Alberich is a character in Richard Wagner’s Ring Cycle—a fifteen-hour operatic extravaganza of gods and goddesses, heroes, warrior princesses, giants, mine-dwelling dwarves, and aquatic Rhinemaidens.
No, he is a great historical novelist but unfortunately (and surprisingly) his books have not been translated in other languages.
This is a dutch language review that I put into the translator for you:
An Eight-Year-Old in Search of the Truth
[Review]
Arthur Japin’s novel *Kolja* is about an eight-year-old deaf-mute boy who is taken in by the brothers Modest and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. As a music lover, this piques my interest, especially since the blurb on the back cover tells me that when the composer Pyotr Ilyich dies, Kolya immediately questions the official cause of death.
To put it briefly: Tchaikovsky is said to have officially died of cholera. However, there are reasonable doubts about this. There was a cholera epidemic at the time, and the regulations were well-known and quite strict. One of them was that you were only to drink boiled water. Tchaikovsky is said to have drunk unboiled water from a glass in an unguarded moment, either at a renowned restaurant or (once again) at home.
Deaf-Mute
Back to the story. Kolya, or Nikolai Hermanovich Konradi, is the son of wealthy parents and is deaf-mute. Modest Tchaikovsky, the brother of composer Pyotr Ilyich, is approached by the parents to teach him to read and write. After all, he will one day have to manage the estates, and those skills will be indispensable.
Kolya is taken to Lyon, France, where the Hugentobler couple runs an institute that helps deaf, deaf-mute, and blind children function better. They use strict methods, but are often successful—including with Kolya. He learns to speak and understand other people by reading their lips.
This story, which centers on Kolya’s youth, is told through the notes of Modest Tchaikovsky. It alternates with the present-day narrative, in which Pyotr Ilyich has just passed away and Kolya does not trust the stories he hears about it. He sets out to investigate.
He seeks information from Tchaikovsky’s personal physician, from friends, and from Tchaikovsky’s classmates at the School of Law, where Tchaikovsky studied. Those classmates, in particular, turn out to be an illustrious group, and Kolya senses that matters were agreed upon there that are meant to remain under wraps. He also pays a visit to Diaghilev, the later-famous ballet impresario and a friend of Tchaikovsky’s at the time. Together they discuss the death of “Petya”:
“‘That whole cholera story—don’t you find anything strange about it at all?’
‘I have to admit… there’s more and more about the whole affair that I don’t understand.’
Reading, Speaking, Writing
The storyline from the past continues until Kolya can read, speak, and write and becomes increasingly independent. By this time, his father has divorced his mother and has passed away. His mother is no longer happy about Kolya’s contact with the Tchaikovsky brothers, who are now staying with Kolya on his estate. Kolya himself also becomes rebellious. He argues more often with Modest:
“‘Just as you’ve awakened my longing for words. Just as we toiled for that! Would I have been happier if I’d stayed in my isolation and never known words—is that what you’re trying to say now?’
‘Not everything always revolves around you.’
“‘It does in your life. You live in my house, you live off my money—do you now have to suck your inspiration out of me as well?’”
Protection from the Tsar
A rift develops, and it grows to the point where their paths diverge. In the present, preparations are being made for the funeral. Through his research, Kolya discovers which direction to look in. Letters have been written that could get Tchaikovsky into trouble. This has to do with the homosexual lifestyle he leads, which could easily result in a stay in a labor camp in Siberia—not just for him, but for his partners as well. He enjoys the Tsar’s protection, but there are other factors at play that render that protection of little help in this case.
“I’d think so! Why, for example, would he drink from a pitcher? Have you ever seen Petya without his mineral water, without his ever-present Vichy? […] Unboiled water, no less, and in this day and age—something no restaurant would dare serve anyway.”
Diaghilev is one of the few who also voices his doubts. As for the rest, Kolja is told to let it go—which, of course, he doesn’t do.
