Review of Tenderwire, by Claire Kilroy

Hi all,

Though I read this novel a few years ago, I never had the chance to review it. I remember it being an intriguing, strange read about a young violinist. Though the author isn’t a violinist, I recall the writing had good ‘violinist’ insight.

You might enjoy reading some reviews on this book at Mostly Fiction, Curled Up With a Good Book, and Steph’s Book Reviews.

About the author:

Claire Kilroy was born in 1973 in Dublin, Ireland and was educated at Trinity College. Her first novel, All Summer, was the recipient of the 2004 Rooney Prize for Irish Literature and was short-listed for the Kerry Group Irish Fiction Award. She lives in Dublin.

Happy reading!

Review of FourEver Friends, by former violinist Erica Miner

Set in Detroit in 1960, FourEver Friends is an engrossing story for those readers interested in music and the violin. Written in first person from the point of view of the protagonist, Jessica, the story spans three years as she is admitted into a competitive, prestigious high school at the age of fourteen and later graduates at seventeen.

When the story begins, Jessica lives with her Jewish, conservative family. Though she has a nice, caring home, she’s not too open at communicating with her mother and father. She is encouraged to play the violin, but her father always reminds her to see herself and her future as a concert violinist and never as a soloist. But, from the beginning, Jessica questions the adults around her. She’s ambitious and has her own mind. Why should her father decide whether or not she should become a soloist? He’s also controlling in other ways, especially with boys, and when Jessica begins to date a German boy, more tension arises.

But for Jessica, studying music and practicing the violin come first, so it’s no surprise when she gets a full scholarship at a very competitive, prestigious high school. There, she learns how tough it is to stay on top surrounded by talented, hard-working students. She must prove herself and this isn’t easy. The stress pulls her into the vortex of anorexia, among other things. Fortunately, she has her best friends to support her.

The novel takes the reader through all the ups and downs a violin student goes through in order to excell. Jealous friends, insensitive teachers, and lack of a proper social life are just some of the things she endures. Is Jessica strong enough to survive all obstacles, or will she give up?

FourEver Friends is partly a story about friendship but although the book cover shows four friends, I feel the story is more about two friends: Jessica and Marg. The two other characters, though they also share their love of music, stay mostly in the background and only come up once in a while. The novel can be considered ‘coming of age’ because it shows Jessica’s growth during those three years. Mostly, though, it is Jessica’s story. The book has a ‘diary’ feel to it, as it is written using mostly narration and not so much dialogue. I would also like to point out that this work is focused on characterization and not so much on plot. Very little happens plot wise, so the reader won’t find any twists and turns. It is simply a well-written first person account of what a violin student goes through in a prestigious school. I particularly loved all the references to composers and musical pieces; the novel is filled with them and this is one thing musicians or music students who read this novel will enjoy.

I recently asked the author what the inspiration for the book was and this is what she had to say:

“It’s loosely based on my teenage journals and my experiences at the real high school where the story takes place, Cass Technical High School. This school, kind of like a combination of New York’s High School of Music and Art and the Bronx High School of Science, with a plethora of other specialties added to the mix, was a unique opportunity for kids of that age to ‘specialize’ in their field of interest, and ‘major’ in a curriculum of their choice. Some of the students in the Music Curriculum went straight from high school to the Detroit Symphony; that is an example of the extraordinary level of education afforded by this school. College was almost a let-down for me after that. In four years being in that orchestra, whose conductor was my mentor, an amazing Russian man who was totally devoted to his students, we studied and/or performed all of the major symphonies and other symphonic works of the great masters: Beethoven, Brahms, Schumann, Mendelssohn, Sibelius, Tchaikovsky – I could go on ad infinitum. It was a life-altering experience for me. Even now, whenever I hear a piece I had played there, the first thought that occurs to me is: ‘I played that at Cass Tech.’ What a wonderful foundation for my subsequent musical life! AND the three closest friends I bonded with during those years – my ‘FourEver Friends’ – well, we’re still each other’s closest friends. The book is a love letter to them, and I wanted to share our story with the world. There’s so much love there!”

Visit the author’s WEBSITE.

Read my INTERVIEW with the author.

Review of The Violin Lover, by Susan Glickman

The Violin Lover is a beautifully written novel, one that fans of violin music, as well as readers of serious literary fiction, will particularly appreciate.

The story takes place in England during the start of the Second World War, just before the invasion of Hitler into Germany. Young widow Clara Weiss lives with her three young children in a Jewish sector of London. Her oldest son, Jacob, is eleven years old and a gifted pianist. Clara lives for her children and is extremely protective towards them, her nurturing qualities sometimes falling into compulsive obsession.

