Heinrich Neuhaus (pronounced NOI-house) was one of the greatest Russian piano pedagogues of the 20th century. His pupils included Emil Gilels, Lazar Berman, and the great, great Sviatoslav Richter, of whom Neuhaus says "I taught him nothing, I was honored to be his teacher." Neuhaus also briefly taught Horowitz, although he shares that honor with Felix Blumenthal.
Neuhaus' book is just the right balance of fascinating anecdote, serious technical information, and encouragement to the dilletante; my favorite line in the entire book: "Whoever is moved by music to the depths of his soul, and works on his instrument like one possessed, who loves music and his instrument with passion, will acquire virtuoso technique; he will be able to recreate the artistic image of the composition; he will be a performer."
Does that sentence move you like it moves me? It's never too late to fall in love, irretrievably, irrevocably, irredeemably, with the piano. I have done it. It's a bittersweet affair, but I'd never give it up. I'm no Horowitz nor Cliburn; I can barely slog through the repertoire. But I stake my all on Neuhaus' great-hearted promise. Now if I only could have had him as my mentor. Damn. Can't win them all.
Read this book if you're insecure about your own pianism; if you have a promising student who needs motivation; if you just need to understand why otherwise normal women and men go absolutely ga-ga around 88 keys made of ebony and ersatz ivory. It's a helluva life! ( )