Review: Virtuosity by Jessica Martinez

I saw Virtuosity a few months ago and instantly knew I had to get my hands on it. I'm a sucker for books about music or dance, especially those written by musicians themselves and this fits the bill perfectly. Jessica Martinez has been both a violin teacher and a symphony violinist, not to mention she's now the author of this amazing YA novel. Not sure which is the biggest achievement there really...

Now is not the time for Carmen to fall in love. And Jeremy is hands-down the wrong guy for her to fall for. He is infuriating, arrogant and the only person who can stand in the way of Carmen getting the one thing she wants most: to win the prestigious Guarneri competition. Carmen's whole life is violin, and until she met Jeremy, her whole focus was winning. But what if Jeremy isn't just hot ...what if Jeremy is better than her?

I really really liked Virtuosity. At times I've wanted desperately to be a classical pianist, dancer and opera singer (my chosen drearily academic career path will probably tell you just how creative I am) so books like these give me the next best thing - the experience. Carmen's shoes aren't a bad pair to fill either - I actually really liked her, and I'm terrible for irrationally loathing protagonists. She's not snobby about her talents, but she's not irretrievably naive about the world either. Maybe a little, but it's only to be expected from her sheltered world and it's actually a little endearing.

It's a much, much deeper book than you'd imagine. Carmen struggles not only with the looming competition and her pushy mother, but also the light of first love and an overwhelming dependence on anxiety medication. I think it's the latter that really pushed Virtuosity into 'awesome' territory for me. Whilst not suffering from physical addiction, Carmen has been gradually led to believe that she cannot perform without Inderal. She's ashamed of her secret weakness and yearns to let it go, but her mother and teacher refuse to even condone the idea. It wasn't really a necessary sub-plot and I wouldn't even have thought of including it - but it makes me wonder exactly what the author witnessed during her violining days! All in all, there's a lot of sub-plot shaped balls for Jessica Martinez to keep in the air... but she manages, and does so with style.

It's even written wonderfully - not a hint of the clunkiness that often pervades hastily dashed off YA novels. It's here that the author's musical experience really comes to light - Carmen and her mother are intimately familiar with symphonies, arias and musical technique but their knowledge is slotted into the text so subtly it never feels like somebody has just opened a music textbook and is just showing off what she knows.

Furthermore, Carmen's emotions are shown to us completely. Elation, doubt, confusion, suspicion... we're not just told that Carmen is feeling them, we're shown through her actions and her words. We're even inside her head as she tries to puzzle out the actions of others - Jeremy and her mother for example. It's a remarkable feat of prose. 

The final fifth or so introduces a twist that I can't quite decide if I liked or not. The notes in my Filofax were scribbled as I read, so it kind of goes 'Annoying subplot. Actually, it's okay. Argh, no it's not. Oh well, I'm used to it now...' and so on. Looking back on it a week later, I can now accept that it worked. I've talked before about having different reactions to a book right after you've finished and a week later, and this is one of those instances. I did love the entire thing and even that little niggle has ironed itself out in my mind. There was a decision Carmen made that wasn't very believable and that still bugs me (and it's not as obvious as you'd think, so I'm not being spoilery) but I can cope.

Obviously, I loved Virtuosity. Almost every single little thing about it. Not only can I not wait for Jessica Martinez' new book, but I'll be purchasing a paper copy of this one just as soon as I can. It's a wonderful, wonderful YA novel about music, romance and career pressure and I can't recommend it highly enough.

Visit Jessica Martinez' super pretty website here, or find her on Twitter.

Review: The Auschwitz Violin by Maria Angels Anglada

I desperately wanted to read The Auschwitz Violin as soon as I saw the review posted by the Lit Addicted Brit. Months later I convinced my doting Father to buy me a copy on Christmas Eve, the annual day of buying-Hanna-whatever-she-wants-for-no-reason. It reminded me a little of The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas before I'd even opened it - it's of a similar size and obviously there's a similar topic. Truth be told though, The Auschwitz Violin can more than stand on its own feet and I'd be hard pressed to say which I enjoyed more.

In the winter of 1991, at a concert in Krakow, an older woman with a marvellously pitched violin meets a fellow musician who is instantly captivated by her instrument. When he asks her how she obtained it, she reveals the remarkable story behind its origin. . . .

Daniel is a talented luthier, but he is also an inmate at Auschwitz Concentration Camp in Poland. He has kept his true occupation a secret in order to avoid the gas showers, but when he offers to repair a broken instrument belonging to the Commander, he makes a mistake that may cost him his life.

Somehow, hearing the story of one individual can be more traumatising than being told the statistics of the estimated 1.1 million people that were slaughtered at the Auschwitz camps. I can't take credit for that particular revelation - go thank The Lit Addicted Brit for the insight. When I read that review though, something just kind of clicked inside my head - it's true. We've all heard the horrifying figures from our history lessons and TV documentaries, but we don't really feel it until we're told the story of one particular inmate, even if it is fictional. That's why books like these are so important - they might not be 100% completely accurate, but they get the true feeling across more than any Wikipedia page ever could.

