Violin by Anne Rice

Review by Red Bonney

They say that writing about music is like interpreting architecture through dance. Well, Anne Rice has given it a shot. The writing about music, not the dancing about architecture, but wouldn't that have been interesting too? Anybody want to start a petition (either for or against) please contact my host. (Host here... yeah, please don't.)

The book, Violin, was another ghost story. Stefan, a Russian prince and a gifted violinist from the eighteenth century wanders the spectral world, looking for people to haunt and drive insane with his music. He seems to be driven solely by his angst and self-suffering. Then he meets Triana, a fifty something, frumpy sort of woman, from 1997, whose angst leaves Stefan's miles behind. She feels personally responsible for the deaths of her mother, father, daughter and her husband, and revisits their deathbeds repeatedly throughout the whole book. Angst.

Stefan plays for Triana in her grief for her husband, enthralling her with his gift and they develop some weird sort of relationship bordering on lust. They argue with each other like an old married couple and then Triana steals his Stradivarius when his guard is down and poor Stefan is unable to take it back from her. He takes her instead to his past and shows her how he died for his very fine violin.

The story is so jam packed full of angst, I can't say the word enough, angst, that it hardly seems likely there will be a happy ending to it. The two of them compare and contrast their evil doings in life, how they betrayed their parents etc. They battle each other, fighting for the prize of the Stradivarius. Then they embrace like seasoned lovers, and it's hard to say which of them is the more insane.

As I was reading, I kept picturing Anne Rice as Triana, the main character and I get the impression she did too. And come on, snuggling with a young, handsome rockstar. Who wouldn't want that? It was kind of a frustrating book, with few action scenes and more reminiscences than I care to recount. As I said, she revisited the four great deaths in her life frequently, and got off on it too. Also, much of the descriptions went toward music and if a violin is played in a book, does anyone hear it? She described Beethoven's Ninth and I wished I was listening to Beethoven, it might have affected the way I felt about the book.

Maybe I would have understood it a little better. It's definitely something I have to read again, after I find a disk with Beethoven's Ninth to play in the background. I also think you should read it. It's a vivid, haunting (mind the pun), ghost story with a hint of unrequited romance. And so full of angst you'll think a teenager exploded onto the pages.

Cheers.