Had the good luck to speak this morning, via Zoom, to Marta Dvorak, whose book Mavis Gallant: The Eye and the Ear (University of Toronto Press, 2019) has been a touchstone for me since I began my diary keeping, the slow construction of this mini-monument to Mavis Gallant (MG). Born in Budapest to musician parents (mother a violinist, father a trombonist), the family came to Winnipeg when Marta was very young — this was soon after the uprising in 1956 that prompted that huge diaspora — and eventually moved to Hamilton; her mother was instrumental in establishing the Faculty of Music at McMaster. Marta made her way to Paris, embraced the academic life, navigated the rigorous and competitive French system, emerged unscathed, and eventually won an appointment to the Sorbonne. That’s about as condensed a version of a fairytale — which isn’t to say hard-won — career as ever you’re likely to read. She is the real deal, la vraie chose. And just plain old nice, too. Marta was a good friend of MG. Her close reading of the fiction set alongside the personal insights afforded her by that intimacy make for a fascinating book, truly unique, and I commend to you all Mavis Gallant: The Eye and the Ear.
It had been my intention to break our conversation into two parts, just to make it more bite-size, but I was, as always, hobbled by technology. Whatever it was I was trying to do — a simple split and save, surely the most rudimentary of the compulsory figures — induced in my little laptop, which isn’t young, a tubercular fit that has set the agenda for the rest of my day: off to the Apple Store. So, what’s posted above is our conversation in its entirety. Well. It’s not a disaster. You’re all grownups. You can watch it instalments as you have the time and the will, and I think you’ll find lots to enjoy. (I found very moving, for instance, Marta’s story of how she and a few others in the close circle during MG’s last few years, when her health was very precarious, would read to her, sometimes from her own work, and she would be amazed by the narrative sleight of hand she had owned as a younger writer.)
Marta’s mother was the remarkable Marta Hidy, a really top drawer violinist. She became a champion of the music of Sofie Eckhardt-Gramatté, herself a virtuoso violinist / pianist, and a daring composer who enlivened (and probably mystified) Winnipeg cultural circles for many years. I was aware of her while growing up there, was always fascinated by her, everything about her seemed so unlikely, eccentric. There may be some truth to the story — her husband swore it was true — that she was the natural daughter of Tolstoy — a prospect that would certainly have entranced MG. You can find Marta Hidy’s performance of a sonata for solo violin by Eckhardt-Gramatté on YouTube. What I append here is the first movement of a Smetana string quartet, performed by the McMaster Quartet, led by Marta Hidy. The playing is so passionate and accomplished. Wonderful.
What a great pleasure and privilege to talk to Marta Dvorak about MG, about her outstanding book, and about her own extraordinary lineage. My thanks to Marta, and I hope you enjoy the interview. And the music! xo, B
Grief, Memory, Three O'Clock in the Morning: My Mavis Gallant Centennial Diary, June 18