RecA

then most lines thereafter crossed out. Madame Auclair, the French violinist, had a gentler approach. Out of central casting, as they say: dark glasses, cigarette dangling, hoarse, accented voice. A friend went for a special violin lesson, and asked whether he might tape record this important event in his life. “Of course, my boy.” He played a bit and she said: “Very nice. There are some good things about your playing, very good. Now turn off the tape recorder.” When I am struggling over yet another of my obscurely written drafts I sometimes recall: amateurs play music ‘in general’; professionals play each note. And so I present to a tough-minded friend one paragraph — just one — and when that is reported to be transparent I go on to the rest. But even if I have followed the rules I mentioned above, and even if that first paragraph seemed fine at the time, now, in view of what else I have written, that first paragraph might have to go, or be seriously recast. Each paragraph is an experiment — you might not know for some time whether it is any good. There is a theme here, beautifully expressed by a friend who was going through the agonies of the “just the first paragraph” method in attempting to re-write a book. I hadn’t heard from him in a while and began to worry — had I been too tough? — and he wrote: “The only reason I hadn’t sent it (the new paragraph) already is that I didn’t want to disappoint you. But I realize that the only way you can help me is if I continue to disappoint you. So here it is...” All my teachers, whatever their methods, were trying to help me, and I love them for it. Heifetz I wouldn’t be so sure about. Rules are one thing, but in the end communication is all: at the end of a pleasant interview with a fine scientist of foreign extraction she shook my hand and said: “Its been a pleasure talking to me.”