At a Christmas concert one night, Clara is introduced to Ned Abraham, not only a medical doctor but also an accomplished violinist. At once, Clara is taken with the tall, mysterious man with the dark hair and black, deep-set eyes. Jacob’s music teacher insists he should play a piece with Jacob in the future, and this is how Ned takes young Jacob under his wing. Soon, the attraction between Clara and Ned intensifies, and they become secret lovers. In time, and as their relationship progresses, Clara begins to feel jealous of Jacob and Ned’s bond and resents their friendship. Their liason, which is mostly characterized by Clara’s dependence and Ned’s indifference, ends up having tragic consequences for all involved.

The Violin Lover is a compelling, unusual read. Though it moved a bit slow in the beginning, it picked up pace after the first few chapters and by the middle I had become quite engrossed. Glickman is a fine writer and this shows in her smooth, sometimes symbolic prose. There are small segments in the story which really are allegories of Clara’s obsessive dependence and controlling behavior, like the part where she insists that ducks in the river must be fed or they’ll die; she’s unable to realize that ducks may very well survive on their own. This also symbolizes her over protectiveness toward her children, especially with Jacob, who is growing into a young man and needs more independence, something she is unable to offer.

The relationship between Clara and Ned is both dark and fascinating. Glickman’s has an obvious gift for characterization, as well as for showing the characters’ emotions rather than spelling them out. The story is mostly narrative with not as much dialogue as I expected. There are many sections where the story is quickly narrated instead of being shown with actual dialogue and characters’ actions, and this made the pace feel a bit rushed at times. It is a novel that will make readers ponder: who is the villain and who is the victim? Clara or Ned? I think readers will love and hate both of them at some point or another.

If you love classical music or play the piano or the violin, you will enjoy the music descriptions, told with the sensibility of someone who shares this same passion.

This novel is available on Amazon.

Book Review: Molly and the Sword, by Robert Shlasko

Molly and the Sword
By Robert Shlasko
Illustrated by Donna Diamond
Jane & Street Publishers
www.janeandstreet.com
ISBN: 978-0-9745077-4-3
Hardcover, 32 pages, $15.95
Ages 7-12

Molly and the Sword is a lovely, historical picture book about a young girl violinist who has a moment of doubt as she is about to play in a grand concert hall.

The story begins with Molly as a little girl, singing in their home’s yard while her mother works in their vegetable garden. From early on, she loves music. Then something horrible comes to what used to be their peaceful village: War.

With her mother pregnant and no water to drink, their situation becomes desperate. It is then that Molly decides to do something about it. In spite of the danger, she ventures into the next village in search of water. There, she is captured by the enemy, who take her for a spy. That is, until a handsome enemy officer saves her life and grants her freedom. Thus Molly, unharmed, goes back to her family.

Time passes and the war is over. One day, Molly is captivated by a clown playing the violin in a passing circus. When her birthday arrives, her father exchanges his most valuable grandfather clock for a violin, and brings it to Molly as a gift.

It is the 19th century, when few girls had the courage to become musicians because of prejudice. But Molly loves her violin and, more than anything, she wishes to play well and become a great violinist. Day after day, she works hard at her lessons. Then a wonderful opportunity comes her way, but on the day she is to perform in a famous concert hall, her courage falters and she’s overcome with fear. Will she succeed? Will she make her family and teacher proud?

Then Molly receives a strange gift–a golden sword encrusted with jewels–and she remembers the feeling of bravery she experienced years ago. Will this give her the courage she needs to play on stage? And who is the handsome stranger sitting in the audience? Could it be the officer who once saved her life?

This is a charming picture book with a nice traditional feel to it. It is actually an illustrated chapter book, as the story is separated by very short chapters, each about 3 pages long. The prose flows like soft music, suiting well the theme and the violin element. The author puts forth an important message for all children, especially violin students, about self-esteem, courage, and the need to work hard in order to achieve our dreams. The fourteen illustrations, realistic in style and done in soft pastel colors, add to the quiet tone and complement the story beautifully. I’d especially recommend this book to music teachers and to parents of children who play the violin, to give to them as gifts. Having said that, this isn’t a book just for young violinists, but one which will make a nice addition to any home, class, or library shelf.

Reviewed by Mayra Calvani

About the author: Robert Shlasko is a writer and editor whose work has taken him on assignments from Sweden to Samoa. In addition, his fiction and nonfiction have appeared in leading children’s magazines. Although he has not mastered a musical instrument (thus far!), others in his family play the violin, the cello and the piano. The author enjoys listening to them all.

About the illustrator: Donna Diamond is a graduate of the High School of Music and Art in New York City and of Boston University School of Fine and Applied Art. She has illustrated over 50 books for children and lives in New York City with her daughter.

