In this luminous book, Tricia Tunstall explores the enduring fascination of the piano lesson. Even as everything else about the world of music changes, the piano lesson retains its appeal. Drawing on her own lifelong experience as a student and teacher, Tunstall writes about the mysteries and delights of piano teaching and learning. What is it that happens in a piano lesson to make it such a durable ritual? In a world where music is heard more often on the telephone and in the elevator than in the concert hall, why does the piano lesson still have meaning in the lives of children? What does it matter whether one more child learns to play Bach's Minuet in G? Note by Note is in part a memoir in which Tunstall recalls her own childhood piano teachers and their influence. As she observes, the piano lesson is unlike the experience of being coached on an athletic team or taught in a classroom, in that it is a one-on-one, personal communication. Physically proximate, mutually concentrating on the transfer of a skill that is often arduous, complicated and frustrating, teacher and student occasionally experience breakthroughs-moments of joy when the student has learned something, mastered a musical passage or expressed a feeling through music. The relationship is not only teaching the piano is a lifelong endeavor of particular intensity and power. Anyone who has ever studied the piano-or wanted to-will cherish this gem of a book.
This book brought back so many wonderful memories of my 13 years of piano lessons. There were so many passages that moved me to tears because I remember having an intimate relationship with the pieces Tunstall described herself and her students playing.
As I was reading this book, all that overcame me was how much I missed playing the piano and also how I would've loved to have a teacher like Tunstall. I had a wonderful relationship with my piano teacher and I would never want to give up my time with her, but as I was reading about Tunstall's teaching methods, part of me feels like I might've been able learn how to play by ear if she had been my teacher and maybe I would've been able to understand the workings and theory of music a little better. My understanding of music theory is extremely dismal and it was never something I could master - even when I was a music student in college (which lasted a whole semester and a half).
The reason I gave this book 4 stars instead of 5 is because this book is definitely not for everyone. If you never had a desire to play the piano or any sort of instrument when you were younger, this book probably won't change your mind. It is written more for classical music and piano-lovers.
I also wouldn't recommend this book to people who don't have any sort of understanding of how music works. The terminology Tunstall uses in this book can only be followed and understood by people who have some sort of musical background.
Having said that, I really feel like this book might be the catalyst that gets me to sit down at the piano again. The following passages from the book were so memorable to me, that they made me ache for those ebony and ivory keys again.
On pp. 77 & 78: My hands were not yet big enough for Rachmaninoff, but for Madame Dmitrieff, Rachmaninoff was a matter of heart. "Play deep!" she admonished as I worked my way through the splayed chords of the C-sharp Minor Prelude. "Imagine the piano keys are a foot deep... go deep down, all the way down!" And when I came to the middle section, with its fierce chromatic melody and turbulent arpeggios: "More feeling! More feeling! More feeling! You are playing gloom, okay, but you must play despair, you must play anguish!"... I tried my twelve-year-old best to play anguish and despair. Mostly I was trying to get the notes right, but I can remember that as I played, the phrase "the Russian soul" came into my mind, and I thought I understood it.
When I was in high school, I too, attempted to master Rachmaninoff's Prelude in C-Sharp Minor. It was one of the most dark and anguishing pieces I've ever played - but an emotional, passionate person such as myself needed that sort of release when I sat down at the piano. I eventually did master this piece and went on to perform it at competition to a second place finish. I have never been naturally gifted at the piano. My hands are small (my wedding ring is a size 4. Most people can't even fit it on their pinky!) and I don't have especially long fingers. So attempting a Rachmaninoff piece with huge chords, some bigger than an octave, was quite the undertaking, which I was extremely proud of myself when I actually did master this piece. Reading this passage about the author's own experience playing this piece, and having a Russian teacher no less, really brought back all those memories of when I learned to master this piece. Today if I sit down to the piano I can play the first section quite well, but once I get to the agitato section, I completely lose all my ease and facility at the piano.
Another passage that really spoke to me was when she talks about classical vs. pop music with students who study the piano on pp. 81-82:
Undeniably, pop music can be seductive. But I have never seen its appeal turn a child against classical music. I think of Haley, the teenager who succumbed to the spell of the Schubert Impromptu. Haley had come to me initially at the age of fourteen, having left a teacher who had rigorously schooled her in piano classics for a number of years. "I hear you let kids play fun stuff sometimes," she said to me at our first lesson. I let her play some fun stuff: Broadway show-stoppers, hip-hop riffs, contemporary pop. She played all this music with gusto; she was clearly having fun. And after about a year she come to a lesson with her old collection of piano classics sandwiched between "All That Jazz" and "Accidentally in Love." We started the Chopin Waltz in A Minor, the one with the bleak and lovely melody in the left hand, and after a few more weeks I did not see "All that Jazz" again. Broadway may be alluring; Chopin is, in the end, irresistible.
