How we cite our quotes: (Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #1
When the lights went off the accompanist kissed her….Not only was everyone there certain of a kiss, they claimed they could identify the type of kiss: it was strong and passionate, and it took her by surprise….Or was it that they wanted her too, all of the men and women in the room, and so they imagined it collectively. They were so taken by the beauty of her voice that they wanted to cover her mouth with their mouth, drink in. Maybe music could be transferred, devoured, owned. What would it mean to kiss the lips that had held such a sound? (1.1)
Yep, this is definitely a kissing book. Sounds like music can produce love in Bel Canto, and it's pretty similar to romantic love.
Quote #2
Certainly he [Mr. Hosokawa] knew (though did not completely understand) that opera wasn't for everyone, but for everyone he hoped there was something. The records he cherished, the rare opportunities to see a live performance, those were the marks by which he gauged his ability to love. Not his wife, his daughters, or his work. He never thought that he had somehow transferred what should have filled his daily life into opera. Instead he knew that without opera, this part of himself would have vanished altogether. (1.9)
Opera and love. May sounds like a stretch if you prefer AC/DC or Justin Biebz, but this quotation shows us once again how much music and love are linked in Bel Canto. Is that because they produce similarly intense experiences? Hmm…
Quote #3
…within a matter of days after [Simon and Edith Thibault's arrival in the host country as ambassadors from France], a most remarkable thing happened: he found her again, like something he never knew was missing, like a song he had memorized in his youth and had then forgotten. Suddenly, clearly, he could see her, the way he had been able to see her at twenty, not her physical self at twenty, because in every sense she was more beautiful to him now, but he felt that old sensation, the leaping of his heart, the reckless flush of desire. (2.20)
Love isn't just produced by art. Sometimes love is good, old-fashioned butterflies for a person, sappy texts and all. Well, okay, terrorists don't really let you send texts to your crush, but it's the same idea. Simon Thibault's love for his wife stays steady throughout the whole book, and it connects him to the world outside the hostage crisis, unlike other characters who almost forget their lives outside by the end of the story.