Death of a Salesman (Not Again), Benjamin Grosvenor
Didn’t see Death of a Salesman at Belvoir for the second time today – and I had a free second ticket (for buying a full season ticket, you get one extra to a show of your choice) as well. I was tossing up whether to go and see it again or not – have been all week – and then I realised last night that if I’ve been spending so much time debating with myself whether I can be bothered to go again or not, then I can’t be super-excited to see it once more. That is, if I really wanted to see it again, I wouldn’t even be doubting whether I should go, and so the doubt became the argument against it.
This applies to my definition of ‘genius’ or ‘masterpiece’ as well, I think. If I have to try and convince myself that something I’ve read/seen is worthy of my calling it ‘genius’, then it can’t be ‘genius’, because I obviously had doubts. I think this doubt-argument applies to Cloud Atlas at the moment, though it’s certainly way up there in the Literature stakes.
Saw Benjamin Grosvenor, British piano prodigy, tonight in the Utzon Room. Got a free glass of wine beforehand. Beforehand! I don’t think that’s ever happened to me. And everyone got one – you got a glass on the way into the room, and could finish it off during the concert, if you so desired. As for the concert – pretty darn good, pretty darn good. Almost coughed, but saved myself by sipping water every five or ten seconds for a couple of minutes or so.
304/529 in Cloud Atlas at the time of this post.