Chopin is indeed irresistible. He was and continues to this day to be the classical composer I am most smitten with. Probably because he composed exclusively for the piano and that's where his heart and soul was devoted - much like myself when I was younger. I'll never forget the first time I heard Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu when I was ten years old. There will never be a piece that stirs my emotions more than that one. I never learned how to play that piece and I think a goal I have before I die is to be able to master that piece.
On p. 86 when describing a student working on a Shostakovitch piano concerto:
The music does not come easily to her, and she struggles with many passages, but she doesn't tire of it. For her it is not a piece to master so much as a place to dwell.
While mastery was always my goal in practicing a piece of music, this passage really does ring true for my own experience of playing the piano. I was dwelling there. I had a designated piece to play for whatever mood I was in at the time. If I was angry or frustrated, I broke out the Rachmaninoff prelude; if I was in a nostalgic, dream-like mood, Chopin was my composer of choice. Excited and content: Mozart or Beethoven.
And finally, on pp. 128-130, Tunstall describes an experience teaching a rather determined, yet musically awkward student Beethoven's Sonata Pathetique. Her description of this teaching experience brought back my own memories of learning this sonata. It is, to this day, my favorite Beethoven sonata because all three movements, indeed, move me.
This book speaks to so many different people, but ultimately you have to be a lover of classical music to enjoy it. I don't think Tunstall is going to be converting anyone with this book. You have to come into it already loving it.
What an unassuming but remarkable little book! Tricia Tunstall, who teaches piano lessons, writes with great perceptiveness and feeling about what transpires between a student (most often a child) and a teacher in the long process of learning to play an instrument. This is a book about music and what it means to us, about the role of classical music in an iPod world, about pedagogy, and about childhood. I took piano lessons from the ages of 5 to 18, and Note by Note allowed me to revisit the experience and understand it more deeply.
I found myself relating to this fellow piano teacher's stories and enjoying her style of writing. I appreciated her vulnerability and candidness. Although, I did not like the use of some language dropped here and there and could have done without a paragraph in the last chapter.
So great to read this glimpse into a piano teachers life and her efforts with different student personalities. It starts slowly and moves to a crescendo as she describes the dynamics of the recital and how each student performs based on preparation and personality. I loved this book since I’m approaching my three year mark as an adult taking lessons and have played in four nerve racking yet fun and supportive recitals.
So good I hated for it to end. Tale of the author's journey as a student and teacher. Discussion of the uniqueness and intimacy of the one-on-one of lessons - and the rewards of music given meaning, emotion, and immediacy by being generated personally. Sharing something that cannot be expressed or captured by words alone.
I would say it’s more likely a good book, just not for me. All students in the book are kids, which is a bit hard to relate to my purpose of this reading as an adult beginner. I have to skip some pages.
A wonderful homage to the dynamic relationship between a piano teacher and their student. As a late beginner on piano, this book inspired me to work harder at the craft. Truly inspirational.
I really liked this book, even though I was bound to like it, since my daughter is a piano teacher, which gives me a motivation to read it and like it no matter what. As I hoped, the book gave me real insight and real closeness to the world of my daughter's vocation. As always, I am awestruck by people who can talk about music in words. I had also been a music student (clarinet) many years ago, and this book evoked many fond memories of my clarinet teacher. I learned a lot in reading it about my musical strengths and weaknesses. It brought back some harrowing memories of memorizing long pieces for music contests. One of my favorite parts was Tunstall's appreciation of her students' individuality. I especially prized her tolerance and even praise of one of her student's stubbornness, seeing it as a sign of the kind of strong personality that could excel at music (or anything else, for that matter). My own daughter never knew that I admired the same trait in her for the same reason, even though it made for some difficult times between us! I call it "inner-directedness", however!
Note by Note is a series of essays that make a book. Tunstall looks into the process of learning and teaching piano, combining personal reflection on her students now, her childhood lessons. When it becomes relevant, she'll make a gentle digression into the theory of teaching music, the history of written music, genres of music, or the influence of the iPod on piano teaching. And then she'll bring it back to the real by tying her digression in to the story of one student, whether that's herself, or Jenny, age 6 and just learning names of notes, or Justin, 13, who already performs as a soloist with orchestras, or any of the other intriguing people she portrays in this delightful book. Best of all, it made me want to play. So although the book was difficult to put down, whenever I finished a chapter, I headed for the instrument.
I've already passed this one on to my musician spouse, who is likewise reading it avidly. So: highly recommended for anyone who plays, or has played, or wants to learn to play, the piano; to anyone who teaches music; and to all those who love the art of the personal essay.
