Gianni

Начало книги

“But why not Mozart?” Hoaglund said, shaking his head.

“Schubert, even? Or you could have brought back Bix Beiderbecke, for Christ’s sake, if you wanted to resurrect a great musician.”

“Beiderbecke was jazz,” I said. “I’m not interested in jazz. Nobody’s interested in jazz except you.”

“And people are still interested in Pergolesi in the year 2008?”

“I am.”

“Mozart would have been better publicity. You’ll need more funding sooner or later. You tell the world you’ve got Mozart sitting in the back room cranking out a new opera, you can write your own ticket. But what good is Pergolesi? Pergolesi’s totally forgotten.”

“Only by the proletariat, Sam. Besides, why give Mozart a second chance? Maybe he died young, but it wasn’t all that young, and he did his work, a ton of work. Gianni died at twenty-six, you know. He might have been greater than Mozart if he’d had another dozen years,”

“Johnny?”

“Gianni. Giovanni Battista. Pergolesi. He calls himself Gianni. Come meet him.”

Читать дальше →