Nina’s Waltz, by Corinne Demas

Nina’s Waltz
by Corinne Demas
Illustrated by Deborah Lanino
Orchard Books
ISBN: 0-531-30281-4
Copyright 2000
Children’s picture book, 32 pages, $16.95

Author’s website: www.corinnedemas.com

Reviewed by Mayra Calvani

Early one morning in the serene landscape of the countryside, Nina and her Dad take a trip to a fair, where a violin contest will take place. The prize is two hundred dollars, money they need, as they’re a poor family. Her dad, who in Nina’s eyes is the best player in the whole world, plans to play a tune he wrote especially for Nina, “Nina’s Waltz”. Once at the fair, however, a wasp stings his hand and he’s unable to play. Who will take his place? Will Nina do it? But how, when she’s petrified by the idea of playing in public?

This is a charming tale about the magic of violin music and the loving bond between father and daughter. The author, using simple yet softly lyrical prose, shows us a glimpse into a young girl’s life and her resolution not to let her dad down. This is also a story about the power of self esteem and believing in oneself. The illustrations are beautiful and even dream-like at times, bringing to life the countryside, Nina, and the ethereal magic of violin music. This would make a lovely present to any little violin player, especially a girl.

I feel sorry when books like this go out of print. Copies are still available from ‘Other sellers’ at Amazon.com.

Stradi’s Violin, by Blenda Bligh

Stradi’s Violin
by Blenda Bligh
Publish America
1-4241-9460-1
Copyright 2007
Paperback, 295 pages, $24.95

This novel spans many years and involves many characters. At its center, it’s the story of Ellen Gibson, a beautiful woman who is propelled to make the biggest mistake of her life–or so it seems–in the name of motherly love.

At the beginning of the story, during the Great Depression, Ellen finds herself cornered. Not only is she pregnant, but her husband has left her with two young children to support, there’s no food left, and the rent for her shack is three weeks overdue. To make matters worse, she’s fired from her job at a hat shop because of a rich, arrogant lady named Amanda McGowan.

A little after she’s fired, the rich lady pays her a strange visit… and it is then that Ellen receives the shocking proposal, a proposal Ellen must not turn down for her own sake as that of her children. Ellen’s decision has major consequences and affects the lives of various characters later in the story.

As the years pass, the reader follows Ellen’s and Amanda’s lives and their family relationships as well as their secret connection to one another. No women could be more opposite. While Ellen is the embodiment of kindness and resignation, Amanda is the perfect example of selfishness and greed. Later on, the plot revolves around their children as they grow to young adults and eventually become romantically involved.

Though the novel has a good premise, and the author has an enthusiasm for writing that comes through the pages, I found the novel disappointing because of several reasons.

The characters of Ellen and Amanda are stereotypical to the point of being cartoonish. No one can be so good or so evil. So in this sense, I found no complexity in the characters. Even a villain must have human characteristics at times. I also don’t understand why the author chose to make Amanda deaf, as this particular trait doesn’t play any kind of role in the plot. I kept waiting for the moment when her deafness would become somehow significant in the story, but the moment never came.

As for Ellen, all I can say is that Melanie Hamilton in Gone with the Wind , in all her incredible goodness, at least was smart. But Ellen is so unbelievably good she falls in the ‘dumb’ category. A protagonist who is good must have character and substance to accompany this goodness.

Another aspect of the novel that broke my suspension of disbelief is that the author chooses to tell big chunks of the story instead of showing them with action and dialogue. Because of this, the novel reads like a synopsis at times. I feel the book would have been improved if the author had taken the time to flesh out these segments instead of simply relating what one character says to another without using active dialogue.

Furthermore, many of the character confrontations, especially toward the end of the book, read like a script from a soap opera–tilted and predictable, and there are abrupt switches of point of view in the same page without a double space between the paragraphs, so you find yourself suddenly realizing that you’re in another character’s mind and in a completely different setting. This was very annoying.

Finally–and this is by far the most disappointing aspect of the book–the author obviously failed to do any research about violin playing and violinists. For instance, she puts the young violinist in the story, only five years old, playing a full-size Stradivarious. The way this character is described when playing the violin is superficial and doesn’t ring true. There is no ‘feeling’ in these descriptions, those musical feelings so well described by musicians who write fiction or at least by those non-musician authors who conduct research before setting to write this type of scene.

And last, the cover of the book and the title are misleading. The novel has nothing to do with violins or violinists. Only that one secondary character mentioned is a child violinist, but violin music doesn’t play a role in the story.

In sum, Stradi’s Violin reads like a first draft and has too many technical problems for me to recommend it. Bligh’s writing flows very nicely at times and, as I said, her love for storytelling comes through. Unfortunately, these things aren’t enough to publish a book. What this novel needs is a good professional editor.

