During the “Meet the Author Event: Edwidge Danticat,” Danticat mentioned five fascinating proverbs that emerged from her memoir (Brother, I’m Dying) and/or inspired her writing. She defined proverb as an inspiration for writing, and I absolutely agree with her. Here are the five proverbs:

Proverb 1: Words have wings, words have feet.

In other words, words are able to travel to many places to be in the hands of someone else. For Danticat, letters were important her, in which communication between her and her family was by words on letters. Her words were able to create her memoir. The words of her life traveled through her memoir so that others may be inspired also.

Proverb 2: Sometimes you’re running from the rain, but you end up in the fire.

This relates to Uncle Joseph, where he ran away from the chaos occurring in Haiti. He believed that entering America would be the safe zone, but instead, he still didn’t escape into safety. Unfortunately, he died there from his illness because of mistreatment.

Towards the bigger picture, Danticat relates this with immigration, in which immigrants viewed America as a safe haven where they can potentially prosper. However, many immigrants, whether illegal or legal, continue to face hardship (but possibly not as worse as back in their home countries).

Proverb 3: Misfortune has no horn.

Overall, anything can happen at anytime, whether it’s a miracle or some misfortunate. Be prepared to face the worse.

Proverb 4: Those who care cannot rest. (Variation: Those who are concern cannot sleep).

Probably self-explained, but in Danticat’s experience, those who want to fight for justice should continue to fight until it is achieved.

Proverb 5: When you see an old bone in the street, remember that it once had flesh.

Personally, this is my favorite proverb out of the five. As Danticat explained, the memoir is putting the flesh on the bone of Uncle Joseph and that the memoir is also dedicated to his father and as a tribute to family. It can be said the same for other memoirs, such as Patti Smith’s Just Kids. Her memoir is the bone and she attempts not only to cover that bone with flesh of her own, but of Rob’s flesh also. Overall, with this proverb, Danticat provides us with crucial advice: “Don’t forget the great sacrifices that others have made for us.”

First of all, I thought the setting couldn’t get any worse compared to the Metropolitan Opera House. Even less leg room and the large steps…I almost fell on the first step down because I didn’t realize how low each step was.  I began to develop more fear of heights, just thinking about flying off the seats, diving towards the bottom floor below. Aside from that, knowing that we would be listening to Beethoven, I was quite excited for the orchestra to begin playing.

I recognized the Beethoven pieces that the orchestra was going to play, but I was interested in comparing the orchestra playing them to listening to them via online. Also, I’m sure many people would recognize a section of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 in A Major in the media (such as in random moments on television on shows or commercials).

I was fascinated by how a group of the same instruments created a voice, responding to other group of the same/similar instruments. When all the instruments played together, that synchronicity created one loud voice. In the playbill, I came across a paragraph on Beethoven as the Dionysian Maestro:

“Commentators of the time imply that Beethoven himself tended toward the Dionysian version when conducting [Symphony No. 7]. According to these accounts, Beethoven gyrated about on the podium, bending down deeply for diminuendos and leaping up for crescendos, his podium manner made all the more bizarre by his deafness” (p.30).

I did notice something Dionysian about the symphony, in which I noticed some pandemonium…either the instruments all at once played at a loud, chaotic volume or the group of the same/similar instruments began to play separately, thus creating separate voices.

Overall, the event was a great first-time visit to Carnegie Hall with a great orchestral performance.

…are all pathetic.  When I read through the libretto a few days ago before the opera, I did notice how inferior the women were in the opera (and that wasn’t surprising, because during that time period, women were subservient to men [side note: could also be seen in Shakespeare’s plays]). However, during the opera, the actors, the pace, and possibly the music emphasized those parts to the point that they become quite comical (ultimately showing how pathetic the women were). Actually, I noticed that some parts I didn’t recognize from the libretto…

Zerlina asks Masetto (as she treats his injuries) to forgive her by allowing Masetto to do anything to her body as he pleases (such as ripping her eyes out). Donna Anna wants to go to the convent after Don Ottavio achieves revenge on the murderer who killed Donna Anna’s father (Don Giovanni). Donna Elvira…oh, come on, really? She would really go back to Don Giovanni after all that has happened?

