take something away from this distinctive, outstanding novel.
From the author of <i>The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry </i>comes a unique and beautiful story about music and learning how to listen. <i>The Music Shop</i> by Rachel Joyce takes readers on a journey through the developing music world of the late 1980s when CDs are beginning to wipe out all other means of recording music – a complete disaster for someone like Frank, the owner of the music shop, who only sells vinyl.
The book begins in 1988 in a crumbling down street where shopkeepers are barely making enough money to survive. Frank’s shop is one of the few remaining and, despite everything against him, is determined to keep going. Not only does he sell vinyl records, Frank has an empathetic gift allowing him to sense exactly what a customer needs to listen to, even though they may not realise it themselves. However, one day, Frank’s world is turned upside down by the arrival of a young German woman, Ilse Brauchmann, who faints on his doorstep.
Ilse intrigues all of the shopkeepers on Unity Street, particularly Frank’s teenaged assistant, Kit. Although Frank tries to deny it, Ilse also fascinates him to the point that he is rarely thinking of anything else. But what concerns him most is that he cannot pinpoint what piece of music she ought to listen to. When questioned, Ilse admits she knows nothing about music and begs Frank to give her lessons. These lessons have nothing to do with instruments – Frank is the least qualified to teach such a thing – but about how to listen to music. How to hear the pauses in classical pieces; understand the meaning behind Beethoven’s sonatas; feel the passion behind punk music; learn to love a number of composers for the things many people miss.
The longer Frank spends around Ilse, the more he begins to fall in love. However, love is something Frank denies himself ever since the death of his mother fifteen years previously. Written in italics are flashback chapters explaining how Frank’s love of music came about, his relationship with his mother, and how he ended up as a dead-end vinyl seller. Due to his fear of intimate relationships, Frank keeps pushing Ilse away until, one day, he realises how much he needs her. But, he may have left it too late.
<i>The Music Shop</i> is split into four sections, or sides (a reference to vinyl records). Side A introduces the characters and settings during a wintery January when Frank is beginning to struggle with the competition caused by the recently opened Woolworths on the nearby high street. Sides B and C focus on the development of Frank and Ilse’s friendship, the secrets they hide from each other and the foreboding sense of disaster hanging over the one-of-a-kind music shop.
As Frank begins to realise how much Ilse means to him, the sudden appearance of side D will break readers’ hearts. Whilst sides A, B and C take place in 1988, side D jumps forward 21 years to 2009. It appears Frank and Ilse never got the relationship they deserved. Two unhappy decades have been and gone, demolishing any resemblance of the way life used to be. However, because there is a side D, readers can only hope it will result in a happy ending.
<i>The Music Shop</i> is a love story between two quiet, modest characters whose past and present circumstances get in the way of a peaceful future. However, it is not only a piece of romantic fiction. Rachel Joyce writes a message in story format about second chances and being brave. Learning to listen does not only apply to music, it applies to hearing what other people are saying and what they are not; most importantly, the book urges people to listen to themselves.
The research undertaken for this novel is phenomenal. For starters, it is set almost thirty years ago when vinyl was only beginning to go out of fashion. The quality of music and the access people had to it was extremely different to the simplicity of today where it is possible to download everything at the press of a button. The breadth of music genre is as wide as possible. Every type of music is covered from Handel’s <i>Messiah</i> to Aretha Franklin and The Sex Pistols. To be able to discuss such a range without falling into stereotypes is a feat worthy of congratulating.
<i>The Music Shop</i> far surpasses anything Rachel Joyce has written so far. The story is fragile in a beautiful way, its delicacy causing the reader to treat it with care, rather than rush through it like some mundane piece of fiction. It will interest a whole host of readers: male and female, music lovers and those with a preference for silence. Whoever you are, be prepared to take something away from this distinctive, outstanding novel.
Bob Mann (459 KP) rated Misbehaviour (2020) in Movies
Sep 28, 2021
A film guide on how to sit on the fence.
It’s only 50 years ago, but the timeframe of Misbehaviour feels like a very different world. Although only 9 years old in 1970, I remember sitting around the tele with my family to enjoy the regular Eric and Julia Morley ‘cattle market’ of girls parading in national dress and swimsuits. We were not alone. At its peak in the 70’s over 18 million Britons watched the show (not surprising bearing in mind there were only three channels to choose from in 1970… no streaming… no video players… not even smartphones to distract you!)
The background.
“Misbehaviour” tells the story of this eventful 1970 Miss World competition. It was eventful for a number of reasons: the Women’s Lib movement was rising in popularity, and the event was disrupted a flour-bombing group of women in the audience; the compere Bob Hope did an appallingly misjudged and mysoginistic routine that died a death; and, after significant pressure against the apartheid regime in South Africa, the country surprised the world by sending two entrants to the show – one white (Miss South Africa) and one black (Miss Africa South).
The movie charts the events leading up to that night and some of the fallout that resulted from it.
A strong ensemble cast.
“Misbehaviour” has a great cast.
Leading the women are posh-girl Sally Alexander (Keira Knightley) and punk-girl Jo Robinson (Jessie Buckley). I’m normally a big fan of both of these ladies. But here I never felt either of them connected particularly well with their characters. In particular, Buckley (although delivering as a similar maverick in “Wild Rose“) always felt a bit forced and out of place here.
On the event organisation side is Rhys Ifans, almost unrecognisable as Eric Morley, and Keeley Hawes as Julia Morley. Ifans gets the mannerisms of the impresario spot-on (as illustrated by some real-life footage shown at the end of the film). Also splendid is funny-man Miles Jupp as their “fixer” Clive.
Less successful for me was Greg Kinnear as Bob Hope. Hope clearly has such an unusual moon-shaped face that it’s difficult to find anyone to cast as a lookalike.
