Book Review: The Violin Conspiracy
The Violin Conspiracy by Brendan Slocumb (Anchor, 2022).
Brendan Slocumb’s debut novel, The Violin Conspiracy, intrigued me from the moment I first heard of it, and yet it was hard for me to convince myself to read it. It’s the story of a promising Black violinist whose priceless violin is stolen, and for me, as for many other amateur musicians and music lovers, the idea of losing a beloved instrument is horrifying. Just the thought of someone making off with my piano gives me the shakes. (Thank heaven pianos are notoriously difficult to steal.)
Still, the story sounded so interesting that I made myself pick it up. And I’m glad I did. Slocumb’s young hero, Rayquan “Ray” McMillian, is well worth getting acquainted with, and his journey through the cutthroat world of classical music is never less than enthralling.
Ray’s gift for music shows itself at an early age, but he gets little support either at school, where he plays a rented violin in the school orchestra, or at home, where his mother wants him to graduate early and go to work at Popeye’s. Ray grabs lifelines wherever he can find them—from Dr. Janice Stevens, a university professor who’s in his corner from the first time she hears him play; and from his grandmother, who sees in Ray the talent she once saw in her own grandfather.
Grandma Nora gives Ray her grandfather’s decrepit old violin, originally given to “PopPop” by the slaveowner who freed him after the Civil War. But the slaveowner was an immigrant from Italy who apparently had connections in the musical world, and it turns out that the old violin passed down to Ray is a Stradivarius worth around $10 million. Suddenly, everyone who used to dismiss Ray’s career is keenly interested in it. While the Stradivarius, and his ability to make it sing, begin to open up new doors for Ray, they also bring new demands from his money-hungry family, not to mention new claims from the slaveowners’ descendants.
And then, on the brink of the most important competition of his life, the violin vanishes.
Ray navigates all these competing pressures with grit, grace, and humor, but it’s painful to witness what he endures. The racial slurs from high school classmates are just the beginning. Working twice as hard as everyone else, as his grandmother taught him, and blessed with an incredible talent, he still has to put up with whispers of “token” and “PR stunt” from fellow musicians. And more than once, ugly bias-related incidents cause him to miss or nearly miss performances. (The author, a Black musician himself, drew many of Ray’s experiences from his own life.)
By the time the Marks family are actually trying to argue that Ray’s violin is theirs because their ancestor once owned his ancestor, the reader is, sadly, not feeling surprised by much anymore. But Ray’s love of music and his deep sense of calling shine through all of it, guiding him on his increasingly difficult path. Even as he deals with the devastating loss of the Stradivarius and fights to get it back, he manages, with encouragement from those close to him, to keep on with preparations for the world’s most prestigious musical competition. (Myself, I would have been curled up under the bed and sucking my thumb at this point.)
Brendan Slocumb demonstrates a true flair for storytelling, creating compelling characters and genuine suspense. My only major quibble is with his handling of timelines—I don’t mind too much that he tells the bulk of his story in flashback, but I do mind that, at a pivotal moment, he jumps even further back, leaving me so frustrated that I shamelessly paged ahead to get a little resolution. Of course, Slocumb isn’t alone in this practice. Jumping around in time has become very trendy among novelists—so trendy that I’ve started to long for a story that starts at the beginning and simply goes straight to the end.
But with the loss of the Stradivarius hanging over everything, Slocumb deftly maintains the tension all the way through, leading both Ray and the reader to a place that is satisfying, sad, and sweet all at the same time. I can’t say I’m eager to read another saga of a stolen instrument anytime soon, but I’m not sorry I read this one. October is supposed to be the time for scary stories, after all.
(Cover image copyright Anchor)
Book Links:
The Violin Conspiracy on Amazon
The Violin Conspiracy on Bookshop
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