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17 Sacrifice Sometimes I think of Bach, working a stick with his mouth to get notes he couldn’t reach with his hands and feet, so the sweet catastrophe of counterpoint could break the hearts of his parishioners. And while we’re on the subject of music, think of the monk who dove and dove again into dark archives to rescue from oblivion the Gregorian chants of Leonin and Perotin, whose names have lasted while his remained unknown, though what they’ve dubbed him, Anonymous IV, makes him less unknown than other unknown writers. Still, in the sacrifice business, there’s no guarantee of fame. Remember Annabel Lee Stein, whose brain crawled backward (drawkcab) through the little halls of words? I bet no one can recall the teacher who for years sat patiently coaxing Annabel Lee to read. Sacrifice is slow as a funeral procession in rush-hour traffic, the sort of word other words pass, honking And still, God (doG) is not the only one who sacrificed, 18 as Annabel Lee could tell you, Annabel, a grandmother now, standing by the stove, moving her lips as she reads a cake-mix box. ...


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MARC Record
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