Aside from that, the place was elegant and so were most of the people. The opera exceeded my expectations, and I admit that it’s better to witness that actual play rather than simply reading the libretto. My favorite part had to be Don Giovanni entering into hell. As the opera approached that scene, I was wondering how the scene would be portrayed. Would they cover the structures in sheets with hell’s fires illustrated on them? Would they play around with the lighting? I didn’t expect they would use ACTUAL fire in that scene (I wonder how rehearsal is like?).

I know this might be a little late, but I will be reviewing the author reading by Edwidge Danticat. Every freshman entering Brooklyn College this semester was assigned to read the book, Brother, I am dying for their English class. After reading the book, I was blown away by Danticat’s writing style. I didn’t believe that such a story could be real with such a tragic ending. However, by attending the event and to see Danticat in person, I was able to connect the story to a face. The whole time I was there, I couldn’t believe that Edwidge actually went through all that. It was also shocking and heartbreaking to hear that Maxo died in the Haiti earthquake.  It was really sad to know that Edwidge’s uncle who was escaping from the gangs in his country couldn’t find refuge in a country that upholds the values of democracy.  Instead, he was held hostage because he was Haitian. Edwidge’s words, “Those who care, don’t rest” really touched me. Meaning that if you really want to make a difference and change society, you won’t stop because of small obstacles.

Edwidge’s determination and efforts really touched my heart. I wasn’t the only one as some people around me became teary after listening to her words. Danticat’s story and seeing her in person was a really good start to my college life. Her life and book are about rising above each other’s differences and doing something to make your society more aware so that something like racism doesn’t stop someone from helping fellow humans. To be honest Brother, I am dying made me teary twice. When Edwidge’s uncle died and after listening to Edwidge talk in person. I am grateful to Brooklyn College for picking such a nice book to help freshman transition into college life and to give us a chance to see her in person.

This excerpt from the Times review of the Beethoven concert struck me as interesting. The reviewer writes of his

conversation with a young man in a T-shirt emblazoned with another logo: that of Bathory, a revered Swedish black-metal band.

“Beethoven and Quorthon are my heroes,” my neighbor said earnestly. (Quorthon was the working name of Bathory’s founder, Tomas Forsberg.) Both, he proposed, were rugged individualists who brooked no compromise in forging an original, enduring style. When the orchestra came onstage he raised his right hand, index finger and pinkie extended: the orthodox heavy-metal salute.

One more thing: This was my neighbor’s first live encounter with Beethoven’s music. He had paid for a prime ticket for the Wednesday performance, and planned to be in a balcony for the orchestra’s second concert on Thursday.

Last night was the first time I had ever been at Carnegie Hall, and it was an experience. Even after climbing up all those stairs, I didn’t completely comprehend how high up I was until I looked down. I realized that if one were to trip and fall onto the row in front one’s self, one would end up rolling off the balcony. This thought, along with intense contemplation about exactly how high we were, and how close the ceiling was, brought back a paralyzing fear of heights for a few seconds. I got rid of the acrophobia (fear of heights) by looking around at my fellow audience, and after some time discovered that it was a prime location for people watching. However, before my overactive imagination could get the best of me, the orchestra began. It was then that I noticed the microphones hanging from the ceiling. Those must have been some strong wires. If someone positioned herself right, she could swing herself, Tarzan-style, from one balcony to another. They must need very tall ladders to reach the ceiling to set up and fix the microphones. The lights also caught my attention. I noticed that not a single bulb was out, and that the giant circle of lights in the middle of the ceiling wasn’t reachable by balcony. I hope that the person who changes the light bulbs has good life insurance.

When I finally glanced down at the musicians, their all-black dress code caused my nomadic thoughts to wander even further away from the galaxy where they had originated. If Sir John Eliot Gardiner was trying to imitate how the pieces were performed in Beethoven’s time, why are the musicians not dressed in breeches and corsets? Accidental anachronisms only discredit a performance. Although, I will concede that it would be hard for the female cellists to hold their instruments in giant poufy dresses.