Music & Silence

This was my favorite read of 2001. I hadn't ever read a book by Rose Tremain and merely picked it up because I was on my way to Copenhagen from London on a business trip. I became so involved with each of the characters that I made a special trip to the palace where the fictional story took place, bought postcards of the people on whom the fiction was I presume loosely based, and remembered parts of the book as I passed through the rooms. I also went up the round tower thinking all the time of the storyline in which this tower took part. What I think is so amazing though about this book is not just the historical details but the sexy sense of humor throughout, the understanding of music and the meaning of music in people's lives, and the author's wicked depiction of the king's wife. I really couldn't put it down, longed to get back to it when I did, and mourned the end of the story. I tried to get by book group to read it. It is definitely a book group read. So many characters to discuss; so much history; and so much interesting sexuality! The whole thing was just delicious reading!

Rose Tremain's gorgeous novel, Music and Silence, is the best book I have read in several years and one of my alltime favorites, by far.The book's central character is Peter Claire, an English lutenist, who, in 1629, arrives at the palace of King Christian IV of Denmark to join the royal orchestra. Things are not quite what Peter expected, however, and he is more than surprised when he learns the king requires his orchestra to perform in a freezing cellar, among a group of squawking hens, while the orchestra's exquisite music floats up to the Vinterstue via a series of trapdoors and pipes.Although Peter Claire is the central figure in this novel, there are many others whose stories are no less important. One of these stories belongs to Kirsten Munk, wife of Christian IV and the "almost Queen" of Denmark. Kirsten despises music and chooses to spend her time either dreaming of the Swedish Count Otto or frolicking with him, whichever the case may be.Kirsten's favorite lady-in-waiting, Emilia Tilsen, also plays a very important role in this magical book, for Emilia Tilsen and Peter Claire fall in love at first sight on the grounds of Rosenborg, the palace that Christian built for his unfaithful wife. But will Peter's and Emilia's love be allowed to blossom or will it wither on the vine? When the adulterous Kirsten is banished from court, she takes Emilia with her, thus jeopardizing the young girl's future happiness with the English lute player.Music and Silence is also the story of the beautiful Irish countess, Francesca O'Fingal, a Bologna-born Italian beauty whose husband, Johnny, is the subject of a metaphorical subplot. We learn his story from Francesca via her notebook, aptly named, "La Dolorossa." And, if this isn't magic enough, Francesca and Johnny both have a connection to Peter Claire.And then there is Marcus Tilsen, Emilia's five year old brother, a fey imp of a child whose thoughts are "plucked from the air" and who seems to possess magical powers, powers that will one day be needed to save the life of Peter Claire.If these fascinating characters are not enough to keep any reader thoroughly engrossed, we also learn the story of Emilia's father, Johann and his second wife, Magdelena, a bewitching woman who has learned to use her wiles well, but never wisely. Another wonderful character is Christian's mother, the miserly Queen Sofie, a woman whose antics lend much comedic lightness to this gorgeous tale.Tremain is a master storyteller and a master at characterization. We really come to know each character through the author's skillful first-person narration. While each one occupies a special place in our thoughts, it is Peter Claire who stands at the center, the connecting point from which all the other stories radiate.While some of these characters are more good than bad, and others more bad than good, none are without both virtues and vices, something that only endears them to us. The Dowager Queen Sofie may be a miser, but she