To find out, you’ll have to read the book yourself. What Japin does so skillfully—as he also does in his novel *Vaslav*—is blend fact with fiction. He presents well-known events, such as Tchaikovsky’s death, from the perspective of a person who actually existed—in this case, Kolya. We know that his death continues to raise questions to this day. Japin weaves a story around this, depicting how it might have happened, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s succeeded. I simply take it as fact.
Very, very, interesting. Tchaikovsky's death has been in controversy for decades, but it has been pretty much decided in academic circles that his death was from drinking unboiled water, not the "suicide by tribunal" version. But I still personally have my doubts...I may buy this book and have AI translate the whole thing, although fiction, it could be interesting...
In 20 years of midwifery practice, during which many women chose to reveal aspects of their private lives, I encountered far more women who were sexually unsatisfied than sexually overburdened m. They reported - and the theme was pretty consistent - men who were disinterested in normal sex, or sometimes any sex, or men whose repertoire simply had no place for pleasing someone other than themselves, or who preferred fetish and/or pornography to reality. Often these women were accused of being "too masculine", as the trope of a woman having bona fide sexual needs was somehow forbidden - back to echoes of the archetypal whore/virgin split!
In my practice, when a man says “my wife doesn’t want sex,” the problem is rarely located where he thinks it is. He treats her lack of receptivity as a fact about her — her libido, her body, her mood, her feminism, her age. More often it is a fact about his kingship: whether he is occupying an inner seat of authority, presence, and containment, or whether he is approaching her as a boy looking for proof that he still exists.
He usually cannot name why she is not open to him. He also usually cannot name what he is actually after. It is not an orgasm. It is the experience of being desired by her. Sex is the vehicle; the cargo is confirmation. That is an anima problem dressed up as a bedroom problem. He is asking her body to do the work his own inner King has not done.
Women do not, as a rule, desire a man who has not taken up that seat. They may stay, manage the household, even comply. Desire is another matter. Desire answers to a man who is gathered in himself — not dominating, not collapsing, not lobbying her for regulation. We have seen very little of that King in the culture for at least twenty years, and more honestly for something closer to seventy-five. When the King is absent, the marriage often becomes a negotiation between a hungry boy and a woman who has had to become her own authority. In that arrangement, her “no” is not a mystery. It is the psyche telling the truth.
As expected, an excellent article! In addition to enjoying reading it, I have learned a whole bunch about the psychology of love-sex... and Wagner.
I will confess that when I was very young, I watched some recorded version of a Wagner opera, listened to a couple of his orchestral works, and based on that very small sample, decided that I did not like Wagner. My decision became "validated" when I learned that Hitler was fond of Wagner, and recognized him as the legit German composer.
Thanks to this article, and some other Wagnerian references I have read in your articles - Todd - I promise that I will be revising my views about Wagner. I will have to start listening to his music, and watch a couple operas.
You can certainly hate Wagner the man, he was an anti-semite ass...a toad of a person. That is actually one of the most fascinating things about him, how could such an ugly person have such incredible insight on the human condition in his music? Particularly his operas?
I can also see why anyone would not like his music...many people do not. It is very heavy, thick, complicated...etc. But when you see how he uses it to tell a story, it is genius.
Paulus, I am not so sure about an advantage for gay men. I am not a man or gay but I know several and believe me they have many issues around sex and love too.
I think I can agree, although I don't know...gay men have their share of similar issues...in fact, the whole anima projection thing they have just as bad, only they see the anima in their love interests...look at Tchaikovsky...a gay composer whose anima idolization nearly killed him...I am currently writing a book about this..."Tchaikovsky's Women: The Soul's Pursuit of Forbidden Love"...it is quite fascinating.
No, he is a great historical novelist but unfortunately (and surprisingly) his books have not been translated in other languages.
This is a dutch language review that I put into the translator for you:
An Eight-Year-Old in Search of the Truth
[Review]
Arthur Japin’s novel *Kolja* is about an eight-year-old deaf-mute boy who is taken in by the brothers Modest and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. As a music lover, this piques my interest, especially since the blurb on the back cover tells me that when the composer Pyotr Ilyich dies, Kolya immediately questions the official cause of death.