I liked Daniel but I couldn't help but feel I should have connected to him more. Perhaps that's more to do with the short length of the novel than any fault of the writing, but even so. That said, I respected him and his love for violins is palpable. It's clear a lot of work has gone into researching craftmanship - each stroke of sandpaper and tightening of string is meticulously detailed, and it's easy to get as drawn into to its creation as Daniel does.

He's close to giving up hope and sometimes feels like the violin is the only reason he hasn't given in to despair. I have an Irrational Hatred (so frequent it needs to be capitalised) for whiny characters even if they have every right in the world to complain. However, even despite my usual dislike, Daniel never bothered me. Not once. If that's not a glowing recommendation, I don't know what is. It's just a very subtle book, I think. It doesn't need to bludgeon you with the desperation because you can feel it slowly seep in around the edges and that's much, much more effective. 

The only thing that didn't seem to make much sense were Daniel's feelings towards the violin. I understand that its creation was possibly the only thing keeping him alive at that time, and yet I didn't really believe that he would love it so much. Surely after going through such a horrendous ordeal, he'd never want to see the damn thing again, much less ensure that his family keep hold of it after he's gone. Not a huge point, don't get me wrong, but I didn't think it was explained very well.

Interspersed between chapters are genuine documents from the time when Auschwitz was functioning. These detail punishments meted out to the inmates along with their living conditions and experiments performed. There's just a few scattered in and amongst - not enough to overwhelm the story, but enough to cement your impression of its horrors  and remind you that the story may be fictional, but the camp was not. 

I enjoyed The Auschwitz Violin. It's strange though - having finished it, I put it on the shelf and wandered off to do something else without feeling particularly moved or pensive. It does keep coming back to me though, and it's nearly a week since I finished it. Parts of it will pop up in my head for no apparent reason and I can't help but feel they'll be haunting me for a while to come.
 

Review: Moon Over Soho by Ben Aaronovitch

So this is my first entry for the What's in a Name? challenge hosted by Beth Fish Reads. This is for the second category which is something you'd see in the sky and it's also the sequel to Rivers of London. That review was a difficult one to write and this one is too - so hey, if you've any sympathy with the blood-from-a-stone type of trauma I'm going through here, run over and check out my new feature, Books My Boyfriend and I Have Argued About.

Summary: The song. That’s what London constable and sorcerer’s apprentice Peter Grant first notices when he examines the corpse of Cyrus Wilkins, part-time jazz drummer and full-time accountant, who dropped dead of a heart attack while playing a gig at Soho’s 606 Club. The notes of the old jazz standard are rising from the body—a sure sign that something about the man’s death was not at all natural but instead supernatural.

Body and soul—they’re also what Peter will risk as he investigates a pattern of similar deaths in and around Soho. With the help of his superior officer, Detective Chief Inspector Thomas Nightingale, the last registered wizard in England, and the assistance of beautiful jazz aficionado Simone Fitzwilliam, Peter will uncover a deadly magical menace—one that leads right to his own doorstep.

I actually liked this one more than Rivers of London. I felt that it just made that little bit more sense somehow. The plot line  is just as refreshingly different though - there's no way you can get around Ben Aaronovitch's unique creativity. Here, Peter gets a whiff of jazz music-flavoured magic when he examines a fresh corpse and eventually comes to the realisation that something or someone is causing the death of jazz musicians from London. Like the puppetry in the first book, it's something I've never seen even a passing resemblance to before.

My major problem with the first book was the lack of understandability, if that's even a word. It just didn't seem to flow properly. I know I wasn't the only one who had to keep checking back just to see what on earth was going on. Moon Over Soho has much improved on that - it's much easier to follow what's going on. However, it still has the tendency to make my eyes absent-mindedly follow the lines of text while I'm actually thinking about breakfast cereal, or something similar. It's only when I pause that I realise I haven't taken anything in. It's not that it's boring; far from it, it just doesn't seem to grab my attention somehow.

For me, the thing that sets these books apart from the other urban fantasy books is the police-work. For once, the magician hero is working for the Police, not despite them. The author has obviously very carefully included all the detail he could about the inner-workings of the London policing system, because it's fascinating and doesn't disrupt the plot at all.

I liked how the events at the end of Rivers of London continued on into Moon Over Soho - what happened to Lesley, I mean. I was a little afraid it would be glossed over, but obviously Mr. Aaronovitch is cleverer than that. It deals with it perfectly - it's raw and emotional, but it's infrequently mentioned enough to not take over the entire book. Hey, I like continuity, okay?

Emotion-wise, I wanted to give Peter Grant a good slap. There are two women he's supposed to have feelings for, and apparently cares for them both. But not in an oh-aren't-I-a-cad-hoho way and not with any feelings of guilt... he honestly just seems to somehow forget. It's like the other one doesn't exist at a particular time and it's actually very, very irritating. There's no confusion and the story follows Peter and still doesn't even mention it. Gnargh. It bothered me in the first book (different women) but I didn't mention it in my review in case I was being over-picky.

