• Acknowledgments
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• University of California Press
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Those who know me well know that beneath my austere, modernist exterior resides a sentimentality as sickly as anything in Peter Grimes. If gushing acknowledgments threaten to overwrite a grueling process with a rose-tinted vision, as if this manuscript were penned in the midst of a cocktail party, this might not necessarily be a bad thing. After all, it was the conversations in between times—over coffee, lunch, dinner, at conferences and on holidays—that sustained me through the most difficult moments of writing. Even those teachers, colleagues, friends, and family who have little interest in its contents have helped to bring the book about in many different ways. It is a pleasure to thank some of them here.

Although I am generally skeptical of origen stories, this project has a specific one: a trip to Aldeburgh with Alastair Nichol, my school music teacher, fifteen years ago. I am grateful to Alastair for setting me on an unlikely career path and introducing me to the Britten myths against which I would productively recoil. Another East Anglian, Nicholas Mathew, helped this process along when I arrived in Oxford. Tutorials with Nick in the King’s Arms—on Albert Herring and the Philosophy of New Music—are among the fondest memories of my undergraduate days. He has remained my methodological guru, consistently encouraging me to push my conclusions to their farthest points. Thanks are also due to Peter Franklin and Emanuele Senici for the kind of thought-provoking courses that set up a young scholar for life, and for supervising my undergraduate and master’s theses respectively. Suzanne Aspden was another Oxford mentor who helped to set me on my musicological way. She taught me to bust binaries, so that I could eventually put them back together again. I would also like to thank Michael Burden for his early support, and for formal hall and afternoon tea; Roger Moseley for the distinction between history and criticism, and other Taruskinian debates; Jonathan Cross and Julian Johnson for putting the modernist side across with nuance and depth; Ben Winters for Blackwell’s and G & Ds; Jo Hicks for fun musicological discussions during the MSt.

It was at Harvard that the seeds planted in Oxford began to bear fruit as a dissertation project. I am grateful to my fellow G1s, Will Cheng and Elizabeth Craft, for being there with experimental cooking, election parties in simpler times, and care-oriented musicology before it was a thing. Rowland Moseley made the transition to America much easier than it would have otherwise been, as did Toby Ottersen and Gavin Williams. Suzie Clark, another Mertonian at Harvard, was always on hand to offer moral support in the department lounge. Andrea Bohlman, Louis Epstein, Glenda Goodman, and Frank Lehman were model G2s, generous and challenging in equal measure. Matt Mugmon was an honorary middlebrow modernist. As dissertation adviser, Alex Rehding gave me the freedom to follow my own nose, but was always there for transatlantic Skype conversations when I needed him. Carolyn Abbate was a deep and careful reader, graciously continuing her involvement even as she moved away from Harvard and back again. The late and brilliant Dan Albright inspired me with his interdisciplinary virtuosity, offering incisive feedback on every chapter with superhuman speed. Martin Puchner afforded another model of interdisciplinary modernism, leaving a mark on the final chapter especially. Dana Gooley, Chris Hasty, Carol Oja, Sindhu Revuluri, and Anne Shreffler were also generous interlocutors, each leaving a palpable mark on my thinking, writing, and overall Harvard experience.

A grant from the Harvard Center for European Studies made a research year in London possible. I am grateful to Roger Parker for welcoming me into his KCL fold during this time and for serving as my new historicist superego. Although I resisted with characteristic stubbornness, the book has been strengthened by his early advocacy on behalf of thick history. At the same time, Roger’s skepticism about composer-centered monographs spurred me on to write a Britten book that wore its broader implications on its sleeve. Danielle Ward-Griffin, a fellow non-Britten Brittenite, shared in the experience of being an American PhD student in London; Harriet Boyd-Bennett was always up for pizza and wine, along with ever-stimulating musicological debate. The fourth chapter of my dissertation was written while an Early Career Fellow in Opera Studies at Oxford Brookes, where Barbara Eichner and Alex Wilson were generous colleagues and supportive friends.