To put it briefly: Tchaikovsky is said to have officially died of cholera. However, there are reasonable doubts about this. There was a cholera epidemic at the time, and the regulations were well-known and quite strict. One of them was that you were only to drink boiled water. Tchaikovsky is said to have drunk unboiled water from a glass in an unguarded moment, either at a renowned restaurant or (once again) at home.
Deaf-Mute
Back to the story. Kolya, or Nikolai Hermanovich Konradi, is the son of wealthy parents and is deaf-mute. Modest Tchaikovsky, the brother of composer Pyotr Ilyich, is approached by the parents to teach him to read and write. After all, he will one day have to manage the estates, and those skills will be indispensable.
Kolya is taken to Lyon, France, where the Hugentobler couple runs an institute that helps deaf, deaf-mute, and blind children function better. They use strict methods, but are often successful—including with Kolya. He learns to speak and understand other people by reading their lips.
This story, which centers on Kolya’s youth, is told through the notes of Modest Tchaikovsky. It alternates with the present-day narrative, in which Pyotr Ilyich has just passed away and Kolya does not trust the stories he hears about it. He sets out to investigate.
He seeks information from Tchaikovsky’s personal physician, from friends, and from Tchaikovsky’s classmates at the School of Law, where Tchaikovsky studied. Those classmates, in particular, turn out to be an illustrious group, and Kolya senses that matters were agreed upon there that are meant to remain under wraps. He also pays a visit to Diaghilev, the later-famous ballet impresario and a friend of Tchaikovsky’s at the time. Together they discuss the death of “Petya”:
“‘That whole cholera story—don’t you find anything strange about it at all?’
‘I have to admit… there’s more and more about the whole affair that I don’t understand.’
Reading, Speaking, Writing
The storyline from the past continues until Kolya can read, speak, and write and becomes increasingly independent. By this time, his father has divorced his mother and has passed away. His mother is no longer happy about Kolya’s contact with the Tchaikovsky brothers, who are now staying with Kolya on his estate. Kolya himself also becomes rebellious. He argues more often with Modest:
“‘Just as you’ve awakened my longing for words. Just as we toiled for that! Would I have been happier if I’d stayed in my isolation and never known words—is that what you’re trying to say now?’
‘Not everything always revolves around you.’
“‘It does in your life. You live in my house, you live off my money—do you now have to suck your inspiration out of me as well?’”
Protection from the Tsar
A rift develops, and it grows to the point where their paths diverge. In the present, preparations are being made for the funeral. Through his research, Kolya discovers which direction to look in. Letters have been written that could get Tchaikovsky into trouble. This has to do with the homosexual lifestyle he leads, which could easily result in a stay in a labor camp in Siberia—not just for him, but for his partners as well. He enjoys the Tsar’s protection, but there are other factors at play that render that protection of little help in this case.
“I’d think so! Why, for example, would he drink from a pitcher? Have you ever seen Petya without his mineral water, without his ever-present Vichy? […] Unboiled water, no less, and in this day and age—something no restaurant would dare serve anyway.”
Diaghilev is one of the few who also voices his doubts. As for the rest, Kolja is told to let it go—which, of course, he doesn’t do.
To find out, you’ll have to read the book yourself. What Japin does so skillfully—as he also does in his novel *Vaslav*—is blend fact with fiction. He presents well-known events, such as Tchaikovsky’s death, from the perspective of a person who actually existed—in this case, Kolya. We know that his death continues to raise questions to this day. Japin weaves a story around this, depicting how it might have happened, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s succeeded. I simply take it as fact.
No, he is a great historical novelist but unfortunately (and surprisingly) his books have not been translated in other languages.
This is a dutch language review that I put into the translator for you:
An Eight-Year-Old in Search of the Truth
[Review]
Arthur Japin’s novel *Kolja* is about an eight-year-old deaf-mute boy who is taken in by the brothers Modest and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. As a music lover, this piques my interest, especially since the blurb on the back cover tells me that when the composer Pyotr Ilyich dies, Kolya immediately questions the official cause of death.