Reviewed by Mayra Calvani

Review of THE SAVIOR, by Eugene Drucker

The Savior
By Eugene Drucker
Simon and Schuster
July 2007
208 pages
$23.00

Reviewed by Terez Rose

Eugene Drucker, violinist and founding member of the acclaimed Emerson Quartet, takes a heavy subject—the Holocaust—and uses his musician’s sensibilities to produce a searing, unforgettable pitch-perfect story. Gottfried Keller is a German violinist, languishing in the troubled, waning days of World War II. Unable to fight for Germany due to a weak heart, he has been conscripted into performing for convalescing soldiers in hospitals. One morning, however, he is picked up by the SS and delivered to a labor camp outside town. There, the cultured yet depraved Kommandant instructs him to present four concerts as part of an experiment: can classical music revive the spirits of a select group of nearly-dead concentration camp victims?

Keller has seen the smokestacks of the compound’s windowless brick buildings, belching out acrid smoke. “Rubber-making factory,” he and his neighbors have been told. He now sees the camp’s grey-faced, skeletal workers shuffling in the distance. Reluctantly he agrees to the Kommandant’s plan, well aware that he has few alternatives.

Drucker’s passages of describing music are nothing short of exquisite—he offers the detail and insight of a musicologist with the appealing brevity and clarity of an artist mindful of his audience. Keller first performs Paganini’s Caprice Number Nine in E Major, a virtuoso masterpiece.

“The lighthearted opening theme of the Ninth alternates with more dramatic sections in minor keys. There are fistfuls of chords, rapid scales in the high register and a passage of ricochet, a special technique in which the bow is thrown onto the string to produce a series of rebounding notes.”

Keller’s performance, however, is met with an unexpected response. There is only a grim, absolute silence until the Kommandant shouts at the inmates to clap. As the guards press closer with their guns, they begin to clap mechanically, and then won’t stop.

“He got ready to play [again], but their hands still came together with grim regularity as they stared straight ahead. He brought down his violin and looked around, not knowing what to do. Finally a guard stamped his foot, just once, and there was silence.”

Images like these—eerie and psychologically complex—are what keep this novel from being “just another Holocaust story.” The subtlety of it, the simplicity and freshness of the images are much like the music of Bach and Mozart—deceptively simple to the untrained ear, but revealing layer upon layer of complexity to those who choose to dig further.

The story is peppered with flashbacks to Keller’s days as a music student at Cologne’s prestigious Hochschule, and his relationship with fellow students Ernst (based on his own father who emigrated to the U.S. in 1938) and Marietta, both of whom are Jewish and must soon flee the country in the wake of growing persecution.

Keller’s final student days in 1935, including his developing closeness and romantic interest in Marietta, are lyrical and bittersweet. There is no easy solution for the two lovers—she begs him to audition for a newfound orchestra bound for Palestine, but his Aryan status works against him here. One solution, proposed by Marietta, is to find him forged papers that would state he was a Jew. A dangerous plan in 1935 Nazi Germany for a musician who wants to avoid trouble and simply play his music in his homeland. The reader doesn’t know whether to cheer the spirited Marietta on or to hastily push her out the door and lock it.

The novel, like life, has irony, not least of which is its title. Keller plays his music in an attempt to save both himself and his dispirited audience, which include Grete, a woman he briefly befriends. Not all his listeners, however want to be saved. Some deeply resent this attempted return of beauty and culture to their lives; they recognize the trick being played on them.

Irony appears again in Rudi, an SS camp guard, who, surprisingly, reveres classical music and Bach as deeply as Keller. The two engage in a spirited discussion over Bach’s “Saint Matthew’s Passion,” specifically the violin solo that depicts Judas trying to reject his earned thirty silver pieces. Rudi’s ambivalence over his own role is clear, particularly when he declares Judas “was just the pawn of larger forces.”

Keller cannot remain blind to what is happening, particularly after he discovers a warehouse holding thousands of pairs of shoes. “Men’s, women’s children’s. Mostly simple walking shoes, but also a sprinkling of sandals, heavy boots and house slippers. Some were in good condition, but most of them were dried out, dusty, weather-beaten, shapeless, a mute chorus of gaping mouths.” But Keller’s only choice is to continue performing, concluding with a searing rendition of Bach’s masterpiece, the Chaconne from his Partita in D Minor, with unexpected and devastating consequences for both him and his audience.

Drucker has not written a sentimental, moralistic tale. Gottfried Keller is neither perpetrator, victim, hero or dissident. He is an average German citizen, slow—or perhaps unwilling—to comprehend the full extent of the atrocities being committed, and the story’s pacing reflects this. What starts as a gently melancholy read culminates in a violent, disturbing climax (perhaps a bit too heavy-handed for such an otherwise subtly-rendered novel). Here, then, is a thought-provoking exploration of conscience, a bittersweet take on a culture that gave us both Hitler and Bach. A powerful story, a must-read for classical music and arts enthusiasts.

–Terez Rose’s stories and essays have appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Literary Mama, Espresso Fiction, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel and various anthologies. She has reviewed book for Mid-American Review, Peace Corps Writers, Midwest Book Review and MostlyFiction.com. An adult beginner on the violin, she maintains a violin-related blog at http://www.violinist.com/blog/terez. Visit her at www.terezrose.com.