I would never read a novel in "historical romance" genre, which is what I assumed _Music and Silence_ was when I first saw it in paperback while living in the UK last summer. One day I commented to a friend (an Oxford postgraduate student in early modern British and European history) that I hadn't read a good historical novel in a while. As a student of early modern English history, I have often been disappointed in an author's research concerning and story development within such a rich and vibrant context. My friend recommended _Music and Silence_ as an antidote to my ennui. I bought the book the next day and didn't want to put it down for the following four. I would have read it faster but I didn't want the book to end!Having bought it in Britain, I read a different edition from that which most Americans will see; for that I make no apologies. I must say that "The best thing from Denmark since 'Hamlet'" was NOT emblazoned on my copy and I don't see the wisdom behind that marketing tactic. The image--a portrait of King Christian right-side-up and, below it, an upside-down portrait of the Queen--is not only visually appealing, but its significance deepens as the story unfolds. Why the American edition has a different cover mystifies me. Anyway, since it's been a while since I read the book and I (in a moment of silliness) lent my copy to someone who never returned it, I can't comment in great detail on the strengths and weaknesses of the book (others before me have provided many helpful remarks to that end). To speak of impressions rather than observations for a moment: in response to negative comments about the book's "believability," I would point out that appreciating historical fiction demands that one suspend disbelief in the way one might if seeing a play. Can one "believe" an actor is dying of hypothermia if the room is a comfortable 70 F? Only if one enters into the world the actor creates is such "belief" possible. The point of fiction, as I have understood it, is not to create "believable" characters so much as to show, in narrative, universal aspects of human experience, even in particular or outlandish situations. Books that could just as easily be features on the five o'clock news do not entertain, inspire, or endure. _Music and Silence_, however, does the first two with ease; may it also accomplish the third.

Big and bawdy, hilarious and dark, grotesque and graceful, this winner of Britain's Whitbread Award explores complex themes of love, beauty, power and ego, betrayal, politics, ambition and selfishness.With the intricate structure of a masterful musical piece (like the beautiful air that tragically obsesses one of the minor characters), the story is set in vivid 17th century Denmark and centers around Peter Claire, English lutenist. Arriving in Copenhagen in 1629 to join the Royal Orchestra of King Christian IV, Claire is aghast to discover he will be playing in a cold, dank wine cellar, open to the elements so the wine may breathe. The orchestra's miserable confinement serves the king's ego and ideas of beauty. Through an ingenious system of pipes, the music rises upward without distortion so the disembodied sound appears ghostly or heaven-sent. For Christian, enjoyment without human distraction; for his guests an impressive marvel.Point and counterpoint, other voices rise as Tremain shifts the narrative among characters. Lusty, beautiful, adulterous young Kirsten, the King's consort who will never be queen, trapped by Christian's love for her, determines to drive him to indifference. Her favorite handmaid, Emilia, thrust from her family by her father's lust for his new wife, awakens to Peter's true love. The King, sunk in fear and melancholy over a fortuneteller's prophecy and the collapse of his once lofty ambitions, ruminates over his passion for perfection and the betrayal of his childhood friend.Captivated by Peter's angelic beauty, Christian fastens on the lutenist. Likewise captivated by Emilia's melancholy innocence, Kirsten will not be separated from Emilia. Both use their minions without regard for their own wishes.Peter plays for Christian for the first time: "When the song is over he glances at the King, but the King doesn't move. His wide hands clutch the arms of the chair. From the left side of his dark head falls a long, thin plait of hair, fastened with a pearl. 'In Springtime,' Christian says suddenly, 'Copenhagen used to smell of lilacs and of linden. I do not know where this heavenly scent has gone.' "And in the next moment we meet his Kirsten: "Well, for my thirtieth birthday I have been given a new Looking-glass which I thought I would adore. I thought I would dote upon this new Glass of mine. But there is an error in it, an undoubted fault in its silvering, so that the wicked object makes me look fat. I have sent for a hammer."Lesser characters pursue their own driving concerns. The Queen mother guards her treasure from her son's grasping needs. A widowed Irish countess pines after Peter and contrives to follow him to Denmark. Peter's family tries to entice him home. Kirsten's mother hatches plots, which will not advance her daughter. Emilia's stepmother's appetites consume her stepsons. A poor town, buoyed by the King's mining plans, suffers, quite literally, from their collapse.As the

This is my first exposure to the writing of Rose Tremain. I cannot put this book down...it is with me constantly. I wish I could simply stop my life for a full day, to journey back to 17th century Denmark, instead of snatching moments of it here and there.Her characters are so vivid, and so delightfully crafted! I don't feel like an outside observer, but I feel part of the story itself. And every so often Ms. Tremain turns a phrase that I must stop and relish, read and reread, only to go back to it later on to enjoy it yet again. Marvelous writing. I can hardly wait to explore her other titles.