To put it briefly: Tchaikovsky is said to have officially died of cholera. However, there are reasonable doubts about this. There was a cholera epidemic at the time, and the regulations were well-known and quite strict. One of them was that you were only to drink boiled water. Tchaikovsky is said to have drunk unboiled water from a glass in an unguarded moment, either at a renowned restaurant or (once again) at home.
Deaf-Mute
Back to the story. Kolya, or Nikolai Hermanovich Konradi, is the son of wealthy parents and is deaf-mute. Modest Tchaikovsky, the brother of composer Pyotr Ilyich, is approached by the parents to teach him to read and write. After all, he will one day have to manage the estates, and those skills will be indispensable.
Kolya is taken to Lyon, France, where the Hugentobler couple runs an institute that helps deaf, deaf-mute, and blind children function better. They use strict methods, but are often successful—including with Kolya. He learns to speak and understand other people by reading their lips.
This story, which centers on Kolya’s youth, is told through the notes of Modest Tchaikovsky. It alternates with the present-day narrative, in which Pyotr Ilyich has just passed away and Kolya does not trust the stories he hears about it. He sets out to investigate.
He seeks information from Tchaikovsky’s personal physician, from friends, and from Tchaikovsky’s classmates at the School of Law, where Tchaikovsky studied. Those classmates, in particular, turn out to be an illustrious group, and Kolya senses that matters were agreed upon there that are meant to remain under wraps. He also pays a visit to Diaghilev, the later-famous ballet impresario and a friend of Tchaikovsky’s at the time. Together they discuss the death of “Petya”:
“‘That whole cholera story—don’t you find anything strange about it at all?’
‘I have to admit… there’s more and more about the whole affair that I don’t understand.’
Reading, Speaking, Writing
The storyline from the past continues until Kolya can read, speak, and write and becomes increasingly independent. By this time, his father has divorced his mother and has passed away. His mother is no longer happy about Kolya’s contact with the Tchaikovsky brothers, who are now staying with Kolya on his estate. Kolya himself also becomes rebellious. He argues more often with Modest:
“‘Just as you’ve awakened my longing for words. Just as we toiled for that! Would I have been happier if I’d stayed in my isolation and never known words—is that what you’re trying to say now?’
‘Not everything always revolves around you.’
“‘It does in your life. You live in my house, you live off my money—do you now have to suck your inspiration out of me as well?’”
Protection from the Tsar
A rift develops, and it grows to the point where their paths diverge. In the present, preparations are being made for the funeral. Through his research, Kolya discovers which direction to look in. Letters have been written that could get Tchaikovsky into trouble. This has to do with the homosexual lifestyle he leads, which could easily result in a stay in a labor camp in Siberia—not just for him, but for his partners as well. He enjoys the Tsar’s protection, but there are other factors at play that render that protection of little help in this case.
“I’d think so! Why, for example, would he drink from a pitcher? Have you ever seen Petya without his mineral water, without his ever-present Vichy? […] Unboiled water, no less, and in this day and age—something no restaurant would dare serve anyway.”
Diaghilev is one of the few who also voices his doubts. As for the rest, Kolja is told to let it go—which, of course, he doesn’t do.
To find out, you’ll have to read the book yourself. What Japin does so skillfully—as he also does in his novel *Vaslav*—is blend fact with fiction. He presents well-known events, such as Tchaikovsky’s death, from the perspective of a person who actually existed—in this case, Kolya. We know that his death continues to raise questions to this day. Japin weaves a story around this, depicting how it might have happened, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s succeeded. I simply take it as fact.
Very, very, interesting. Tchaikovsky's death has been in controversy for decades, but it has been pretty much decided in academic circles that his death was from drinking unboiled water, not the "suicide by tribunal" version. But I still personally have my doubts...I may buy this book and have AI translate the whole thing, although fiction, it could be interesting...