Book Review: VIVALDI’S VIRGINS, by Barbara Quick

Vivaldi’s Virgins
By Barbara Quick
HarperCollins
July 2007
304 pages
$24.95

Reviewed by Terez Rose

In the early eighteenth century, Venice was a bustling, exotic city-state, thriving with trade and art, with no less than four public institutions for the housing and upkeep of the city’s less favored population. The Ospdale della Pietà, an orphanage of sorts for foundling and unwanted children, is the setting, then, for Barbara Quick’s Vivaldi’s Virgins. Anna Maria dal Violin—orphans are given a last name according to their instrument of skill—is plucked from the commun at an early age to join the figlie di coro, an elite group of performers under the direction of maestro Antonio Vivaldi, nicknamed the “Red Priest” for the color of his hair and the vocation he neglects in favor of composing. The virgins in question are his all-female musicians, cloistered within the Pietà’s walls, obscured from public view even when performing.

The story is less about Vivaldi and the violin, however, and more about an adolescent’s search for self, for clues about the mother she never knew. Encouraged by Sister Laura, a cloistered nun and friend, to write letters to this absent mother, Anna Maria pours her questions, thoughts and hopes into missives that punctuate the story and set its poignant tone.

There is a lot to like here: the writing is elegant and flows well; descriptions of Venetian society are detailed and evocative. Music is presented in a light, poetic fashion that will please readers whose classical music tastes run along the lines of Pachelbel’s “Canon in D,” Mozart’s “Eine Kleine Nachtmusik” and Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons.”

Anna Maria, based on a real life violin virtuoso to whom Vivaldi dedicated thirty-seven compositions, is a spirited sort. Sneaking out with a friend to attend an opera; secreted by Vivaldi to a nobleman’s masked ball at his palazzo; escaping to attend a celebration in the Jewish Ghetto—these events bring adventure to her life, but continually land her in trouble. Her ensuing punishments demonstrate well the confining nature of life within the Pietà’s walls and the institutionalized element that defines Anna Maria’s world.

During one such punishment, Anna Maria comments in a letter to her mother that “I’ve come to believe that music is the one companion, the one teacher, the one parent, the one friend who will never abandon me.” In musings such as these, Quick has aptly captured the saving grace of music that serves as a religion of sorts for many of us. For the violin-savvy reader seeking insight into the life and mind of a virtuoso, however, this story dishes up thin fare. We’re told Anna Maria is a violin prodigy, how she works hard in trying to memorize and play Vivaldi’s challenging music. We hear that the coro “played very well,” and that “I played for my teacher, just as skillfully, just as beautifully, as I was able.” But what we’re missing are the details.

An aside here, if I might. The violin is not the piano—you don’t just learn notes, plunk them out with the keys and then spend the rest of the time practicing till the music flows smoothly from your finger. Fretless instruments allow infinite opportunities to subtly vary intonation—both a challenge and an opportunity violinists can spend their entire lives trying to master, necessitating hours of daily scales, arpeggios and etudes before passage work can even begin. A violinist’s relationship with this temperamental instrument is intense and enduring—both the violinist’s best friend and her harshest taskmaster. No player is unaffected by the beauty of the instrument, its glowing surface and shape, much like the body of a woman—surely of note to the lonely, motherless Anna Maria. Greater description and detail here, along these lines, would have gone a long way indeed.

What the reader does get are Anna Maria’s feelings when playing, which are lyrically, if vaguely expressed. “The first movements went beautifully well, with notes yielding, sweetening as my fingers found their hiding places and called them into the air. They followed my bow as if I were the leader of a great army of musician warriors: I made them sing.”

Singing, and the broader subject of music in general, is where Quick seems to hone in more successfully on description. One wonderfully depicted event that demonstrates both music and the ribald pageantry of Venice takes place inside the Teatro Sant’ Angelo, which Anna Maria’s friend has dragged her out to attend. There, they encounter both nobility and working class alike, in silks and rain-soaked woolens respectively, all faces covered by the masks Venetians favored in public during the long season of Carnival. The two girls take seats and observe, gape-mouthed, as the drama plays out, both onstage and off—high entertainment for the reader as well.

Later, the ensuing nighttime gondola ride back to the Pietà allows Anna Maria to revel at more natural wonders: “The sky on a clear night is a living, pulsating thing. The stars are like musical notes turned to light, and, like notes, they shimmer and swell and fade and fall.”

Like these stars, Vivaldi’s Virgins has a vivid, affecting trajectory, swelling perhaps a bit too early, but subsiding elegantly to produce a satisfying, heart-warming read. Recommended for fans of Anita Dunant’s In the Company of the Courtesan who seek a milder, more sentimental touch, with a dollop of classical music thrown in for sweetness.

