Why does everyone think good writing is so easy?

There is no easier way to damage an opera than for a composer to do the words himself

If Sophie's Choice, the new opera based on William Styron's novel, doesn't really work, that might be because a major part of it has been entrusted to an inexperienced amateur. It ought to seem an extraordinary thing for the Royal Opera House to do. The production is in the hands of Trevor Nunn; the orchestra is under the direction of Simon Rattle; the singers are well-known names; the music is by Nicholas Maw. All of them are experienced professionals, and are prepared to be judged by professional standards. The libretto, on the other hand, is by a complete amateur, who evidently has no real idea what he is doing, and it kills the piece.

The only reason that this seems less extraordinary than it actually is, is that the libretto has been written by the composer himself. He makes a point of not using anything but Styron's own lines from the novel, but for all purposes he has written the libretto; has shaped the scenes, selected lines, tried to create a dramatic structure. But Maw's total inexperience and inability to write or construct a piece of dialogue is obvious from beginning to end. Lines of dialogue are lumpen or incredible; scenes are desultory and inconclusive; the whole thing looks like the first draft of someone who does not have much talent, or experience, in writing at all.

Why do composers ever assume that they can write their own words? There's nothing which makes the heart sink, going into an opera, like the words "Music and libretto by ..." Very few good operas have ever been written to a composer's own words. The beauty of Tippett's music makes one forgive his terrible librettos; Richard Strauss's Intermezzo is an embarrassment from beginning to end; Moses und Aron, interesting as it is musically, has no dramatic potential at all. And those are the best; a thousand forgotten operas have been ruined by their composers' belief that it can't be all that hard to write a libretto, so why not save a bit of money on the royalty payments? With the single exception of Wagner, who was an expert and sophisticated writer in his own right, there is no easier way to damage an opera than for a composer to do the words himself.

There is a general point here, which is that the skill and ability involved in writing sentences is generally underrated, and assumed to be a much more universal capacity than it really is. A composer or a painter will need to undergo a good deal of rigorous training before they can exercise their art form; a writer only needs to practise, and polish what, to a certain degree, he can already do. Most people know that they couldn't write even a very bad song, or paint a picture, and understand their limits in that regard. On the other hand, everybody can talk, or write prose after some fashion, so it is not quite clear to them that they don't actually have the ability to do it to a professional standard. That ability is quite a rare one.

I'm not suggesting that writing ought to be a closed shop, or carried out only by someone from an approved list, but people ought to understand that intelligence alone does not qualify anyone to write well or vividly. Nor does creativity in one field necessarily imply creative ability in another. There are very few good painters, for instance, who have written well; probably no more than half a dozen, and after Alberto Savinio, Michelangelo, Klee and Vasari, one is struggling to find very many other examples.

But then very few people, all in all, can write at all well, with any kind of spark or imaginative focus. A person can devote unbounded energy to writing, can write perfectly grammatically, and yet be absolutely tone-deaf to anything that matters; can never write a memorable sentence, a plausible line of dialogue, put together a scene with the right kind of rhythm or vividness. In these circumstances, one is polite and encouraging, but it would be more honest to say, "I'm sorry; you can't write. Most people can't. Try something else."

We don't underrate writers in this country, on the whole; authors are regarded with great love and affection, and properly honoured by their readership. But what we do underrate is the technical skill and native genius so rarely conferred on people. People are always saying "I should write a novel one of these days," as if it were only time which prevented anyone from writing another Bleak House. What they should be saying is what they say when they see a great sculpture, a stunning display of gymnastics, or hear a coloratura soprano: "I don't know how that is done."

The art of writing a remarkable poem, a powerful scene in a play, a moving chapter in a novel is at least as demanding and inexplicable as the practice of any other art form. If composers think, lightly, "Oh, I could write some dialogue as well as anyone else," they are not just underrating the difficulty of doing such a thing, but, inevitably, entrusting the success of their own work to a complete amateur, and inviting disaster.

p.hensher@independent.co.uk