There is a very thin line between fiction and non-fiction......
Feel free to contact me if you have additional quest about it.
In 20 years of midwifery practice, during which many women chose to reveal aspects of their private lives, I encountered far more women who were sexually unsatisfied than sexually overburdened m. They reported - and the theme was pretty consistent - men who were disinterested in normal sex, or sometimes any sex, or men whose repertoire simply had no place for pleasing someone other than themselves, or who preferred fetish and/or pornography to reality. Often these women were accused of being "too masculine", as the trope of a woman having bona fide sexual needs was somehow forbidden - back to echoes of the archetypal whore/virgin split!
In my practice, when a man says “my wife doesn’t want sex,” the problem is rarely located where he thinks it is. He treats her lack of receptivity as a fact about her — her libido, her body, her mood, her feminism, her age. More often it is a fact about his kingship: whether he is occupying an inner seat of authority, presence, and containment, or whether he is approaching her as a boy looking for proof that he still exists.
He usually cannot name why she is not open to him. He also usually cannot name what he is actually after. It is not an orgasm. It is the experience of being desired by her. Sex is the vehicle; the cargo is confirmation. That is an anima problem dressed up as a bedroom problem. He is asking her body to do the work his own inner King has not done.
Women do not, as a rule, desire a man who has not taken up that seat. They may stay, manage the household, even comply. Desire is another matter. Desire answers to a man who is gathered in himself — not dominating, not collapsing, not lobbying her for regulation. We have seen very little of that King in the culture for at least twenty years, and more honestly for something closer to seventy-five. When the King is absent, the marriage often becomes a negotiation between a hungry boy and a woman who has had to become her own authority. In that arrangement, her “no” is not a mystery. It is the psyche telling the truth.
As expected, an excellent article! In addition to enjoying reading it, I have learned a whole bunch about the psychology of love-sex... and Wagner.
I will confess that when I was very young, I watched some recorded version of a Wagner opera, listened to a couple of his orchestral works, and based on that very small sample, decided that I did not like Wagner. My decision became "validated" when I learned that Hitler was fond of Wagner, and recognized him as the legit German composer.
Thanks to this article, and some other Wagnerian references I have read in your articles - Todd - I promise that I will be revising my views about Wagner. I will have to start listening to his music, and watch a couple operas.
You can certainly hate Wagner the man, he was an anti-semite ass...a toad of a person. That is actually one of the most fascinating things about him, how could such an ugly person have such incredible insight on the human condition in his music? Particularly his operas?
I can also see why anyone would not like his music...many people do not. It is very heavy, thick, complicated...etc. But when you see how he uses it to tell a story, it is genius.
Sometimes I understand there can be an advantage in being a gay man, just sometimes.
Paulus, I am not so sure about an advantage for gay men. I am not a man or gay but I know several and believe me they have many issues around sex and love too.
I think I can agree, although I don't know...gay men have their share of similar issues...in fact, the whole anima projection thing they have just as bad, only they see the anima in their love interests...look at Tchaikovsky...a gay composer whose anima idolization nearly killed him...I am currently writing a book about this..."Tchaikovsky's Women: The Soul's Pursuit of Forbidden Love"...it is quite fascinating.
I fully agree and that's why the emphasis on 'sometimes'.
Fascinating book you are writing! Hope you keep us posted on the progress.
Recently read Kolja, a book by dutch author A. Japin about Kolja, the deaf boy the two (gay) brothers Tchaikovsky adopted.
Whoa! I have not heard of that. I must read it! Is it in English?
No, he is a great historical novelist but unfortunately (and surprisingly) his books have not been translated in other languages.
This is a dutch language review that I put into the translator for you:
An Eight-Year-Old in Search of the Truth
[Review]
Arthur Japin’s novel *Kolja* is about an eight-year-old deaf-mute boy who is taken in by the brothers Modest and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. As a music lover, this piques my interest, especially since the blurb on the back cover tells me that when the composer Pyotr Ilyich dies, Kolya immediately questions the official cause of death.