-Terez Rose’s stories and essays have appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Literary Mama, Espresso Fiction, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel and various anthologies. She has reviewed book for Mid-American Review, Peace Corps Writers, Midwest Book Review and MostlyFiction.com. An adult beginner on the violin, she maintains a violin-related blog at http://www.violinist.com/blog/terez. Visit her at www.terezrose.com.

Interview with Kristy Kiernan and review of her novel, CATCHING GENIUS

Today on Violin and Books is talented author Kristy Kiernan, whose first novel, CATCHING GENIUS, has garnered some stunning reviews. Kristy talks about inspiration, music, her working habits, finding a publisher, and her other works. At the end of the interview is a review of CATCHING GENIUS by author/violinist Terez Rose.

Please tell us about your book, Catching Genius. What was your inspiration for this story and what prompted you to make the protagonist an amateur violinist?

Catching Genius is about sisters; Estella was diagnosed as a genius at seven, and Connie, five at the time, became a violinist in an effort to draw her father’s attention back to her. Now in their forties, the sisters must come together and work things out, which is made harder by the facts that they’re both hiding the reality of the current lives from each other and that Connie’s youngest son, Carson, seems to have inherited some genius of his own.

Connie being a violinist was a decision made right at the beginning of my brainstorming. I have always yearned to be able to play the violin, but in many ways, the yearning itself was enough. Sort of like a crush on a movie star, I felt that the fantasy of it was likely more exciting and mysterious (for me) than the reality. I knew that even to become proficient a player must put in hours of work every day, and that sort of passion in my life was reserved for writing. I’ve never been good at multi-tasking when it came to creative energy, so this was a great way for me to explore that other fantasy life I occasionally indulged myself in, in the medium I chose to express myself in.

Sneaky way to live your dreams, huh?

Tell us about the writing process while working on this novel. How much time passed from the actual idea to the published book? Did you get caught up at times or did it flow evenly from start to finish?

Hahahahaha…ahhhh, sorry, it was that whole “flow evenly” bit that got me! From actual idea to published book? Five, six years maybe? But keep in mind, that an actual idea might fester for years before it becomes impossible to ignore, and that the publishing process itself (selling, editing, proofing, typesetting, production, distribution) often takes over a year. This book, from first word on the page to selling to a publishing house took two years.

And yes, I absolutely got “caught up.” I got caught up in the research for months at a time, for both the math aspects as well as the music aspects. Perhaps an eighth of what I learned during that time is in the novel. Maybe a sixteenth. At one point I was sitting in bed at three in the afternoon, still in my pajamas, hair wild, surrounded by open books on Tesla, math theory, and the nature of genius, and watching “Pi” a black & white movie about numerology, Jewish mysticism, and the stock market, and I realized that I thought I might be on the verge of decoding the secret of the universe.

Yeah.

That was when I knew it was time to put the research away and finish the book!

From violin-related novels I’ve read, I know it’s very difficult for a non-violin player to write effectively about the violinist’s ’soul’. What type of research did you have to do in order to get into the mind, heart and soul of a violinist, and to get all the details right?

You and your readers might find this horribly egotistical, but hear me out first: I didn’t find the violinist’s soul at all difficult to write effectively about. I would find it incredibly difficult to write effectively about the soul of someone who wasn’t deeply invested in the creative process. Don’t you, as a violinist, feel connected to others who make their living (financially or emotionally) in a creative field?

Our disciplines might be different, but I can’t help but feel that our passions are the same. We want to get lost in the beauty of what stirs us, we strive to perfect it to the best of our ability, even when we know perfection is an illusion, and we come back to it, over and over, even when our imperfection breaks our hearts.

What is your working environment like? Do you write in longhand or at the computer? Are you disciplined?

My hand cramps even when I just sit down to write out bills! No, no longhand for me. I love the computer, I love the decisive sound of the keyboard. I started out on computers fairly early, in the eighties, so it’s a very natural thing for me. My working environment, aside from a keyboard, is pretty fluid. I work on a laptop, so at any given moment I am working on my sofa (as I am right now, two throw pillows behind me, legs up, TV on, glass of chardonnay on the coffee table), or I could be in bed, on the patio (I live in Florida, so I can work outside most of the year), in a hotel room, on a plane, etc…

I am disciplined when I need to be. I tend to take discipline in doses. Deadline? No problem, never missed one. Lots of time? Well, then I’m a daydreamer. I think a lot before I sit down and do the thing. When I know it’s time, I set a daily word count goal rather than a time limit, usually 2,000 words a day, and then I am militant about it. I swear my husband has to call to remind me to eat.

Some authors walk for inspiration, others keep daily journals or listen to music. What helps you to unleash your creativity?

Music is huge for me. Most often rock, heavy rock. AC/DC inspires me, as does Eminem and Metallica. The I have my Van Morrison and Peter Gabriel times, and my dear friend Terez Rose, a violinist and an extraordinary writer in her own right, made me the most exquisite classical CDs that I put in when I’m need another mindset. I find that my musical tastes change with what type of scene I’m writing or what stage I’m at in the book.

