Fans pick 100 books like Bad Singer

I was struck by the ease with which Hodges moves from her own experience learning the violin to the scientific underpinnings of her subject: from math, physics, and neurology to quantum mechanics, biology, and entanglement theory, always in search of a clue to how music informs our experience of time.

Complex topics are suddenly eased by an anecdote from her personal life and practice: a bow dropping during Paganini or the story of her mother buying her “a red dress, bright as D major.” There’s a quality of searching that runs through these essays, both for scientific meaning in music as well a deeper understanding of the dynamics of her own life. 

This book enticed me with the audacity of its premise: a quasi-mystical connection between classical music and the feral nature of wolves.

Renowned pianist Hélène Grimaud grew up a rambunctious child in southern France who found meaning in the melodies of long-dead composers. Years later, on a dark Florida night, she has a chance encounter with a wolf. Lupine mythologies permeate her story, and psyche.

No longer content to admire wolves from a distance, she later founds a wolf conservation centre in upstate New York. While this book may not be a literary tour-de-force, I was enthralled by the theme of “rewilding” music.

In the words of Joni Mitchell, you “don’t know what you got till it’s gone.” Only a person who has gone deaf partway through life knows what it means to live with and without sound. And music.

In this evocative book, British journalist Bella Bathurst chronicles her profound loss of hearing starting at age 27—and twelve years later, its dramatic return. The health reporter in me gave a thumbs-up to her skillful exploration of the lesser-known science of hearing.

She introduces expert lip readers, soldiers who accept deafness as an occupational hazard, and the copper “ear trumpets” used by Beethoven as his greatest joy ebbed. When Bathurst regains her hearing, I was awed by her description of hearing music anew: “It was a thousand volts of birdsong.”

Baroque in prose and unabashedly erudite, this scholarly memoir by a Pulitzer Prize-winning arts critic may not be for everyone.

But I adored his uncanny descriptions of musical interpretation (such as Glenn Gould’s “flinty” recording of Bach) along with Kennicott’s prickly asides—“I hate the word ‘healing.’” Following the death of his beloved yet cantankerous mother, Kennicott channels his grief into learning to play Bach’s masterwork, the Goldberg Variations.

For a lapsed pianist in midlife, it’s a Herculean task. Unanswerable questions absorb him along the way: What does it mean to know a piece of music? What does it mean to know another human being? Throughout his musings and often comical childhood memories, Kennicott’s devotion to his Baroque master shines clear: “If Bach’s Goldberg Variations are not great, then nothing is.”

Bouton skillfully weaves her personal story of suddenly losing her hearing at age 35 with information about modern hearing technology. I so relate to her account of having to adjust to living with an invisible disability, the impact that her hearing loss had on her career, and the process she went through, from denial, depression, and finally to acceptance. I appreciate how transparent and genuine she is in her disclosure of how painful and difficult hearing loss can be.  

I’ve given this book to family members and friends, for it has many fabulous tips about how to assist those with hearing loss: speak as normally and articulately as possible, rephrase when the person says “what”, turn off the TV and background music, and certainly, don’t whisper in their ear. And, shouting won’t help!

Holston, a journalist and musician, went to bed one night and woke up the next morning virtually completely deaf.

His book is a fascinating account of how he clawed his way back to the hearing world through various misdiagnoses, a failed cochlear implant, and finally, after extensive rehabilitative therapy, a successful cochlear implant. I learned so much about the pros and cons and risks of cochlear implants, and how they have improved greatly over the years.

I loved the way he communicates his profound frustrations and fears through this painful process with a self-deprecating humor that makes the book, despite its serious subject matter, an entertaining as well as educational read.

This book has become a kind of Bible for those with hearing loss, certainly it has for me. Both authors share their own personal experiences with hearing loss, but this book is primarily a wonderful handbook for self-advocacy.

It is chock full of valuable information about how to navigate the hearing loss world; from the latest hearing technology to how to communicate more effectively in the world. I learned new things that I’ve now applied to my life.

I love movies, but unless they are foreign films with subtitles, I’ve always struggled to understand what is being said. But I discovered there are captioning devices that will download in real time what is being said. Just recently, I watched Barbie with a captioning device that fit into my seat’s cup holder. To my delight, I was able to glance down periodically and read all the dialogue. 

This is just one… show more.

I was so engrossed by this poignant memoir that I inhaled it one day. Hay describes how he lost all his hearing in his 20s due to a rare disease that causes tumors that required removal over many surgeries with major side effects and long and difficult rehabs. Honestly, I don’t know how he achieved all that he did while juggling a demanding job and three children.  

Delightfully woven throughout his account is a tale of his musical journey as he is determined to commit to memory the lyrics of his favorite songs while going deaf. I had fun learning about the music that informed his generation. I was also moved by the love between him and his devoted wife, Nora, who unfailingly stood beside him every step of the way.  

It is a poignant account of bravery and resilience as he works hard to live a life as normal… show more.

Paul Longmore assigned Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language for the “Disability in America” course I took. As a folklorist this book hooked me. It is totally unique, combining science (genetics), history, maritime culture, and community. It consolidates sign language “oral histories” documenting a Deaf community’s cultural heritage in Martha’s Vineyard passed through generations. Everyone Here Spoke Sign Language offers an essential message from this tight-knit community where deafness was more a trait than a disability. Understanding how Helen Keller had a Deafblind destiny shaped by her times (as earlier were Deafblind woman should be women Julia Brace and Laura Bridgman), I sometimes wonder if Keller would have been less stressed if she had not been pressured by proponents of auralism like Alexander Graham Bell to learn to speak aloud.

An amazing story of a little boy that lives and enjoys life as any other. Once discovered that he has hearing issues, and receives a hearing aid, he can enjoy life even more. A story that inspires us to be considerate of everyone as disabilities are not always visible.