Playing the Human Game

by Alfred Brendel

Enchanting poems from the famous pianist Alfred Brendel.

600 pages, Hardcover

First published January 31, 2011

About the author

Alfred Brendel was a Czech-born Austrian classical pianist, poet, author, composer, and lecturer noted for his performances of music by Ludwig van Beethoven, Franz Schubert and Franz Liszt. He made three recordings of Beethoven's 32 piano sonatas and was the first pianist to record Beethoven's complete works for solo piano.

Reviews

[Angel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Alfred Brendel is not unused to seeing his poems in print. He has published a number of poetry volumes, which are collected in Playing the Human Game alongside the original German. Brendel himself undertakes the role of translator, collaborating once again with the celebrated linguist Richard Stokes. Born in Czechoslovakia in 1931, Brendel is one of the world’s most eminent pianists. On paper, he composes surreal verses which, in his Collected, are sectioned into fifteen pairings, some more common (Angels and Devils), some more curious (Buddhas and Santas). “I am not exclusively a musician”, says Brendel, “I now lead a kind of double life”, and he reiterates this in ‘Hybrid’ where he admits, “that’s what you’re dealing with / a Jekyll and Hyde”.

It is a gift that Brendel has turned to poetry, as his imagination is a complex yet playful hangout. At times verging on the slapstick, Brendel explains a difficult world by drawing out the humour in the absurd. “And once again / the Lord of the universe / recorded a day of good works / three religious wars launched / several tornados unleashed / a new brand of pestilence devised [… ] / countless children successfully harmed”. While the Contents page reels off title after title, each section carries a sequence of uninterrupted free verse with punctuation making a rare appearance, reinforcing the idea that events and encounters cannot conform to familiar frameworks. Among the examples of more overt humour are subtle moments which reveal a solid pessimist beneath the laughter. This becomes particularly apparent in a series of love poems, which he introduces by announcing abruptly, “The moment has arrived / to write a love poem”. His imagery here is both distinctive and gloriously unexpected, especially in his sombre revelations. “Suddenly it has become simple / to lose yourself in love / One day / you look for yourself / and find nothing […] / heart over heels / a doting astronaut”. Crossing from love to death, his imagery becomes ever more charged and poignant, describing birdsong in ‘The Gallows-bird’ as “fervent like a circular saw / whose motor suddenly cuts out / when darkness / pulls the noose”.

Its poems interspersed with paintings and photographs, including one of a stuffed baby crocodile donning a bonnet and bow, this is a brilliantly surreal and penetrating collection. Brendel’s pianist’s fingers are effortlessly poetic.