Pieces: A Life in Eight Movements and a Prelude

by John von Daler

Written like a suite in eight movements, Pieces is a novel about music, with leitmotifs, repetitions, counterpoint, harmony and disharmony. The story begins in Oklahoma with a five-year-old violin prodigy who has perfect pitch and a remarkable teacher named Tosca. The following movements, or chapters, capture the protagonist's teen years in Connecticut, student years at Princeton, jazz concerts in New York, and then the big jump to Europe.

An enchanting work that carries one along in a flow and movement very much like a symphony.

Genres: Fiction, Music

282 pages, Paperback

First published January 5, 2014

About the author

I was born in Oklahoma where I played my violin and learned to value a summer evening, a bicycle to ride on, a quiet street and a freshly mowed lawn.
My teenage years I played the violin and the piano in Connecticut in the woods dark with hidden symbols, while New York lurked in the shadows.
My college years in Princeton, gothic and green, were as quiet as an unexpressed thought. Playing nothing, I just read and learned.
I spent the rest of this much of my life in Denmark, playing and teaching, composing and writing, learning mildness, the love of sea water and how to sleep under the midnight sun.

Reviews

[Byron Edgington · Rating 5 out of 5]

Here we have a fictional bildungsroman crafted in a kind of symphonic fashion—with accompaniment. The narrator schleps his violin through life, moves from one gig to another, accompanied by ‘Olding,’ the musician’s inner conductor. As Von Daler says, “If this book were music, it would be eight movements and a prelude.” He also indicates that this is fiction, but I might suggest it’s closer to ‘Faction,’ as it clearly reflects the narrator’s peripatetic life in music, and the characters he meets along the way.
Through a gift of ‘Perfect Pitch,’ our young violinist begins to make a name for himself. Starting at the beginning, tuning to the first chair’s ‘A,’ as every symphony does, on the downstroke the author positions us on a porch in Copenhagen looking through a fence ‘of parallel pine stems,’ a wonderful metaphor, the vision of a violinist staring through strings. Remember that image.
In ‘Counterpoint,’ the narrator and his mother eat dinner, in ‘a kind of silence that really is a conversation.’ Referring to the blank spot on our retinas, he goes on to say that with our need to fill in, we ‘become co-authors of what we see.’ To this reviewer at least, this is the theme of the book. An appreciative audience listens not so much for perfect notes, but for the music between them, the life we live in order to appreciate those notes.
‘Was she to be seduced, or baby sat?’ Thus we encounter a Dal Segno, when the narrator gropes toward first love and sex, knowing that his ‘Lucy’ is likely not ‘the one’ since she’s described all in white, and the intimate encounter hits one discordant note after another. But then there’s Heddy. The narrator engages her with his other string instrument, a tennis racket. On the court, the two share a pas de deux that the author compares to dance. And of course for dance we need music, which comes here not from a violin, but from the movement of the two players, once again, music between the notes.
In ‘Transposing,’ we meet characters who show us the commercial music world. Also, we meet Mastodon, the future father-in-law, whose priorities are quite simple. “You can make love with my daughter,” he says. “But don’t you dare f**k up my cheese.”
Perpetuum Mobile finds the musician/narrator encountering the dying Lens, and also trapped in his career, in perpetual motion. Perhaps the summation of this piece is one sentence. Lens speaking, hand on light chain: “What a pleasure to turn you off.” Here again, the music between the notes is sweet; perhaps even more so for those commanded to produce those notes for the rest of us. No matter how pleasurable a career or ability, ‘No rep and no da capo’ leads to a grinding, monotonous life.
Intonation brings us a storyteller, another kind of prelude, and another kind of music, the tales we decide to share, or not. “It’s just a story. Let it lie.” In this chapter, however, we do see a reference to the aging narrator as Olding is grown up.
Ad Libitum: At the liberty of the conductor, who is free to take the music where he or she decides. Also, we read a delightful encounter with a meek, attentive ‘god’ who actually listens. ‘God’ even shares a desire all humans have, it seems, a Dorian Gray-ish wish to age backwards. “Don’t we all,” God says.
Tacet gives us a rest, as we learn of the narrator’s (the author’s?) family history, from the early twentieth-century and even before. Truly music between the notes, here, as General Daler plays his piece, and the author listens along with us.
Beautifully written, and rich with musical references—even the Beatles are mentioned—this book is a tour de force of life with a violin in ones hands, staring through the strings. It seems that the family history section might have played better as a first movement, but that might have upset the tempo as too predictable. Von Daler the writer uses his own ad libitum here, and it’s just as well. Pieces is damn near perfect pitch, I’d say. Maybe the best book of its sort I’ve listened to for a while.
Byron Edgington, author of The Sky Behind Me: A Memoir of Flying & Life

[David Pockell · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was tired of reading my usual array of mysteries and suspense thrillers, so I began to reread great writers that I had once enjoyed, including Philip Roth, whose books I have read when each came out. Then I heard that von Daler, a student of Roth, had written "Peaces."

