Since Stradivarius and Guarneri died in the early 18th Century, the world has been frustrated: "I wish Strad had left us a little book or something." He didn't, and John Marchese (whose avocation is jazz trumpet), does what dozens have done before him: try to find the secret. He describes with amusement some quack violin builders' (luthiers) claims to have learned the mystery of Strad, or to have uncovered a long buried notebook. But no such thing exists, and no one knows why, not too long after the instrument was invented, three or four craftsman in Cremona, Italy in the late 17th-early 18th Century produced the best violins (cellos too) ever made.
Of course, violin making didn't end in 1750. But this book isn't just about research and the obligatory trip to the Po Valley. Rather, the author follows the making of a modern violin based on older models for Gene Drucker, a member of the (former) Emerson Quartet. This is a new approach, and Brooklyn's Sam Zygmuntowicz is the top of that trade.
It's an interesting gambit, but ultimately unsuccessful. Readers will learn more about string instrument construction. Yet, for one thing, Sam and others admit most of a luthier's work is ordinary carpentry: "All we really do is make boxes. The thing is, they're magical boxes." And that's the second problem: sound isn't just indescribable, it's personal.
The finest Strads and Guarneis are worth up to about $5 million. Sam charges under $100,000 for an instrument that attempts to combine the best features of those 250 year-old boxes. And modern violins aren't so prone to abrupt changes in tone corresponding to heat and humidity--picture, for example, successive concerts in Helsinki and Houston. Tremendous advantages, in theory.
The other three members of the Emerson Quartet like Sam's creations better than their prior instrument (though none previously were playing a Strad). They also liked the new one created for Drucker. No professional musician could tell the difference between Drucker's Strad and his new instrument in concert or recording--Drucker used both when the Quartet overdubbed itself to record Mendelssohn's Octet.
But what matters is what a violinist "hears beneath his ear." Sound is so personal that the writing is incidental to the idiosyncratic decisions of the player. There's a little, but not much, of a book in that.