If I’m stuck, thinking too much about the business end, or growing despondent about my abilities it’s: Solsbury Hill by Peter Gabriel, Lose Yourself by Eminem, You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC, Here I Am (Come and Take Me) by Al Green, Rosalita by Bruce Springsteen, I Feel The Earth Move by Carole King, Wooden Ships by CSNY, The Cover of the Rolling Stone by Dr. Hook…yikes, there’s a lot of them. Maybe I should do a whole article on the angry music of determination?

Anyway, different music for different parts of the book, the different stages of the process.

The competition is tough in the publishing world, and a lot of new authors have tremendous trouble finding an agent or publisher. How was this process for you?

Tough. I found an agent on my second book. I didn’t know anyone, didn’t have any contacts, just did it the old fashioned way by sending out a single-paged query letter explaining what my book was about to agents and hoping for a reply.

We (my agent and I) didn’t find a publisher until my fourth book, which was Catching Genius. From the first word on my first book, to holding the published version of Catching Genius in my hand was seven years.

What is the best writing advice you’ve ever got?

The best business advice I got was from Pat Conroy. He encouraged me to help others, which I was already doing, but then he cautioned me that helping others couldn’t come at the expense of my own writing. I spend a lot of time encouraging other writers, especially debut authors, but I try to remember that if I take too much time away from my own work, I won’t have any wisdom to impart to them. It’s a difficult balancing act, and I’ve had some tough times working it out.

The best advice about the craft came from my husband. He told me to stop worrying about what his mother would think when she read it.

Would you like to tell our readers about your other novels?

Well, I don’t know why I wouldn’t and thanks for the opportunity! My next novel is called Matters of Faith and it’s coming out August 5, 2008. It’s about a dysfunctional Florida family (seeing a trend here?), and here’s the description from the back of the book:

Kristy Kiernan made a stunning debut with Catching Genius, her compelling depiction of two sisters facing their mutual past. Now she explores the life of a boy whose search for faith threatens to drive his family apart.

At age twelve, Marshall Tobias saw his best friend killed by a train. It was then that he began his search for faith; delving into one tradition, then discarding it for another. While his parents were at odds over his behavior, they found common ground with his little sister Meghan, whose severe food allergies required careful attention.

Now Marshall is home from college with his first real girlfriend. Meghan is thrilled to have her around, but there is more to Ada than meets the eye—including her beliefs about the evils of medical intervention. What follows is a crisis that tests not only faith, but the limits of family, forgiveness, and our need to believe.

The only music in this one is the daughter, Meghan, is a pianist, and her concentration takes a different turn toward the end of the book, but it’s not a main theme. However, I can’t imagine any book I write not having music, ion one way or another, in it. It’s too important to me, always has been from the time I was a small child, just like writing.

Is there anything else you’d like to say about you or your work?

Buy it or I can’t keep doing it? *sigh* Sad, isn’t it? No, I suppose there comes a point where you have to let the work speak for itself. I hope people enjoy it. I never wanted to write a book, I just always wanted to be a writer. I imagine it must be like being a musician. Do you want to play just one piece? Or do you want to immerse yourself in the music itself, do you want to surround yourself with music, glean what you can from other musicians, talk music, breathe music? That’s how I feel about writing. It’s not The Book, it’s every book, every story, every character.

Is there any violin-related book (fiction and/or nonfiction) that you’ve read and would like to recommend?

Wow, I wouldn’t want to presume to tell a musician what to read, as I imagine a musician might be loathe to tell me what to read about writing, so I’ll just tell you what I did read, and what I enjoyed: 1) The first, the obvious, An Equal Music by Vikram Seth, lovely 2) The Savior by Eugene Drucker 3) The Rosendorf Quartet by Nathan Shaham. There were more, many more, both fiction and non-fiction, but those are the ones that stand out.

Hey, thanks so much, Mayra! I enjoyed this, several questions I’ve not been asked before!

I’m glad you did, Kristy. Thank YOU for taking the time to answer my questions!

Interview by Mayra Calvani, author of The Magic Violin.

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Short review of Catching Genius
by Terez Rose

“I’m sick. I might die,” seven-year-old Estella confesses her younger sister Connie, in the prologue of Kristy Kiernan’s debut novel. “I have eyecue. It’s bad. I have a lot of it.” When Connie rushes to her beloved sister and friend, Estella holds up her hand. “Don’t. It might be catching.” And thus begins Catching Genius, the irresistible story of two sisters whose relationship and lives are irrevocably altered after one is diagnosed as a math genius.

