"The Dream that Kicks" by Michael Chanan is a classic book of the development (the so-called invention) of cinema. When the book first came out in 1980 it marked a turning point in the study of 19th century moving image. Now, updated for its 1996 edition, it remains as significant as when it came out originally; a very important and pertinent document.

This book was possibly the first that combined a number of perspectives to account for the developments that led to "cinema". As such it still remains one of a small number. Chanan presents the process of invention as resulting from the interplay of a number of factors ranging from discoveries in optics and the theory of perception to the expansion of the capitalist mode of production and the social forces it unleashed. In the course of the book he has a lot to say about all these aspects and their relationship to "cinema". A lot of research has gone in the writing of this book but it manages to avoid the dangers of being dry, boring or difficult. On the contrary it is readable, full of surprises and insight, and transmits to the reader the joy of discovering a history mostly forgotten and ignored.

Chanan discusses a lot of commonly held beliefs that are based on misconceptions. One such point is the explanation of the perception of moving images. Cinema is still very often explained by the phenomenon of persistence of vision. In one of the best chapters, Chanan outlines the development of the theory of perception since the beginning of the 19th century, which has established that persistence of vision plays only a relatively minor role, while the principal reason is the phenomenon of apparent movement, known also as phenomenon-phi. Another major aspect he deals with is the process of the invention of cinema. Chanan shows that cinema was developed by the combined efforts of hundreds of individuals, each one making a more or less significant contribution. The final conclusion of this issue is that the efforts to assign to one particular individual the title of inventor of the cinema are misguided, irrelevant and suspect. Other chapters include issues like patent conflicts; the structure of the music hall and theatre businesses in the 19th century; the invention and development of photography and celluloid. Another positive aspect of the book is its international character. Despite its subtitle ("The prehistory and early years of cinema in Britain") and the associated emphasis on the history in that country it doesn't cover only the developments there. Of course the emphasis is on Britain but, rightly, it covers developments anywhere in the world, as the early history of cinema was an international effort.

On the negative side is the emphasis Chanan puts on certain of his research findings. Even if they are interesting, they did not had to be listed exhaustively in the main body of the book. For example Chanan was able to trace the notes Friese-Greene (a British film pioneer) carried with him when he died, during a film industry meeting. The notes are of interest and fascinating but they do not really fit in his narrative. They would be excellent as an appendix or an extended footnote; even as subject of a separate article but not where they are included. Another negative aspect is the absence of illustrations. This aspect is important, as several of the devices and processes described can only be understood if demonstrated with drawings and photographs. However, these minuses are few and do not reduce the importance of this major book.

This is a book about what audio recording has done to our minds, our culture, our economy, and most of all to our relationship with music. Along the way, Chanan gives an excellent short history of "phonography --" the art of recording sound, from 1902 when Caruso's voice was found to perfectly suited to drowning out surface noise, up to the '90s, when Chuck D of Public Enemy explains that the sound of New York City rap is "more of a headphone thing" because people in the Big Apple don't drive much. Songs from places where you need wheels, like Philadelphia or L.A. are made to be heard on car stereos instead.

The advent of the Edison cylinder, and later the 78 rpm disc, forever changed the fundamental relationship of musician, music, and listener. Prior to recordings, music was etherial, gone forever when the performance was over, and known only to those who were there. When music became a commodity, the performance was separated from a time and place. Moreover, it provided a way to "notate" musical forms (like the blues) that had been transmitted only in person.

Early on, it became apparent that there was big money to be made if one had a hit record -- Caruso personally made over $2 million between 1902 and 1921, when he died -- and corporations were quick to start what we now know as the Record Business. Chanan describes the confluence of technology, copyright law, and popular culture that has made the music scene what it is today: a massive multinational machine, that requires a steady stream of fresh, disposable product.

We are musically different creatures then our ancestors of a century ago. A hundred years ago, no one could have imagined music being used as aural furniture, as it is in an elevator, airport, or dentist's office. Not a single one of our great-great-grandparents ever had the experience of intimately *knowing* a performance as we do -- of having the first note of an overheard Motown song germinate inside your head with 20 years worth of memo! ries, and "hearing" every nuance of horn, snare, and reverb before they occur.

This isn't a book that one blows through in a hurry. I had to keep stopping to reread sentences and let them sink in, and adjust to some new perspective on a topic I thought I knew all about. My modest recording studio seems different now; somehow more powerful and more miraculous. I don't know if I'm a better phonographer for having read _Repeated Takes_, but I do know a lot more about the implications of pressing "Record."