The journey from dissertation to book has been an arduous and circuitous one, but supportive institutions, colleagues, and friends have buoyed me along. Raina Polivka has been a patient acquisitions editor and Francisco Reinking has handled the production side with just as much care. Editorial assistants Zuha Khan and Elena Bellaart have provided much reassurance with their prompt responses to my many clueless emails. Kevin Vaughn expertly typeset the almost-impossible musical examples. Robert Demke copyedited the manuscript with meticulousness. Josh Rutner was every bit the sharp and penetrating indexer that he was rumored to be. Debbie Kabzinski and Janet Rudasics have provided invaluable administrative support. Nicholas Clark and other staff at the Britten-Pears Library have answered queries and supported my work for over a decade now. Without this wonderful archive, this book would not have been possible. Benjamin Kolhmann has been my fount of literary knowledge, answering email questions thoughtfully and generously. Joe Auner and Joy Calico provided helpful leads on Schoenbergian matters. Brigid Cohen and Emily Dolan shared their book proposals and publishing advice, along with model monographs. Paul Kildea generously made unpublished material available even though he must have sensed differences of opinion and approach. Thanks are also due to Phil Rupprecht for late-night debates about British musical modernism and for all his encouragement and support. Arman Schwartz’s work has been a model for my own for many years now. His friendship, enthusiasm, and penchant for scholarly gossip have made musicology more fun.

At Notre Dame, my colleagues and students in the Program of Liberal Studies have kept me on my intellectual toes, encouraging me to think about the broader stakes and communicate beyond the world of musicology. Nell Cloutier, Jenny Martin, Andy Radde-Gallwitz, Denis Robichaud, and Joseph Rosenberg deserve particular thanks for solidarity in junior faculty stress. Gretchen Reydams-Schils and Tom Stapleford have been sturdy chairs on which I have often leaned. Pierpaolo Polzonetti has been the world’s best colleague, providing career and life advice, along with musicological discussions at Evil Czech. Margot Fassler’s infectious enthusiasm and warmth have helped me to feel at home at Notre Dame. Tarek Dika’s tragic disposition has, paradoxically, had the same effect. Peter Smith welcomed me into the music department and took an interest in my work. The Cultural Transformations in Modern Europe (CTME) writing group, sponsored by the Nanovic Institute, came along at just the right time. This group gave my work an interdisciplinary airing and a final polish as the project neared its end.

Richard Taruskin was the imagined reader long before he became involved in this book. His towering vantage on twentieth-century music history and historiography helped me to stake out my vista, albeit somewhat lower down. In transitioning from scholarly role model to series editor, he has weeded all-too-many of my stock phrases to count and watched (im)patiently as new ones sprung up in their place. Heather Wiebe has improved this book immeasurably, offering just the right mixture of skepticism and encouragement, along with incisive feedback at every turn. She has shown great forbearance in answering my “quick” Skype questions—about aestheticism, sentimentality, realism, and other minor topics—and has been a wonderfully supportive friend. Kate Guthrie, my middlebrow partner in crime, has been my most generous interlocutor and has come to know the stakes better than anyone else. She has answered email queries, talked through difficult passages, and edited every line too many times to count with boundless patience and care. Her steadfast support and enthusiasm have carried me over the finish line.

To my friends and family outside academia, there will never be enough words of thanks—for the unfailing love, support, and forbearance in the face of what can only be described as pathological obsession. My aunt Michele took an early interest in the project and talked through half-baked ideas as they emerged. Katherine, Liam, and now Lucy have been there with mind-boggling constancy to provide fun, laughter, and holidays in the rain. I am particularly grateful to Liam for reminding me of the plight of university administrators, without whom none of this indulgent research would have materialized. My parents-in-law, Jonathan and Deborah, have taken great interest in my work. In recent years, they have spent their summers in South Bend, providing childcare and weekend getaways—both of which helped me to finish this book. My own parents made everything happen, standing quietly in the background with unconditional financial and emotional support, along with sage advice. I owe them more than I could possibly enumerate here. My wife Christina has lived with this project longer than anyone else, journeying across the ocean with it multiple times. Along with my wonderful sons, Elliot and Oliver, she has shared the burden of days, weeks, months, and years at the writing desk. Without the love, patience, and ready distraction of my family, this book would never have seen the light of day. Thank you doesn’t seem quite enough, but I’ll say it anyway. This book is dedicated to them.

Notre Dame, June 2018