A few weeks ago, Roger Sutton over at Read Roger (the Horn Book blog) mentioned that he was enjoying Tricia Tunstall's Note by Note: A Celebration of the Piano Lesson. So I picked it up from the library and got immediately swept away.
Everyone who has ever taken private music lessons remembers something about their teacher vividly. My father *still* can drum up images of the nun he learned from (and the sharp rap of her ruler on his knuckles!) As Tricia Tunstall so astutely points out, "there are very few occasions when a child spends an extended period alone with an unrelated adult." She proceeds, elegantly and sweetly, to give us an intimate glimpse into that unusual relationship from the perspective of both student and teacher.
I loved this book. If you have ever taken music lessons, or have ever taught a child how to play piano, dance, or read a book, my guess is that you'll probably love it too.
An excellent, intriguing look at an enduring American childhood tradition: that of the piano lesson. Tunstall is the kind of teacher I'd love to send my kids to for music lessons: she's very aware of the limb kids go out on when they take up the arduous task of learning an instrument. Her portraits of students are brief sketches but memorable (such as ten year old Damian, who wants to learn hip-hop beats on the keyboard).
For me, it was impossible not to draw parallels between Tunstall's pedagogical method and the ways librarians and teachers like to get kids interested in reading (or any other kind of learning): the way she uses popular music to keep kids engaged; the seemingly impossible task of learning to read music; the solitude of practicing on your own.
Tunstall's prose is humorous and sprightly; her enthusiasm for music and learning was infectious enough to make me pull out my old Mozart books and start plunking. A great end-of-the-year gift for piano teachers, or anyone with a love of the music.
I was entranced by all things piano for a few weeks this summer. It began when I watched the excellent documentary on the Van Cliburn Amateur Piano Competition called _They Came to Play_. I followed that with a documentary on the making of a Steinway piano. And I finished it off with this essay celebrating the piano lesson.
This book is a wonderful, very personal book on one piano teacher's experience giving and receiving piano lessons. I reveled in the author's experiences starting with her own piano lessons and continuing with the joys and challenges of being a piano teacher. The author also brings to life the sheer musical individuality of her students. And I loved how the book came full circle in the end describing her final piano teacher who became her husband and her accidental career that catapulted her into becoming a full time piano teacher. I never took piano lessons, and this book has inspired me to try.
As a former child who suffered through, then grew to embrace and love piano lessons and the piano itself for much of my childhood and teenage years, I had high hopes for this book. I recently became the proud owner of our family piano and it holds many, many memories for me.
But, I couldn't even finish this book, it was so boring. It is far too detailed with the music aspect, theory, basically all of the things that I initially hated about piano lessons before it occurred to me that through the piano and a few teachers that I really loved, I was learning much more than notes on a page.
I think I was hoping for more of that in this book, and I was disappointed not to find it by the time I was halfway through. It's much too much about the things that Tunstall finds interesting about teaching the mechanics of it, rather than the beauty found in the lessons and the kids themselves.
I absolutely loved this book, but music has always been such a colossal part of my life. I also took piano lessons for 10 years during my childhood, so it was wonderful to read about the piano lesson from the teacher's point of view. It was a beautiful and kind account of the many personalities she trains musically and of their journeys toward mastery, or not. She arrives at the conclusion that the pursuit of beauty in music is perfectly worthwhile, even if a performing career is never possible. She also validates the terror of stage fright in recitals, and the amazing amount of courage it takes to have faith in yourself to play music. In the end, she spoke personally of her best piano teacher and how he changed her life forever, and I cried in the last chapter. I definitely want to read this again.
A very interesting, thoughtful, and memorable book that I highly recommend. I agree heartily with the other positive reviews. Even if you haven't taken piano lessons, this will get you thinking about all the pianists and piano lessons in fiction: Miss Cobb in the Betsy-Tacy series, Beth in Little Women, Katherine in The Small Rain. If you have read and liked any of those books, you will want to read Note by Note. It's not just about piano lessons, but about what music means to each of us.
(If any reader should happen to lose interest in the book, I encourage you to continue until you reach the last two chapters, Recital and My Last Piano Teacher. Both very compelling.)
The book was the not the greatest. I skimmed here and there. I can't quite put my finger on it; hoping my book group will have the words for me! BUT: overall, I truly enjoyed reading the book and taking many trips down memory lane. I have been around pianos & lessons for a long time, starting at a convent and ending with an old baby grand in our apt. in Chicago. But I don't want it to end there. I'd love for Lila (and Charlie?) to take lessons and perhaps play again myself. I would love to have a piano in our new home... Anyhow, the book made me quite nostalgic and for that I am happy with choosing this book.