I know I've done that thing again where it seems like I didn't like a book from the way I'm talking about it. I actually did, it's just that are a lot of faults and I found it hard to pick it up again once I'd put it down. Despite that though, the thing that I hated the most about Rivers of London has been fixed and so I liked this one a whole lot more.

Visit Ben Aaronovitch's website here, or read my review of the first book in the series, Rivers of London.

Review: The Mozart Conspiracy by Scott Mariani OR 'The Masons Did It!'

So hey, who wants to hear how well I'm doing in the TBR Challenge? You do? Well that's just awesome. Funnily enough, I'm doing awesome too! In fact, The Mozart Conspiracy is my fifth fourth (alright, so maybe not quite as awesome as I'd thought...) book this year that was on my TBR pile before 2012 and that's nearly half. Go me and my overuse of italics!

Former SAS operative Ben Hope is running for his life. Enlisted by the beautiful Leigh Llewellyn - world famous opera star and Ben's first love - to investigate her brother's mysterious death, Ben finds himself caught up in a centuries-old puzzle. The official line states that Oliver died whilst investigating Mozart's death, but the facts don't add up. Oliver's research reveals that Mozart, a notable freemason, may have been killed by a shadowy and powerful splinter group of the cult. The only clues lie in an ancient letter, believed to have been written by Mozart himself. When Leigh and Ben receive video evidence of a ritual sacrifice being performed by hooded men, they realise that the sect is still in existence today and will stop at nothing to remain a secret. From the dreaming spires of Oxford to Venice's labyrinthine canals, the majestic architecture of Vienna and Slovenia's snowy mountains, Ben and Leigh must forget the past and race across Europe to uncover the truth behind THE MOZART CONSPIRACY! 

These books are a guilty of pleasure of mine. I'm never sure exactly what type of genre they are, but you know what I mean - action/thriller books with an intelligent, conspiracy-type base. Like The Da Vinci Code or The Medusa Amulet. There's usually either a good-looking scholar or an ex-military man who searches for some long-lost artefact, but oh no - there's a team of similarly ex-military backgrounded people who are also searching for the artefact, only they're baddies so they have bigger guns. Oh, and the Freemasons are usually running about somewhere too.

I don't know why I'm making fun of them really. I own so many I could put Waterstones to shame. It's just that they're generally pretty awful. But you know, so awful they're actually kind of... well, good. And you don't need to concentrate to read the, so they're the ultimate comfort book.

I really liked the central premise - you don't see a lot of books about conspiracies regarding famous historical composers. It's usually biblical artefacts or art history related. Apparently there's genuinely been a lot of conspiracy over the death of Mozart. Theoretically he died of rheumatic fever, but similar symptoms are produced when the victim ingests a certain type of poison, so it's possible (if unlikely, in my opinion) that he didn't die from natural causes after all. Mozart himself declared he had been poisoned but was ignored at the time, and ever since.

To be honest though, I'm getting a bit bored of all the Freemason plots. Just once I'd like to read one of these without a Mason lurking mysteriously behind every corner. I understand the attraction, I suppose - a secretive, mystical archaic cult with many prominent members and I know that Mozart was genuinely a part of the group. The plot would have worked just as well, if not better, without their inclusion - the explanatory notes at the back say that the real conspiracy theory (if there is such a thing) goes that he was poisoned by Salieri, a rival composer. Why wouldn't that have worked as a plot device? You know how on every single mystery/crime programme, some hilarious person watching it with you will pipe up with 'The Butler did it!?' Well it's getting to the point where whenever I pick up one of these books, I want to shout out immediately that 'The Masons did it!'

But hey, that's all par for the course. I don't mean to judge a book on the genre it's affiliated with. The Mozart Conspiracy takes a bit of getting into, but it has a fast-paced plot and reasonably developed characters, if a little generic. It does have a few twists that make it stand out from the usual and the romantic sub-plot is actually fairly subtle.

I liked Leigh Llewellyn. She stood out as a well-rounded and interesting character. She's an opera singer with a musically trained background, and so can actually contribute to the investigations. She's not a pushover but not unnecessarily stubborn either. One of the better female book leads, I'd say.

However. However, however, however. The ending is appalling. Like, really I'm-making-a-point-of-it bad. I read it and just kind of blinked in confused astonishment. It seems incredibly pointless, unless it was about a point that Mr. Mariani just couldn't be bothered to carry through to the next book, in which case - why add it the first place? I know that seems unnecessarily cryptic, but you'll understand what I mean if you've read the book. It's terrible, honestly.

Last thing - have you ever read one of those books that seems to be overly brutal for no reason than to shock? I know a lot of people said that about The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, but The Mozart Conspiracy is just as guilty. There's one particular scene that's so horrific I had to dare myself to go back and make sure I'd actually read the damn thing right. It's just... uhhh. I don't mind a little brutality every now and again, but I do like it to fit in with the book and not just shoved in for the sake of it.

So there are parts that set The Mozart Conspiracy apart - the interesting plot, the believable characters and relationship, the fast-paced action... But then there are a few horribly clichéd parts that let the side down. The Mason culpability for example, or the pointless ending. It's worth a read, but I'd say it's more of a library thing.