Tales Of Hoffmann: The Writer's Eternal Struggle

My Opera Program

A week ago last Sunday, my husband and I went to a first-rate production of Jacques Offenbach's Tales Of Hoffman, staged by the Canadian Opera Company. If you're not familiar with this opera, see this article on Wikipedia.

Coloratura soprano Adriana Chuchman, who played an automaton named Olympia, gave an outstanding performance. Her characterization was very funny and her voice was so perfect it brought tears to my eyes. 

Although "Tales" has closed, COC is finishing up runs for two other operas this month; so if you like opera at all, check out http://www.coc.ca/. It's worth a trip to Toronto. (Plus there's a Picasso exhibition on now at the AGO.)

Although I greatly enjoyed the beautiful voices and first class orchestra, that's not why I'm writing about Tales Of Hoffmann. At heart, this opera is an exploration of whether an artist - in this case, a poet - can be involved in a relationship or not.


Never mind that the opera was written by a man, and from a 19th century man's perspective about art, women, and how a man who is serious about his art ultimately finds that he must choose faithfulness to his Muse over faithfulness to any one woman. (Because there is no "perfect" woman who will not have her own agendas and needs and failings, and who, from the man's perspective, will detract from the important work he feels compelled to do.)

The obvious masochism - and blindness - inherent in this point of view is discussed by Director Lee Blakeley in his Director's Notes:

"The role of wife or mistress of a Romantic poet was complex and often suffocating. Supporting obsessive artistic labours was often the difficult burden placed upon the poet's companion, much to the disadvantage of her own artistic ambitions. Relationships faltered when the realities of life such as infant mortality, depression, and poverty were seen to be brought into the marriage by the woman. This tarnished the poet's idealistic view of her and toppled her position as the perfect Romantic woman. By contrast, the writers would often escape into licentious and drunken sprees to obsessively feed the work, an experience free of such judgments." 

But all this is beside the point for me. Whether male or female, a writer still struggles with balancing his or her life and relationships with the solitary nature of his or her work.

An amusing interview of Hilary Mantel was published in the Globe and Mail this past Saturday, and it contained a "saying" I had never heard before: that "one child equals two books."

So writers still struggle with how to apportion their time between writing time, family time, and if you still have a day job, the nine to five.

It's never been an easy juggling act, and unlikely ever to be easy. Still, I found it interesting that I felt emotionally moved by Hoffmann's struggle to obey his Muse, even though he was depicted as a selfish, narcissistic drunk.  

We writers love the Muse, don't we? And, sometimes, we'll do just about anything to keep her whispering in our ears - abandon spouses, neglect dinner, quit jobs, stay up all night working on a story idea... whatever it takes to get the idea down or the edit done.

I think the big difference today is that, unlike Hoffmann, we don't disdain those who are willing to put up with our need to write.

That's got to be an improvement.