My April book club pick...I chose. Bringing back so memories of piano lessons, growing up with pianos and dreaming of playing again with my kids!
This is simply a lovely book--as graceful and passionate as the sonatas and concertos Tunstall teaches her young students (age six to eighteen or so) to play. Tunstall clearly "hears beneath" the things her pupils say and the notes they play; she registers their fears, desires, and needs as they relate to and are reflected in the music. She explores the pop music that is a kind of constant Surround-Sound in our culture (she sees plenty of good in it), the uneven process of technical mastery, and the ritual of the year-end recital, and mixes in with these several charming and illuminating accounts of her own teachers and her development as a musician. As a former piano student and the parent of a piano student, I felt my understanding of the piano and the process very much enlarged.
The author gives piano lessons to young students. As an adult student, I found her approach wonderful and wish I had had a teacher like her as a youth. Surprisingly, much of her analysis of young students, applies to adults as well. The relatively brief glimpses into her personal life are most touching and one senses there could be another book of a more personal nature. This book is a must for any piano teacher and is a light and enjoyable read for any student. She offers hope that when children are exposed to all kinds of music, they often prefer the music of Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert, All children need is the exposure. Not an easy task.
A great and fast read, particularly if you play piano or have some knowledge of music. I found it hard to believe a piano teacher could write so insightfully about the human circumstance as witnessed through her students. The piano gave them voice to emotions they hadn't yet experienced because of their youth. Great stuff. Then I saw she attended Yale, and contributed articles to various magazines so I now understand she is a writer of some measure.
The last chapter in particular is poignant. What gives readers pause and desire to read on are the things which are difficult to articulate. She writes achingly of her own experience, and its a remarkable end to a fine book.
I don't think I would have wanted this lady to be my piano teacher. I think she honestly tried to have an open mind about different types of music, but she was firmly entrenched in the "classical music is best" club. Also, she seemed to have a pretty rigid technique for teaching. Not every student thinks the same way or approaches music the same way and I'm not sure she really got that.
That said, I do think she cared for her students and tried as best as she could to help them. I think the world would be a better place if everyone took piano lessons at some point in their lives. It just gives you a different perspective on life and opens up your mind to new possibilities.
Being a piano teacher by profession, I loved reading about my life. Tricia has students much like my own and her insight into their musical lives made me excited to see all my students this Fall. The chapter about the "recital" was so close to home. Reading it was just like talking to a friend the Saturday night after the big event. No one but a teacher would understand. But wait; you students would enjoy it, too. After all, this book is about students as well. Hey, I was a student once; I guess I still am.
This was a fantastic book. It held my interest from beginning to end and verbalized aspects of piano lessons I didn't know could be expressed so clearly. I play the piano, but the art of teaching someone to play the piano is a gift I do not possess and which I find to be even more awe-inspiring now that I've read Note by Note. As a sidenote, the documentary of the same name, Note by Note, is not related to this book, but is about Steinway pianos and I would highly recommend it to anyone. So, read Note by Note and watch Note by Note - you will not be disappointed!
This is an exceptional book. Written in 'first person', it is accessible to teachers, students, musicians, and non-musicians alike. The author is very good at relating how musical tastes can differ amongst students, and how those changes can and do adapt over time. The author further illustrates how a teacher can influence such changes, and in such a positive manner. The book is only 214 pages long, and the chapter breaks are sufficient that you may read one chapter per day, or so, and pick up on your next reading cycle.
This is an absolutely brilliant, brilliant book. Tunstall takes the seemingly insignificant world of the piano lesson, and illuminates it to show so much more about culture - most tragically, culture that's being forgotten. For anyone who has been moved by music - any piece, any kind, even once in their life - this book will surely keep you riveted. Tom's right - it's unassuming - but this is the type of extraordinarily-written story that deserves a large and welcoming audience.
This is a wonderful story all about piano lessons; something many of us have our own experience with. The story goes through the author's various students and how she coaxes them into giving just a little more into their playing. Also, the author discusses her own role as both teacher and student herself growing up.
Reading this book makes want to go sit down at the piano and play for a couple hours.
This book took me back to my piano playing days and all that time devoted to mastering the instrument. I really enjoyed the author's perspective, one of the teacher, rather than the student. It reminded me of something that was such a huge part of my life, and helped shape me into the person I am today. I have a new appreciation for piano teachers and just how intimate the piano/student teacher relationship is.
I have never played an instrument, but I looked forward to what this author had to say about discipline, passion, and performance. Unfortunately, it did not hold my interest. I was looking for a chapter I could use in my consulting work as a professional development facilitator, but will not use this. Tunstall does create memories that anyone who has ever studied piano will relate to, however.