Canone Inverso

My preference in novels is for books that are realistic and mirror the society in which they take place; I like to enter the universes created by writers, with the single proviso that such places must be believable enough to totally absorb me. So I was surprised by having to give (in all fairness) this novel its five stars despite its violation of my verisimilitude requirements.But in truth, this is not a novel, but a carefully crafted mechanical device composed entirely of words, intricate and at times unfathomably complex, but one that moves and has rhythms, its gears engaged, every "tick" followed by its inevitable "tock;" a machine that works and is probably extremely accurate in what it does, even though, in the end, one is not sure what it is that it does.I appreciated the warnings from other reviewers that the book may need to be read twice before it is fully grasped; a violation of general principles: the writer should have one chance to engage our attention, not two. Yet Canone Inverso was surely better in its re-reading. It is a short book, consumable in one sitting. Its prose is exquisite, its translation so good that one does not notice it, and its effect on the reader's mind is galvanizing. Exotic, intricate, playing with dangerous themes of good and evil, of trust and hatred, of life and death, this confection is not a toy, but a serious intrument of reflection. A joy for seekers of word pleasures.

Paolo Maurensig's second novel, CANONE INVERSO, is told in the form of an oral history of an oral history -- it is a dark story, but a compelling and human one.After purchasing an unusually beautiful antique violin at an auction, the buyer is visited in his hotel room by a mysterious stranger. The man tells him that he was planning to bid on the instrument himself, but was unable to arrive at the auction in time. Noticing a strangeness about the man, along with a seemingly emotional attachment to the instrument, the buyer inquires further, and the man begins to tell the story of the violin -- which involves his retelling of an older story, told to him by the instrument's former owner, sitting at a sidewalk cafe table in Vienna, long ago.The story is an unusual and gripping one -- I found this novel especially hard to set aside, and finished it the day after I started it (I had to force myself to go to bed). The story told by the man in Vienna involves himself and another boy -- both musical prodigies -- who met while attending a prestigious musucal institute in Austria just before the outbreak of World War II. The talent that the two boys shared draws them together into a long and difficult friendship -- and the novel has much to say, cloaked within its gripping story, of the nature of friendship, its blessings as well as its pitfalls.Maurensig's prose is liquid and beautiful, reproducing perfectly the sense of an oral history. As the story unfolds before the reader's eyes -- and into the listener's ears -- aspects of the boys' lives are revealed like new days dawning over time. This is some very effective storytelling. At the heart of their lives is their love of music -- and they each love it in different ways, for different reasons. The conclusion of the story is not altogether unexpected, but neither is it telegraphed in an obvious way -- Maurensig's talents are obvious and formidable, making this book a great joy to experience. I look forward to reading his first novel, THE LUNEBERG VARIATIONS.

In this dazzling tour de force, Maurensig plays a clever intellectual game, setting traps for the reader, his prey. Fiendish in his deceptions, he actively engages our emotions from the outset, evoking curiosity about his mysterious characters and their circumstances, inspiring sympathy for teenage musicians surviving psychological torment in music school, and creating enormous empathy for an orphaned boy, homeless, unloved, and passionate about his music. We feel rather than think, we get caught, and we love it. What makes the book even more remarkable to me is that while the author is playing tricks with the reader's emotions and views of reality, he is also creating a passionate tribute to the power of music and artfully structuring his book in the pattern of a musical canon--a round, in which a "melody" is introduced and then chased indefinitely by its imitation, until, as in this novel, it rises "to its supreme fulfillment in an original burst of mutual genius...and [then begins] its descent, its countdown,...its canone inverso." The symbolic melody of a valuable 16th century Stainer violin sets the voices of the canon's narrative aswirl. The first voice, an unnamed old man, buys the violin at auction. The second voice, a writer and passionate lover of music, comes to his hotel the next day to see, and attempt to buy, the violin from its new owner. He tells the old man the story of Jeno Varga, a Hungarian itinerant musician who once owned the violin and who stupefied a tavern audience, playing rapturously the previous year. "One of music's fighters" whose career had, for some reason, been interrupted, Jeno becomes the third and dominant voice as he tells his story to the writer. Many readers have talked about reading the book a second time to answer questions about Jeno and his life and to understand the ending. While I rarely reread a book, I did with this one, marveling at the author's cleverness, amazed at how clearly the characters and events fall into place and the questions are answered, once one has the benefit of hindsight. Dozens of clues and peculiar statements, which I ignored in the first reading, stand out clearly on the second, especially those pertaining to time. The irony of the title is stunning. Like music, this story improves and begins to reveal itself more completely the second time around. Encore. Mary Whipple

I was just looking through the other reviews, and found the one with all the questions in it by nikita128. Again, don't read this if you don't want the story to be given away...Jeno *did* die in '47; it was Kuno as his alter ego Jeno who was telling the story - remember the reference he makes to "returning where i came from"? It's Kuno who's escaped from the funny farm. This all happens in 1986, when the visitor comes and explains his reasons for wanting to get the violin, saying that this happened to him the previous year - in 1985.I absolutely loved this book, and although i am not a musician, i know a number, and absolutely love how Paolo Maurensig was able to convey the deep emotion and passion that a musician like Jeno puts into their work...

From the start I was captivated by this modern classic. The book started out with questions and concluded with questions. Those who have written reviews who questioned the book's ending do so legitimately, but sometimes a complete ending is not necessary and would ruin the book. Leaving us guessing at certain details in the ending was the authors attempt to touch our souls, and he did so mine. We can all imagine what happened to Sophie's father, he probably died in a war camp, or disappeared to America. We can also determine that Jeno probably died soon after loosing the instrument. I think that one who dislikes the way the author ends this book lacks imagination. The book gives enough answers, but we should also analyze it ourselves. This book kept me guessing through most of it. I could not possibly set it down because of my desire to know what was going to happen. The author did wander in the middle, but the end made up for it. A tragic and surprising end should give every creative reader a thrill! It touches the soul, a must read!