"...I've decided that we all crave a sense of dignity in our lives, but most of us find it an elusive goal." This is one of Reinhart Sundheimer's reflections on life and on himself. The Soloist is an endearing story that tells the tale of a man who hit his prime as a child. A musical prodigy, Reinhart was a world-class cellist from a young age. He was nurtured and encouraged (albeit a bit harshly when it came to his mother) -- and, sadly, isolated. He was kept away from age-mates so that he could cultivate his talents, and adults had no interest in socializing with him on his level. He faced incredible pressure in the form of promises that all his hard work would only make him better and more desirable and the center of friendships and admiration as an adult. To his utter dismay, the intense pressure only served to stifle him and render him unable not only to form friendships but even to play the cello publicly. Reinhart's loneliness is both reduced and intensified the summer he is summoned to jury duty and simultaneously is hired to teach a young prodigy. Salzman tells a beautiful story that easily warms the reader's heart toward Reinhart. The storyline follows Reinhart as he teaches his young student, reflects on the murder trial for which he is serving on the jury, and as he forms a tentative friendship with one of the members of the jury. Following Reinhart through these separate but interwoven plot lines lends a degree of depth to the story that leaves the reader feeling satisfied.The Soloist would have been worthy of five stars in this reviewer's opinion but for one glaring problem. Salzman doesn't appear to have thoroughly researched the issues of the defendant on trial. The man has made an insanity plea. Salzman establishes that he is without a doubt schizophrenic. The question at hand for the jury to decide is not whether the defendant is schizophrenic but whether he can be deemed criminally insane. This could have made for an interesting story; however, it seems as though Salzman is entirely unaware of what Schizophrenia actually is. The defendant's behavior is described, experts testify that he has schizophrenia, but, unfortunately, very little of what is portrayed actually relates to schizophrenia.The portrayal of schizophrenia is indeed poorly done. However, Reinhart is a well-developed character, and Salzman tells the majority of the story in such a way that the reader is likely to be charmed. Reinhart Sundheimer is easy to like, and Salzman tells his story in a satisfying manner.
A very disappointing effort from Salzman. The plot is enticing: Reinhardt, a child prodigy cellist, loses his gift and spends years trying to get it back so he can live the life of a concert musician. After a decade of futile practice, he is asked to tutor another child prodigy; sullen, withdrawn nine-year old wunderkind Kyung-Hee. And if Salzman had just stayed with that, I think he would have written a fine book. There is the possibility of youth vs. age, the teacher craving the talent the student possesses, the cultural conflict of east vs. west (Reinhardt was born in New York, traveled Europe as a child and lives in Los Angeles while Kyung-Hee is from a traditional Korean family). Additionally, there is the opportunity to write about classical music and how elusively beautiful it is. That's what I was expecting. Instead, in addition to working with Kyung-Hee, Salzman has Reinhardt serving on a jury in a murder trial; a Zen student has killed his master. Salzman memorably wrote about the Far East in "Iron and Silk" and honestly, I thought perhaps Reinhardt would be exposed to Zen wisdom during the trial which in turn could help him become a better teacher or resolve the endless search for his talent. But no, Salzman has him serving on this particular trial because... he's serving on a trial. While serving on the jury, the virgin Reinhardt develops a serious crush on a married fellow juror and like the trial itself, the reader is left wanting for why this particular plot point is meaningful. There are also several flashbacks to Reinhardt's childhood which, unfortunately, have the same effect. All of this makes for a very frustrating read, not because the book is difficult to follow but because the book does not inspire. Much of this has to do with Salzman's choice to write the book in the first person voice of Reinhardt. The choice works in the opening pages when Reinhardt details his early fame and sudden loss of his gift but the remaining pages are a chore because Reinhardt is not an easy character for the reader to attach or, frankly, to even like. At least for this reader, there is no satisfying resolution to any of the plot-lines. I had a lot of fun reading "The Laughing Sutra" and I'm looking forward to reading "Iron and Silk." I'm sorry to say that this is a book I wish I never opened.
What do You think about The Soloist (1995)?
I pretty much love everything Salzman has written. Here is why. He uses words well - his prose is clear and strong - and he has a self-deprecating sense of humor and considerable tenderness, particularly toward children and animals. This book wasn't quite as strong as his nonfiction, but I still really enjoyed both reading and rereading it.It tells three intersecting stories. The first is the life of the title character, a cellist and former child prodigy. The second is his experience as a juror in the trial of a zen disciple who has killed his master. The third is his attempt to teach and guide a young Korean-American boy who is beginning the cello. I liked the third story best - I fell in love with the awkward little boy - but all three strands of story reflect on and illuminate each other.Now, I've read reviews from cellists who insist Salzman doesn't understand music and doesn't write about it well. Others might criticize the book because Renne, the narrator, is ridiculously self-absorbed. But that's the point! I don't think you are necessarily supposed to like the narrator. I do think it's possible to empathize with him and applaud his growth as a human being. As to the musical critics - I don't know. I'm just an amateur myself, but, to me, the teaching scenes rang true - especially the one where little Kyung-hee excitedly compares various styles of classical music to architecture. The narrator manages to convey both joy in music and his own deep appreciation for the little boy's genius, as well as the dignity and generosity of the fine old man who taught him when he was the boy genius.So, yes, I liked this book. It won't be to everyone's taste, but anyone who has enjoyed any of Salzman's other books should definitely give it a try.
—Mary
Mark Salzman is excellent on many levels. This book is excellent on many levels. I'm so glad that I'm back reading the author of Iron and Silk. Here's what Mary wrote: "I pretty much love everything Salzman has written. Here is why. He uses words well - his prose is clear and strong - and he has a self-deprecating sense of humor and considerable tenderness, particularly toward children and animals. This book wasn't quite as strong as his nonfiction, but I still really enjoyed both reading and rereading it."
—Ellen
This novels interweaves the story of a troubled musician and a dramatic murder trial where he serves as a juror. It is a very readable story that alternates nicely between the two plots. The author plays the cello and that undoubtedly helped inform the plot line about the child prodigy and his difficulties in adulthood. The author clearly knows a lot about the cello and classical music. Unfortunately, he does not know as much about law. I found some of the courtroom scenes to be, well, off-pitch. The trial itself seemed like a made-for-TV event, and the jury deliberations were even more hackneyed. There was a golden opportunity to develop the characters, but instead we get a clumsy and unsatisfying adaptation of Twelve Angry Men. The ending tries too hard to put a neat ribbon on the protagonist's turmoil. While I generally enjoyed reading this novel, I would not recommend to anyone other than someone looking for a novel that develops the issues involved with musical prodigies.
—Ross
