The Noise of Time

March 14, 2016
Reviewed by Anthony Marra, Dmitry Shostakovich, the renowned Russian
composer and subject of Barnes’s magnificent
biographical novel, purportedly declared near the end of his life, “The majority of my symphonies are tombstones.” The Noise of Time, then, is a journey into the shadows of Shostakovich’s personal cemetery, the Soviet Union at midcentury., We meet Shostakovich in 1936, at the onset of Stalin’s Great Purge, as he stands by the hallway elevator each night, awaiting his imminent arrest. It’s an absurd, desperate attempt to protect to his family by surrendering himself before the security forces reach his apartment. His opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk recently received a sharp rebuke in Pravda titled “Muddle Instead of Music,” which may have been written by Stalin himself, because “there were enough grammatical errors to suggest the pen of one whose mistakes could never be corrected.” In Stalin’s Russia, where even the most abstract of the fine arts are potent political expressions, and where one’s worth is determined by one’s work, this sort of criticism can serve as a death sentence., Shostakovich barely avoids arrest, and we catch up with him every 11 or 12 years. In 1949, he returns from a disastrous trip to New York City as a Soviet delegate to the Cultural and Scientific Congress for World Peace. In 1960, he is in the back of a chauffeured car, having committed moral suicide by becoming a party member. From these scenes of transition, the fragmented narrative delves into Shostakovich’s public collusions with and private condemnations of Soviet power. He emerges as a sympathetic, frail, and tragic hero whose self-castigations are far harsher than any judgments the reader will pass., It’s curious that a novel stretching across Shostakovich’s life would largely omit his experiences in the Second World War, particularly his Seventh “Leningrad” Symphony, which must be among the most mythologized concert premieres of the 20th century. But Barnes is more interested in the political than practical realities of composing. By focusing on Shostakovich’s compromises, rather than his compositions, The Noise of Time transcends the singular nature of artistic brilliance to become universal in its exploration of repression and resistance. “He had been as courageous as his nature allowed; but conscience was always there to insist that more courage could have been shown.” This is as close to self-forgiveness as Barnes’s Shostakovich comes. It’s not hard to imagine the sentiment would be shared by anyone who has conceded a portion of his or her soul to totalitarianism in exchange for the right to survive., Novels about artistic achievement rarely do justice to their subjects. What, really, can Irving Stone tell us about Michelangelo’s genius that the Sistine Chapel doesn’t already amply demonstrate? The Noise of Time is that rarity. It is a novel of tremendous grace and power, giving voice to the complex and troubled man whose music outlasted the state that sought to silence him. (May), Anthony Marra is the author of The Tsar of Love and Techno and A Constellation of Vital Phenomena (both from Hogarth).

March 1, 2016
A fictional treatment of the Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975) and his long history of humiliation and persecution under Soviet rule."Muddle instead of music," read the headline in Pravda after the 1936 performance of Shostakovich's opera Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk. Under Stalin's rule, this signified more than just a bad review--it was a loudly broadcasted command to stick to the Communist Party line and, amid purges and gulags, tantamount to a death threat. This brief novel from the Man Booker Prize-winning Barnes (The Sense of an Ending, 2011, etc.) captures the cloud of fear the composer lived under until his death, regardless of whether he was in or out of favor with "Power" with a capital P. He delivered speeches he didn't write that made claims he didn't agree with, and he acceded to demands he allow a tutor to school him in Soviet doctrine, while laboring to compose music that wouldn't offend but still indulged his creative spirit. All of this took a toll on him, of course, and Barnes captures his subject's stress and dark humor with his signature grace. There's plenty of sharp imagery depicting Shostakovich's bind: "He swam in honours like a shrimp in shrimp-cocktail sauce" captures the putrescence of acclaim that's a function of politics; elsewhere, he conceives of life as "the cat that dragged the parrot downstairs by its tail; his head banged against every step." But this portrait also feels too restrained at times. While Barnes willingly gets into Shostakovich's head when it comes to his painful submission, he generally elides how he composed music under those circumstances. That softens the sense of artistic loss in a story that might have sent a stronger signal about what happens to creativity in repressive circumstances. A moody, muted composition about art under the thumb of tyranny.

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Starred review from April 1, 2016

Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-75), considered by many the greatest Soviet Russian composer, wrote much of his music under exceedingly trying conditions. He lived at a time when incurring the disfavor of Soviet leader Stalin could land even musicians and poets in the gulag or worse. In his new novel, Man Booker Prize winner Barnes (The Sense of an Ending) details how for years the artist slept with a packed suitcase beside him each night should he hear that knock on the door. The author addresses his subject not chronologically but by emphasizing certain themes in his life: his insecurities, his relations with women and his several marriages, and his never-ending run-ins with Power--Barnes's term for the Soviet establishment. Even when his reputation was reestablished after Stalin's death, Shostakovich continued to experience confrontations with a Communist party determined to use him for its own ends. VERDICT Though his novel says comparatively little about Shostakovich's music, Barnes's fresh and distinctive approach to the composer's life highlights key aspects of his character and lets us believe we've read an actual biography. This engaging work is well recommended to readers of literary fiction as well as aficionados of Soviet culture and history. [See Prepub Alert, 2/21/16.]--Edward Cone, New York

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Starred review from April 15, 2016
Barnes' (Keeping an Eye Open, 2015) deeply complicated biographical novel is rich in depth, beautiful in prose, and stunning in nuance. As he imagines the Russian composer Dmitri Dmitriyevich Shostakovich, during the Soviet epoch under Lenin, Stalin, and, finally, Khrushchev, the grim atmosphere of the time is reflected in the inner world of his protagonist. Barnes follows Shostakovich on a winding chronology, offering a pervasive sense of that barbaric, horribly inhumane time. Achieving success early for his opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District, Shostakovich is terrified when he finds out that Stalin, an oppressive shadow for him until 1936, has condemned his music. In compelling, chilly scenes, Barnes portrays Shostakovich waiting, with bag packed and cigarettes and alcohol in reserve, to be sent into exile in Siberia, or executed. Later, in a soul-shattering turn, Shostakovich is forced to sell out in the worst possible ways for an artist: They had promised to leave him alone. They never left him alone. Power continued speaking to him. Barnes uses irony to powerful effect in this frightening exploration of an artist living under constant fear and threat.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2016, American Library Association.)