angels and visitations…

Tuesday, January 4th, 2011

Angels and Visitations by Rautavaara © Ondine


detail from The Garden of Earthly Delights by Hieronymous Bosch

When I am ‘actually’ writing I rarely listen to music, finding that its rhythms can interfere with those of the prose I am composing. However, when I am working on planning I often have something on in the background. I use playlists to accompany general ‘thinking’ – Harold Budd, Brian Eno, etc – and much baroque – Bach, Rameau, Couperin, Byrd etc. During more intense ‘thinking’ I might listen to Tangerine Dream, Piazzolla, Varese, Philip Glass.

When more focused on actual scenes, I have developed a habit of assembling pieces into a ‘soundtrack’: sometimes music that represents a specific theme or character in a process somewhat analogous to Wagner’s leitmotifs; or that I use to accompany a particular chapter. It is one of these last that I would like to present here.

Angels and Visitations is by the Finnish composer Einojuhani Rautavaara, one of several modern composers that I have found myself gravitating towards more and more as I have grown older. He creates soundscapes that I find exquisitely atmospheric and that mesh fruitfully with the images in my mind.

I listen to all my music from hard disks and have been unable to find the original CD with its booklet, however, what I remember (perhaps erroneously) is that Rautavaara wrote this piece as a reaction to a time when he was lying ill and perceived an angel to be standing at the foot of his bed; a being that utterly terrified him. This story found strange resonance with the Masters in my Stone Dance trilogy who consider themselves angels and are a terror to those they rule. Angels and Visitations formed part of a particular constellation of themes, but became the dominant soundtrack for the chapter Blood Gate in my book The Third God in which my trilogy reaches a final crisis of the utmost violence and atrocity.

Angels and Visitations is in itself a drama that it seems to me could only have been written post Freud. For beneath its Hieronymous Bosch surface (The Garden of Earthly Delights perhaps?) I sense there moves the leviathan of what Jung would call our collective unconscious, so that this piece does with sound what I feel works of fantasy seek to do with words.

(I have included a link above (and here) to Angels and Visitations because it seems to me rather pointless to discuss a piece of music without it being possible to listen to it. I realize that this may be seen as breaching copyright, however, I do this with the hope that it may cause people to go out and buy some Rautuvaara and thus that what I am actually doing is promoting his work)

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entrevista com Diário de Notícias…

Friday, July 16th, 2010

Isto é uma entrevista que dei ao Diário de Notícias de 22/5/10… não é fácil ler o artigo assim, mas o texto também está aqui… As fotos foram tiradas num daqueles dias de chuva em maio – e estava muito frio – deve ser por isso que parece que tenho uma cara de enterro… *sorriso*

(edited text courtesy of Daniel Cardoso)

© Diário de Notícias 2010

© Diário de Notícias 2010


© Diário de Notícias 2010

© Diário de Notícias 2010


© Diário de Notícias 2010

© Diário de Notícias 2010

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a review by Caroline Mullan…

Monday, January 25th, 2010

Eastercon 2007 - Caroline (centre)

Eastercon 2007 - Caroline (centre)

A friend of mine, Caroline Mullan, emailed me a review of the Stone Dance and though I might have wished that she’d enjoyed the books more, I liked it enough to ask her if she would mind me putting it up on my site – and she was kind enough to agree…

(I have appended an extract from my email reply to Caroline as a comment on this post…)

The Stone Dance of the Chameleon – Ricardo Pinto (1999, 2004, 2009) – a review by Caroline Mullan

This is a very long trilogy, each volume of which has over 700 pages.

The first volume, The Chosen, was published in 1999, and my partner read it and was impressed (My partner is not often impressed). The second, The Standing Dead, came out in 2004, and I bought copies of the first two in paperback so that I would have the trilogy to read when the final volume appeared. The last, The Third God, was launched at Eastercon last year, by Ricardo in person, and we have the hardback Ricardo inscribed. So, I have read all three volumes back-to-back and feel entitled to an opinion.

I, too, am impressed. But I wish I liked them better.

We first meet our hero Carnelian aged 15, secure among his family in his childhood home, greeting unexpected visitors. With breathtaking speed his home is dismantled round him, and he embarks on the two thousand page journey across his world that will take him to adulthood, and bring him to full knowledge of good and evil. He travels as a child, initially, subservient to powerful others. Later he makes his own decisions and choices. Throughout, his acts arise from ignorance and hope, and are undertaken without knowledge or understanding of possible consequences. His journey has disastrous consequences for his world. (I think this is quite rare: Stephen King’s The Stand might come close, but even in fantasy few authors grant their protagonists such powerful destructive agency.) Carnelian’s journey and his world’s catastrophe proceed inexorably and entirely convincingly from their premises to their conclusions.

Carnelian himself is an ignorant, spoiled, self-indulgent brat who takes a very long time to grow up, and there were times when I wanted to throw the book across the room in order to avoid another episode of his repeated, tortured indecision. (Thinking as I write this, I realise that I should have more sympathy for someone refusing to grow up, but that was not how I felt at the time.) Even the best of the other characters
are scarcely more sympathetic, and the worst are fully-realised monsters of tyranny and cruel self-indulgence. The books are violent, unpleasant, and filled with people damaged physically and emotionally from living in a brutal and dysfunctional society, saturated with and fascinated by death and its surrounding rituals.

However brutal or macabre, Carnelian’s world is fully-realised, its landscape, people, economics, politics, sociology and iconography developed rigorously and convincingly as a fascinating, working world. It is this discipline, this rigour and this fascination (the fact that the book is science fiction, rather than fantasy, if you will) that kept me reading to the convincing and bloody end.

(In interviews, Ricardo tells us that he spent years in therapy in order to be able to complete these books. I first met him at the 2008 Eastercon, where we talked about reading Tanith Lee, and Jung, and I’m not in the least surprised.)

Despite taking twelve years to write, this trilogy is all one book. Despite being all one book, the three volumes are very good at taking their individual stories forward without requiring continuous checking back for detailed knowledge of the previous volumes. Technically, it may be one of the best-constructed trilogies I have ever read.

So I cannot in honour recommend you read this trilogy for enjoyment. But as a work of literary art, I think it will stand the test of time, and as an exercise in building and revealing a world it is superb, and on that basis I will recommend it unreservedly to those who read for those qualities. But make sure you can set aside long hours to read it. You will need them.

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