ANALYSIS:
Samuel Katz
Christina Black
ENGL 1447
15 December 2013
Mystery
in the Language of Music
For
my project, I decided to juxtapose “Carrowkeel”, a piano piece written by
contemporary artist Michele McLaughlin, with The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, a novel written by mystery
author John Le Carré. McLaughlin, one of my favorite new composers, devises
very profound scores, which exhibit a variety of changes in key, tempo,
dynamics, articulation, rhythm, and overall style. In her song entitled
“Carrowkeel,” McLaughlin uses these elements to create two separate musical
stories, or themes, within her work. Similarly to “Carrowkeel,” The Spy Who Came in from the Cold
portrays this same dual-story nature, which is formed by Alec Leamas’ involvement
in MI6 and his relationship with his lover, Elizabeth Gold. Both the song and
the book feature starkly differing two-story dualities, which begin as brief,
intense inciting incidents which collide abruptly at the dénouement.
The
first story of McLaughlin’s piece “Carrowkeel” commences with low, dark octaves
in the left hand and simultaneous, repeating minor tetrachords in the right
hand, which create an initial burst of ferocity and fury. This is the inciting
incident, which introduces the listener to the rest of the song and is
eventually repeated two other times. Not only is this an ominous “story” within
the song, it is disproportionately loud and overpowering when compared to the other
story. Thus, it relentlessly drives the song forward, giving no heed to the
second story until it the song finally evolves back into the other, more
melodic section of the piece. However, the song reenters this state of
intensity, this first story twice throughout the song. Ultimately, at the end
of the tune, this story reappears, but does not transform back into the subtle
melodies of the second story. At this moment, the driving ends with climbing,
broken C minor chords up the keys and ends sharply with a heavy C octave on the
left hand and high C in the right hand.
Interestingly
enough, many of these key elements from McLaughlin’s song can be found within
Le Carré’s spy novel. The novel’s first story, the story of Alec Leamas’ job as
a spy in MI6, begins with the killing of Karl Reimeck, one of Leamas’
undercover field agents. Likewise to McLaughlin during the introduction of her
piece, Le Carré produces a frightening, intense image of the assassination:
Then,
totally unexpected, the searchlights went on, white and brilliant, catching
Karl and holding him in the beam like a rabbit in the headlights of a car.
There came the see-saw wail of a siren, the sound of orders wildly shouted. In
front of Leamas the two policemen dropped to their knees, peering through the
sandbagged slits, deftly flicking the rapid load on their automatic rifles. (8)
Le Carré’s use
of the words “wail” and “wildly” create a very chaotic image in the reader’s
mind, which closely resembles the image created by the introduction of McLaughlin’s
piece. However, the first story of the song and the novel are not solely similar
based on their inciting incidents. At the closing of the novel, we again
experience this intensity prior to Liz’s death:
Suddenly
the whole world seemed to break into flame; from everywhere, from above and
beside them, massive lights converged, bursting upon them with savage accuracy.
Leamas was blinded, he turned his head away, wrenching wildly at Liz’s arm. Now
she was swinging free; he thought she had slipped and he called frantically,
still drawing her upwards. He could see nothing—only a mad confusion of colour
dancing in his eyes. Then came the hysterical wail of sirens, orders
frantically shouted. (224)
Again, Le Carré’s
produces another chaotic scene, reusing words such as “wildly” and “wail.” This
repetition is analogous to McLaughlin’s repetition of the repeating C minor
tetrachords at the end of her piece, which also create a very ominous and wild
sound.
The
player and the song itself seemingly attempt to escape from the frenzy of the
first story with the less aggressive, more melodic “second story” I have
previously eluded to. In these two sections, the dynamics drop from fortissimo
to mezzo-forte, a more reasonable volume for playing a calm, melodic tune. Also
in these sections, the key occasionally dips out of C minor into E-flat major,
which adds some happiness to the song’s overall dismal mood. However, each time
the story trails off into this somewhat blissful state, the first story of the
piece regains control of the song. The existence of this “second story” is a
diversion of the song—a distraction from the dark reality that is the first
story.
In
comparison to “Carrowkeel,” the Le Carré’s novel also contains a second story,
which, likewise to the song, is Leamas’ escape from the reality of his
occupation as a spy. This second story is Leamas’ desire for a life of love
with Liz, who fatefully becomes a key element in the plot. This desire first
becomes apparent after Control inquires, “About that girl—do you want anything
done about her, money or anything” (50). Leamas responds, “When it’s over. I’ll
take care of it myself then” (50). Here, Leamas is indicating that he will have
some sort of life after the mission is over and that his life as a spy will be
“over” at some point. Furthermore, he iterates, “I just want her left alone. I
just don’t want her to be messed about. I don’t want her to have a file or
anything. I want her forgotten” (50). When stating that he wants her
“forgotten,” he is implying that he wants this love-life, or second story, to
be forgotten, keeping the two different stories separate. Nonetheless, the two
stories collide fatefully at the end, as his love life with Liz is the fatal flaw
that cannot be ignored by Control, and Liz is shot. Upon the killing of his
lover, Leamas sees no reason to live and concedes his own life. This defining
moment is can be seen as the final hit of the C octaves on the piano—a slightly
drawn-out, morbid note symbolizing death.
As
Tzvetan Todorov alludes to in his essay “The Typology of Detective Fiction,” the
whodunit features a sort of “duality” that “contains not one but two stories:
the story of the crime and the story of the investigation” (44). However, in Le Carré’s novel, we find that
there is a dual-story structure hidden within the protagonist, and in this
case, it closely parallels the dual-story structure of Michele McLaughlin’s
work “Carrowkeel.” In both stories, one story is strikingly contrast to the
other, and both stories ultimately crash at the end of each piece. Moreover,
the title “Carrowkeel” refers to a burial site—a megalithic cemetery in
Ireland. The fact that McLaughlin’s piece so blatantly refers to death is
somewhat uncanny when compared with the dour nature of The Spy Who Came in from the Cold.
Works Cited
Katz, Samuel.
“Michele McLaughlin – Carrowkeel (Lil’ Pappa Remix).” Youtube. Youtube, 15 December 2013. Web. 15 December 2013.
Le, Carré John. The Spy Who Came in from the Cold.
London: Penguin, 2010. Print.
McLaughlin, Michele. “Carrowkeel.” A Celtic Dream. Michele McLaughlin,
2008. Print.
Todorov, Tzvetan.
"The Typology of Detective Fiction." The Poetics of Prose.
Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1977. 44-52. Print.
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