Break It Down by Lydia Davis Read Free Book Online Page A

or that.”
    The Japanese poet Issa
    As a child I was taught to recite the haiku of the Japanese poet Issa, and I have never forgotten them.

    Ah, my old home town,
Dumplings that they used to make,
Snow in springtime, too.
    Grownups
    I cannot live without children. But I love grownups too, because I feel a great sympathy for them—“After all, these people too must die.”
    My meeting with Tolstoy
    One day, as usual, I set off for my father’s violin factory, where a thousand people were employed. I entered the office, discovered an English typewriter, and started punching the keys.
    Just then the chief of the export department came in. “Master Shinichi!”
    I lied and said I had merely been touching the keys.
    â€œI see,” he replied simply.
    Coward, I thought. Why did I dissemble?
    I went to a bookstore, filled with severe anger against myself. Fate led me to a copy of Tolstoy’s Diary . I opened it at random. “To deceive oneself is worse than to deceive others.” These harsh words pierced me to the core.
    Several years later when, at twenty-three, I went to Germany to study, the book went with me in my pocket.
    A little episode
    Here follows a little episode of self-praise.
    I was then under the strong influence of Tolstoy.
    It was in 1919. I received an unexpected letter in early spring inviting me to join an expedition for biological research. The expedition party on board numbered thirty.
    At that time I was inseparable from my violin. It had become a part of me.
    Our ship circled the islands. While we walked side by side on the beach, we discovered a most unusual patch of moss of reddish-cobalt color growing high up a sheer cliff.
    â€œI very badly wish to have some of that moss,” said Professor Emoto, looking up anxiously.
    â€œI will get it for you from here,” I boasted, and borrowed a small scoop from a research member.
    It turned out to be situated much higher than expected. Heavens! I thought.
    I threw the scoop, under the scrutiny of the whole party.
    â€œOh, wonderful marvelous!” they cried.
    As I listened to their applause, I vowed in my heart never again to do such a foolish thing.
    I have learned what art really is
    Art is not in some far-off place.
    Dr. Einstein was my guardian
    I took lodgings in the house of a gray-haired widow and her elderly maid. Both the landlady and the maid were hard of hearing so they did not complain no matter how loudly I practiced the violin.
    â€œI shall no longer be able to look after you,” said Dr. M., a professor of medicine, “and so I have asked a friend of mine to keep an eye on you.” The friend turned out to be Dr. Albert Einstein, who later developed the theory of relativity.
    A maestro who performed too well
    Einstein’s specialties, such as the Bach Chaconne , were magnificent. In comparison with his playing, mine, though I tried to play effortlessly and with ease, seemed to me a constant struggle.
    â€œPeople are all the same, Madame”
    At a dinner party, an old woman wondered how it was that a Japanese could play the violin in such a way as to convey what was German about Bruch.
    After a brief interval, Dr. Einstein said quietly, “People are all the same, Madame.”
    I was tremendously moved.
    I now felt as though I were under direct orders from Mozart
    The whole program that evening was Mozart. And during the Clarinet Quintet, something happened to me that had never happened before: I lost the use of my arms. After the performance I tried to clap. My blood burned within me.
    That night I couldn’t sleep at all. Mozart had shown me immortal light, and I now felt as though I were under direct orders from Mozart. He expressed his sadness not only with the minor scale but with the major scale as well. Life and death: the inescapable business of nature. Filled with the joy of love, I gave up sadness.
    Well done, young man
    I was doing what I wanted to do.
    Holding