Fast-forward thirty-five years. The sisters, who haven’t spoken for eight years, must meet, as per their mother’s request, to pack up the family’s Gulf Coast home and ready it for sale. Both sisters are reluctant—their lives have taken divergent paths and Connie still harbors resentment over the way Estella and her genius “stole” their father’s attention and affection. Connie’s youthful attempts to regain her father’s attention by playing the violin—which she learned to do with great proficiency but never brilliance—fell short, relegating her to the sidelines throughout her youth.

The two sisters, now pressed into each other’s company, must address the memories and contentious issues that separate them, as well as dealing with new issues springing up. Estella, currently a math tutor, suffers from a mysterious malady. Connie is struggling with her husband’s infidelity and the challenges of raising two boys. Her teenaged son, an increasingly hostile stranger, is failing math, of all subjects. Carson, her youngest, has been listening to the music Connie still plays and performs, absorbing it and creating his own. When Carson’s music teacher raves about the boy’s prodigious talent—both as a clarinetist and a composer—Connie, well aware of the havoc such a diagnosis can wreak on a family, reacts violently, rejecting both teacher and his words.

Kiernan writes about family, forgiveness and the allure of the Gulf Coast with authority and assurance, producing a smoothly plotted story peppered with revelations that lead to a rousing, heartfelt finish. Alternating points of view between the sisters help the reader understanding the key issues of contention and misunderstanding. Connie’s troubled relationship with husband Luke is brilliantly depicted—complex and achingly real. Likewise, Connie’s mother is well portrayed as a firm but loving matriarch who’s lively, outspoken, and reacts to her daughters in a way that is never clichéd or overdone.

Humor punctuates the story nicely, lending levity to tense moments, such as the scene where Connie speaks with a lawyer over the phone regarding her husband. She stands surrounded by the orchids that Luke enjoys presenting to her, always first “running his fingers along the lips, caressing the throat, gazing at me slyly.” Upon hearing the details of his financial irresponsibility, however, Connie tears up the entire orchid collection, in a Hitchcock-esque frenzy, that afterwards leaves her staring at the petaled carnage. “All around me plants lay unrecognizable, a battlefield of awful dismembered limbs. My fury settled into something approaching satisfaction when I realized that at least I no longer saw sex when I looked at the orchids.”Estella’s method of narrating—short musings that are focused, economic, almost geometric in their precision, offers the reader fascinating glimpses into the mind of a gifted mathematician. She experiences and processes life through the filter of her numbers, a trait Kiernan depicts brilliantly.

I walk back down the stairs. Passive-aggressively. Purposely hitting every squeak I know—there are six of them.
Three facts about six:
Six is the first perfect number.
All numbers between twin primes are evenly divisible by six.
Six is the product of the first four nonzero Fibonacci numbers.

I reach the tile, step carefully to the center of each one. Every third one, I skip one to the right—forty-three in all.
Three facts about forty-three:
There are forty-three three-digit emirps.
Forty-three is the smallest prime that is not the sum of two palindromes.
There are forty-three verses in Beowulf.

This kind of writing is what makes Catching Genius rise above the pack in the crowded women’s fiction market. Clearly meticulous research was required, but the novel never suffers from an excess of academic explanation or mathematics jargon. Kiernan’s successful melding of math and lyrical prose lends the novel invisible depths that provide an intellectual as well as emotional charge to the novel.

Kiernan’s description of Connie, as a violin player, offers an equal amount of insider information about playing the violin—the hickey on the neck, the clipped fingernails, the frustrations of tuning a recalcitrant violin and the sacred nature of a good bow and its hair. Scenes between her and the trio members she performs with are true to life. Connie, however, falls short of demonstrating the intensity that turns a violin player into a violinist. And yet this flaw is perfectly in line with the story. Connie admits she isn’t the most dedicated violin player, and is never to be found immersing herself in the hours-long daily task of scales, études and arpeggios that most violinists see as mandatory. She leaves her violin behind in the car (violinists, cover your ears: in Atlanta, in the summer). Playing the violin is a diversion for her, not a calling. Her son Carson, however, it becomes clear, lives to play music, to experiment with music, to find music in everything. He can’t not play music. He is indeed the music prodigy in the family, an irony that affects Connie on many levels.

The story might have profited from a flashback scene that would have “showed not told” Dad’s rejection of Connie in favor of Estella and her gift, but aside from this, it is well-balanced and focused. Chosen as an Ingram Reading Group Selection for February, Catching Genius is a novel that will appeal to music and math enthusiasts, women’s fiction readers, and anyone who wants to escape for a few hours, pull up a beach chair, smell the sea and enjoy a good story.

-Terez Rose’s stories and essays have appeared in Crab Orchard Review, Literary Mama, Espresso Fiction, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel and various anthologies. She has reviewed book for Mid-American Review, Peace Corps Writers, Midwest Book Review and MostlyFiction.com. An adult beginner on the violin, she maintains a violin-related blog at http://www.violinist.com/blog/terez. Visit her at www.terezrose.com.