To put it briefly: Tchaikovsky is said to have officially died of cholera. However, there are reasonable doubts about this. There was a cholera epidemic at the time, and the regulations were well-known and quite strict. One of them was that you were only to drink boiled water. Tchaikovsky is said to have drunk unboiled water from a glass in an unguarded moment, either at a renowned restaurant or (once again) at home.
Deaf-Mute
Back to the story. Kolya, or Nikolai Hermanovich Konradi, is the son of wealthy parents and is deaf-mute. Modest Tchaikovsky, the brother of composer Pyotr Ilyich, is approached by the parents to teach him to read and write. After all, he will one day have to manage the estates, and those skills will be indispensable.
Kolya is taken to Lyon, France, where the Hugentobler couple runs an institute that helps deaf, deaf-mute, and blind children function better. They use strict methods, but are often successful—including with Kolya. He learns to speak and understand other people by reading their lips.
This story, which centers on Kolya’s youth, is told through the notes of Modest Tchaikovsky. It alternates with the present-day narrative, in which Pyotr Ilyich has just passed away and Kolya does not trust the stories he hears about it. He sets out to investigate.
He seeks information from Tchaikovsky’s personal physician, from friends, and from Tchaikovsky’s classmates at the School of Law, where Tchaikovsky studied. Those classmates, in particular, turn out to be an illustrious group, and Kolya senses that matters were agreed upon there that are meant to remain under wraps. He also pays a visit to Diaghilev, the later-famous ballet impresario and a friend of Tchaikovsky’s at the time. Together they discuss the death of “Petya”:
“‘That whole cholera story—don’t you find anything strange about it at all?’
‘I have to admit… there’s more and more about the whole affair that I don’t understand.’
Reading, Speaking, Writing
The storyline from the past continues until Kolya can read, speak, and write and becomes increasingly independent. By this time, his father has divorced his mother and has passed away. His mother is no longer happy about Kolya’s contact with the Tchaikovsky brothers, who are now staying with Kolya on his estate. Kolya himself also becomes rebellious. He argues more often with Modest:
“‘Just as you’ve awakened my longing for words. Just as we toiled for that! Would I have been happier if I’d stayed in my isolation and never known words—is that what you’re trying to say now?’
‘Not everything always revolves around you.’
“‘It does in your life. You live in my house, you live off my money—do you now have to suck your inspiration out of me as well?’”
Protection from the Tsar
A rift develops, and it grows to the point where their paths diverge. In the present, preparations are being made for the funeral. Through his research, Kolya discovers which direction to look in. Letters have been written that could get Tchaikovsky into trouble. This has to do with the homosexual lifestyle he leads, which could easily result in a stay in a labor camp in Siberia—not just for him, but for his partners as well. He enjoys the Tsar’s protection, but there are other factors at play that render that protection of little help in this case.
“I’d think so! Why, for example, would he drink from a pitcher? Have you ever seen Petya without his mineral water, without his ever-present Vichy? […] Unboiled water, no less, and in this day and age—something no restaurant would dare serve anyway.”
Diaghilev is one of the few who also voices his doubts. As for the rest, Kolja is told to let it go—which, of course, he doesn’t do.
To find out, you’ll have to read the book yourself. What Japin does so skillfully—as he also does in his novel *Vaslav*—is blend fact with fiction. He presents well-known events, such as Tchaikovsky’s death, from the perspective of a person who actually existed—in this case, Kolya. We know that his death continues to raise questions to this day. Japin weaves a story around this, depicting how it might have happened, and as far as I’m concerned, he’s succeeded. I simply take it as fact.
Thanks for that interpretation of Wagner. By chance I caught bits of a series of Joseph Campbell interviews by Bill Moyers and sought online copy. https://billmoyers.com/series/joseph-campbell-and-the-power-of-myth-1988/ offers links to transcripts for each episode and https://archive.org/details/power_of_myth offers MP4 audiovideo downloads.