The Ballad of the Sad Cafe

“Wunderkind” is the only story in The Ballad of the Sad Café and Other Stories to explore filial and paternal love through the affection that exists between Frances and her teacher, Mr. Bilderbach. Frances is so serious about her piano playing that she spends more time with him and his wife than she does with children her own age. He sees her as a daughter, which makes him sensitive to her struggles: “You see, Bienchen, I know you so well—as if you were my own girl. I know what you have—I’ve heard you play so many things beautifully. You used to —” (88). Mr. Bilderbach knows that Frances is struggling; he demonstrates his care for her, encouraging her and admitting that he sees her as his child. This version of The Mysteries of Love and Affection shows how the connection between two people can strengthen and transcend their relationship. Mr. Bilderbach is more than her teacher, just as she is more than his student to him: He and his wife, who do not have children, see Frances as a part of their family and treat her as such. However, the warmth and love implied by this dynamic are not helpful to Frances. The more Mr. Bilderbach empathizes with Frances, the worse her anxiety over her playing grows—it is not a teacher she risks disappointing, but someone much closer.

Frances’s innate talent is at war with her spirit and performance—the result of her having defined herself by the external label of wunderkind. The extrinsic rewards of being viewed as a prodigy—praise from teachers and critics, articles like the one about Heime—have a negative effect, blocking Frances’s intrinsic motivation and stymying her ability to infuse emotion into her playing. Figurative language shows Frances’s intellectual understanding of the music and her capacity for reproducing this understanding creatively at odds: “She wanted to start it with subdued viciousness and progress to a feeling of deep swollen sorrow. Her mind told her that. But her hands seemed to gum in the keys like limp macaroni and she could not imagine the music as it should be” (87). Frances wants the music to sound “vicious”—an approach that provides a glimpse into her extensive knowledge of and connection to the piece. However, she cannot reproduce the power and strength implied in that description; instead, her flimsy fingers are “limp macaroni” that play weakly. 

McCullers uses descriptive language and imagery to amplify what characters feel. In particular, the stories’ settings often either match or contrast with the characters’ emotions, drawing parallels between these inner lives and external surroundings. For example, “Wunderkind” is set in the winter, as day turns to night: “The frosty cold outside cut into the room. It was growing late and the air was seeped with the pale yellow of the winter twilight. When the door swung to on its hinges, the house seemed darker and more silent than ever” (85). The description of the encroaching cold night mirrors Frances’s despair over her piano playing. The light is fading, just as Frances sees her talent and passion fading; the cold creeps in, just as her anxiety does. To complete the connection between the imagery and emotion, McCullers describes the house as “darker and more silent than ever.” This echoes Frances’s disappointment and disaffection; no longer a wunderkind, Frances feels isolated and like a failure.