Few if any other composers in the history of European art music have inspired more words on paper than Ludwig van Beethoven. Even during his lifetime (b. 1770–d. 1827), Beethoven’s music inspired both heated debate and thoughtful reaction among some of the era’s most influential critics and philosophers, a discourse which would only intensify after his death and establish him as a singular force in musical thought and a formidable challenge for future composers. His seemingly all-encompassing absorption of the musical language of the 18th century, and his mastery over the full range of its expressive potential, attracted notice among connoisseurs, fortuitously as newly established concert-giving institutions and specialized journals began to conceive of and shape a canon of musical works. At the same time, many other listeners sensed that his music—in its dynamism and rude, often explosive contrasts—projected a sui generis compositional persona, a perception which spurred on his younger creative peers. If there is a red thread in the variegated written responses over the last 250 years, it is the tension between these two views of Beethoven, as a culmination of the past and as a finger pointing firmly toward the future. While words on Beethoven have surely been written in every language in which music is written about, the most essential ones for the modern student or scholar are in German and English, and serious research requires reading proficiency in both languages. Not all of the primary sources have been translated into English, to say nothing of important secondary literature, and in recent years the German academic publishing market has been robustly producing a number of fine compendia and reference works. English-language scholarship has historically distinguished itself, on the other hand, in biography and Sketch Studies. And while it might come as a surprise that there still remain neglected aspects of Beethoven’s body of work, it does not take long for the reader to realize that many words have been devoted to a relatively small corner of his output—namely a handful of Symphonies, String Quartets, piano Sonatas, and other instrumental works that embody what has come to be known as the “heroic style.” Much of the freshest recent scholarship, then, explores the previously marginalized works—music for dancing, singing, worship, the theater, political celebrations—while another belated but welcome development focuses on the historical, intellectual, and aesthetic contexts that shaped his music.