Just who is exploiting who here?
There’s no question in my mind that the event, in retrospect, is obscenely inappropriate – even though, bizarrely, it still runs to this day. But my biggest problem with the movie is that it never seems to pin its colours to any particular mast. It clearly illustrates the inappropriateness of Hope’s off-colour jokes and the instruction from host Michael Aspel (Charlie Anson), asking the swimsuit models to “show their rear view” to the audience, is gobsmackingly crass.
However, the script then takes a sympathetic view to the candidates from Grenada, South Africa, etc. who are clearly ‘using their bodies’ to get a leg-up to fame and fortune back in their home countries. (Final scenes showing the woman today, clearly affluent and happy, doesn’t help with that!)
As such, the movie sits magnificently on the fence and never reaches a ‘verdict’.
The racial sub-story.
Equally problematic is the really fascinating racial sub-story: this was an event, held in a UK that was racially far less tolerant than it is today, where no black person had EVER won. Indeed, a win was in most peoples’ eyes unthinkable. This was a time when “black lives didn’t matter”. Here we have Miss Grenada (an excellent Gugu Mbatha-Raw) and the utterly captivating Miss Africa South (a debut performance by Loreece Harrison) threatening to turn the tables . There was surely potential to get a lot more value out of this aspect of the story, but it is generally un-mined.
Perhaps a problem here is that there is so much story potential around this one historical event that there is just too much to fit comfortably into one screenplay. The writers Rebecca Frayn and Gaby Chiappe end up just giving a few bursts on the liquidizer and getting a slightly grey mush.
Nostalgia – it’s not what it used to be.
All this is not to say the movie was a write off. It’s a perfectly pleasant watch and for those (like me) of a certain age, the throwback fashions, vehicles and attitudes deliver a burst of nostalgia for the flawed but rose-coloured days of my first decade on the planet.
But it all feels like a bit of a missed opportunity to properly tackle either one of the two key issues highlighted in the script. As a female-led project (the director is Philippa Lowthorpe) I really wanted this to be good. But I’m afraid for me it’s all a bit “meh”.
If asked “would you like to watch that again?”… I would probably, politely, show my rear view and decline.
The background.
“Misbehaviour” tells the story of this eventful 1970 Miss World competition. It was eventful for a number of reasons: the Women’s Lib movement was rising in popularity, and the event was disrupted a flour-bombing group of women in the audience; the compere Bob Hope did an appallingly misjudged and mysoginistic routine that died a death; and, after significant pressure against the apartheid regime in South Africa, the country surprised the world by sending two entrants to the show – one white (Miss South Africa) and one black (Miss Africa South).
The movie charts the events leading up to that night and some of the fallout that resulted from it.
A strong ensemble cast.
“Misbehaviour” has a great cast.
Leading the women are posh-girl Sally Alexander (Keira Knightley) and punk-girl Jo Robinson (Jessie Buckley). I’m normally a big fan of both of these ladies. But here I never felt either of them connected particularly well with their characters. In particular, Buckley (although delivering as a similar maverick in “Wild Rose“) always felt a bit forced and out of place here.
On the event organisation side is Rhys Ifans, almost unrecognisable as Eric Morley, and Keeley Hawes as Julia Morley. Ifans gets the mannerisms of the impresario spot-on (as illustrated by some real-life footage shown at the end of the film). Also splendid is funny-man Miles Jupp as their “fixer” Clive.
Less successful for me was Greg Kinnear as Bob Hope. Hope clearly has such an unusual moon-shaped face that it’s difficult to find anyone to cast as a lookalike.
Just who is exploiting who here?
There’s no question in my mind that the event, in retrospect, is obscenely inappropriate – even though, bizarrely, it still runs to this day. But my biggest problem with the movie is that it never seems to pin its colours to any particular mast. It clearly illustrates the inappropriateness of Hope’s off-colour jokes and the instruction from host Michael Aspel (Charlie Anson), asking the swimsuit models to “show their rear view” to the audience, is gobsmackingly crass.
However, the script then takes a sympathetic view to the candidates from Grenada, South Africa, etc. who are clearly ‘using their bodies’ to get a leg-up to fame and fortune back in their home countries. (Final scenes showing the woman today, clearly affluent and happy, doesn’t help with that!)
As such, the movie sits magnificently on the fence and never reaches a ‘verdict’.
The racial sub-story.
Equally problematic is the really fascinating racial sub-story: this was an event, held in a UK that was racially far less tolerant than it is today, where no black person had EVER won. Indeed, a win was in most peoples’ eyes unthinkable. This was a time when “black lives didn’t matter”. Here we have Miss Grenada (an excellent Gugu Mbatha-Raw) and the utterly captivating Miss Africa South (a debut performance by Loreece Harrison) threatening to turn the tables . There was surely potential to get a lot more value out of this aspect of the story, but it is generally un-mined.
Perhaps a problem here is that there is so much story potential around this one historical event that there is just too much to fit comfortably into one screenplay. The writers Rebecca Frayn and Gaby Chiappe end up just giving a few bursts on the liquidizer and getting a slightly grey mush.
Nostalgia – it’s not what it used to be.
All this is not to say the movie was a write off. It’s a perfectly pleasant watch and for those (like me) of a certain age, the throwback fashions, vehicles and attitudes deliver a burst of nostalgia for the flawed but rose-coloured days of my first decade on the planet.
But it all feels like a bit of a missed opportunity to properly tackle either one of the two key issues highlighted in the script. As a female-led project (the director is Philippa Lowthorpe) I really wanted this to be good. But I’m afraid for me it’s all a bit “meh”.
If asked “would you like to watch that again?”… I would probably, politely, show my rear view and decline.