Reviews for Jug of This: Introduction to English Folk Music

The average rating for Jug of This: Introduction to English Folk Music based on 2 reviews is 3 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2015-09-09 00:00:00 Jeff Rovin ‘’So a moment like that comes as an unwelcome reminder of how quickly things change. How the bosom pals of today become lost strangers tomorrow, scattered across Europe, playing the Godfather theme or ‘Autumn Leaves’ in squares and cafes you’ll never visit.’’ I believe that most of us have a writer that acts as a comfort. A writer whose work we choose to revisit once we feel that nothing is as it should be. This is a period which has taken a significant toll on me on a number of levels. Kazuo Ishiguro and his tender, sensitive, hopeful writing felt like a suitable choice. It goes without saying that this collection is one of my favourite creations by this master of Literature. In five stories, Ishiguro writes about love, loss, uncertainty, change, and music. Music above all. As the beautiful title of this collection reveals, these are stories centered around musicians and the turning point in their lives. The crucial moments in each story take place during evenings filled with memory, sadness and the glimpse of a fragile hope that everything may actually become whole again. In each story, the shaky relationships are witnessed by a ‘’bystander’’ that reflects on love and the human tendency to break apart what we’ve managed to build over the years. Why? Just because we can, apparently… Crooner: In Venice, a musician from a country of the former Iron Curtain meets an American singer. A story of memories, aspirations, and disappointments. Come Rain or Come Shine: A very sympathetic academic is the reluctant witness of his best friends’ desperate fight to tear down their marriage, despite the fact that they are obviously obsessed with each other. A darkly humorous story where CDs may very well be the absolute victims… Malvern Hills: A young, aspiring musician meets a middle-aged couple of professional musicians while working in his sister’s inn. A couple that is obviously miss-matched but united in their love for music in an extremely ‘’picturesque’’ story. Nocturne: An underachieving musician is advised to consider a plastic surgery to become more handsome...And he accepts. He meets a famous woman whose nocturnal escapades in their hotel provide a chance for contemplation and a possible moment of realization regarding fame and vanity. Cellists: A young Hungarian musician meets a beautiful cellist. But nothing is as it seems. This was my favourite story in the collection, its ending almost brought tears to my eyes. Ishiguro’s stories take us to Italy, to England, to Austria, to Eastern Europe with its tremendous musical tradition. Couples are dancing under the summer nightly sky, they explore hotels in the middle of the night, they try to regain confidence in themselves and the others. Some succeed, some fail. Through Ishiguro’s quiet, powerful writing, the characters become our friends, people we care about. Love and music go hand-in-hand. Nightfall is the most suitable chaperone for both. Upon finishing Nocturnes, I felt a little lighter, a little more optimistic… ‘’But for another few minutes at least, we were safe, and we kept dancing under the starlit sky.’’ My reviews can also be found on

Review # 2 was written on 2019-03-26 00:00:00 Anthony Parker I have a problem with Kazuo Ishiguro. And my problem with Nocturnes is the same one I had with his last novel, Never Let Me Go: I can't figure out why I didn't like it more. Despite his deceivingly simple prose I am very aware of his tremendous skill. I find many of his themes fascinating. I am sufficiently interested in his characters to keep on reading. I admire his resistance against easy resolutions or explicative characterizations. I marvel at his ability to create moments that are truly funny or touching or absurd without overplaying those moments. But his words don't bubble in my brain days after I've consumed them. The people in his stories seem like interesting strangers who pique my curiosity only for the length of time that they are in front of me. I don't doubt their authenticity as real people but I don't necessarily want to form long-term relationships with them. Something seems to keep me from fully connecting. One of his favorite themes seems to be denial. The way we deny our own mortality, the realities of the life we lead, the disconnect between our own grand perception of ourselves and our lowly stations in the eyes of the world. Fascinating stuff, I think, and aptly realized in these stories yet at the conclusion of each I invariably think, "so what?" Perhaps the problem is that he raises questions but refuses to provide answers, or even the slightest inclination of a hint. Perhaps the problem is that denial and impotence are so omnipresent in the worlds he creates. When every single character seems to be living an unfulfilled life it's hard to sympathize with any one. Perhaps the only way I can appreciate Ishiguro is to take his ideas outside of the world of his stories, to leave behind the stories altogether, and consider them in another way that is meaningful to me. But to do that would contradict my belief in what stories, and fiction writers, should do. Like I said, it's my problem.