The book was so enjoyable that I read it in just a few days. It is not really evocative of Roth but rather brings a whole new voice to the reader. The language is beautiful and the images skillfully drawn (or should I say "played?"). It has everything from biography to music to fantasy and is fun to boot.

Since reading "Pieces" I have been buying it for good friends and recommending it to everyone.

[Hal · Rating 4 out of 5]

A good read. Excellent writing. Strong well-developed characters. An unusual way to construct a story line, but it works.

[Li Or · Rating 3 out of 5]

The book is an autobiography of the author. His life story is separated into chapters, each representing a different piece of his life (hence the title): a piece of childhood, a piece of the teen years, a piece of his life as a college man, and so on. A literary collage of life. The stories are not connected, so upon finishing a chapter from his teenage years we could start the next chapter to discover he's now engaged to be married, but the whole meeting and wooing period was omitted (which some may say could be the most interesting part...). At times it felt like there was no strong conclusion or specific point to some of the stories being shared other than just being an impressionistic, artisticly written snapshot in time.

I am a bit conflicted about how I feel about this book. On the one hand it's absolutely beautifully written. It took the author 10 years to write and I can understand why, seeing that practically every sentence is filled with original metaphors and similes to the degree that it's almost 274 pages of poetry; a masterpiece of literature. On the other hand, sometimes when taken on tangent after tangent of different beautiful metaphors, I found myself forgetting where we were in the underlying story. And the disconnected chapters provided a further opportunity to feel a little lost; starting in a new point in time without having context. Much like reading poetry, if you're not well-practised or naturally inclined towards easily understanding such writing, it takes a lot of concentration, patience, and a certain amount of prerequisite knowledge to get the references that allude to musicians, artists, literature, dance and more. I sometimes felt like explanatory footnotes would have been helpful. If you're like me and fall into the unforunate category of being poetically-challenged, you may find this book to be a bit of a struggle to follow and read all the way to the end; feeling frustrated that you just aren't getting it.

All in all, it's certainly a work of art, though I suspect only certain intellectually astute people will be able to appreciate and see all the beauty it has to offer.

[Renee · Rating 4 out of 5]

Not the usual memoir

It is about music and musicians but written in a different way. It is allegorical and fantastical. I really enjoyed it but some people might not, especially if not inclined musically or literally

[Linda · Rating 3 out of 5]

I received the book for free through Goodreads First Reads

I could practically hear the orchestral movements as I read along, reminiscent of the first time I saw The Paper Chase. The book took several different turns, the early years was like reading Bill Bryson with symphonies. A middle part which was by far my least favourite, involving an acrimonious bond between Kurt and Ivan, however this unpleasantness was redeemed by a genteel ending which brought it all to a soft close. I'd said early on it reminded me of my own years as a violinist in the schools-wide orchestra; it was nice to have those pretty great memories re-awakened.....

[Arlene · Rating 1 out of 5]

didn't finish :(

[John Hausrath · Rating 3 out of 5]

An interesting book. I enjoyed reading this book but found it a bit confusing sometimes. It seemed to jump from place and time without proper connections inbetween. It was still a good read.

[Gill · Rating 3 out of 5]

I read more than half of this. I quite liked it. I especially liked the first section, where there was so much about music. I'd have liked it to carry on more in this vein.

[Joe Boudreault]

Here is a slightly unusual book. Is it a biography or a fiction novel? Is it contemporary or classic? Does it have a general message or a singular story? In fact, it seems to be all of those. The author, John Von Daler is a musician, and it shows. This is a portrait of life as seen through music.

I am not a musician and not enough of a music lover to truly appreciate his visions. I feel inadequate to say something here. But I do appreciate great language and expression. Von Daler doesn't disappoint, as he gives us the story of growing up in the world of classical music and the effects that such training have on personal thought and behavior and values. Once you have dedicated yourself to the strict regimens of playing violin or piano, you cannot but be a different person than if you had dedicated yourself, say, to farming or fishing. All are noble, and all create a peculiar spirit for life, I suppose.

The author has transferred the beauty of musical expression into linguistic expression throughout this very readable book. He was/is captivated by his music. The effect of dedication renders a change in you, he tells us. It is like “tomatoes ripened in the sun. Deep red wine. Seductive food. Heavenly music. Toscana. Cathedrals and towers and villas.” We know these are the things that get mixed into the performer's life and the lives of its listeners. The things of enjoyed culture. It culminates, Von Daler tells us, in “breathtaking art, meaning art that eliminates the need to breathe.”

We are taken to various places at different times, as if living within the movements of a symphony in it's structure of sonatas (introduction to life), adagios (the slow movement of learning), sherzos (humor of youth, perhaps) and rondos (the fast approach of old age). Life, like musical compositions, have purpose and design, it seems. Talented musicians tell us about our lives through their instruments, but their talent is often muted in modesty. “Genuine greatness is just as unrecognized to the great,” says the author. I have often wondered about that. Genius does not see its own genius, it just is, yet we are recipients of that gift.

If you find that great music moves you, then Von Daler's “honeyed voice”, as he puts it here, will “usher visitors down strange and beautiful poetic paths as the music spun out in unforeseeable garlands of sound.” That is this book's great appeal.