David Herter

At the end of 2008 I read the first novella in Herter's trilogy, On the Overgrown Path which was a wonderful dark fantasy and mystery featuring the Czech composer Janacek.

This second book begins in the early 1920s with the arrival of Dr. Brod and Franz Kafka at Janacek home. There Kafka is introduced and he produces a mysteries "stave flower" - a folded parchment with many points covered in what seems to be tiny musical notations. Kafka tells him that it fell from the sky and hit him in the show more chest. With it came an ominous vision of the future, he claimed.

Now forward ahead to 1930. Composer Pavel Haas, a former student of Janacek is working with Karel and Josef Capek on a revival of their play, [R.U.R] or Rossum's Universal Robots. After an evening of camaraderie with the Capeks at a local restaurant, Pavel is on his way home when what looks like a paper star flower floats down from the sky and hits him in the chest. He pockets it. Later the next day, when during the play rehearsal he unfolds it, the theater goes dark. . . .

What begins now is a gripping fantastical tale that I would prefer not to spoil for you. Herter is actually quite a fine writer (one of the better ones in the field of genre literature, imo). He has created a sense of place and character and atmosphere rich with period details, musical details, historical details. You are there in the theater with Haas, the Capeks, the other costumed actors. You are there when the lights go out, and you are there for what comes after...

Both books are very well done and I'm really looking forward to the third! show less

A novella that feels very much like a fairy tale for grown-ups. An elderly Czech composer (clearly based on Leoš Janáček if you know even a little about his life and work) is left behind in a small nameless village somewhere in Czechoslovakia when his train is delayed by an avalanche on the tracks. He indulges his habit of recording sounds he hears in musical notation in a small notebook, and becomes obsessed with a particular song sung out of sight by a woman's voice "a vivid show more contralto...weaving a tune, a melismatic melody of leaps and turns." It is his distraction in attempting to locate this woman that causes him to miss the departure of his train. He is put up in large empty house---almost a Castle---where he is cared for by the housekeeper and her husband. He makes forays into the nearby Woods searching for that tune, which proves very elusive. Soon he begins to feel that Something does not wish him to capture these essential sounds, and yet he cannot give up the quest. There is an atmosphere to this compelling story that is reminiscent of Tolkien. A brilliant evocation of Eastern Europe between the wars, when Magic both dark and bright seemed to infuse the very trees and snowflakes, and mysterious forces were abroad in the land. show less

Russell Kent, composer, is trying to deal with the loss of his wife while also trying to write an opera adaptation of 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. (And that is an opera I would dearly love to see.) As part of his ongoing recovery from grief, he decides to visit the small coastal town, Evening, where his wife died a year ago, and continue writing his opera there.

The town of Evening is a character all on its own. Set on the wintery coastline of Oregon, it survives through its cheese factory show more and tourism, and is peopled by some of the most dull, cheese obsessed, small minded small town people it has ever been the misfortune of Kent to meet. Luckily, there are some diamonds amongst the dullards; in particular his landlady Megan Sumner, and Bernard Dreerson, owner of the local bookshop, The Warp and Weft. These diamonds seem to be waging a war of some sorts with the town dullards, but it does take a while for the undercurrents to become clear, and they definitely weren't at all what I was expecting.

Herter has written a fascinating story, peopled with highly believable characters, and has made music come alive in words. A book where the unexpected occurs, and where cheese and music are both strong motifs. And it's not many books you can say that about. show less

Rating: 3.5* of five

The Book Description: En route from Bratislava to Prague in the deceptive spring of the 1920s, Leos Janáček, famed opera composer, ethnographer, and amateur psychologist, is stranded in an obscure and enigmatic mountain village, lured from his train by a song of blood. Here, Janáček must become a detective far from home. Attempting to solve a bizarre murder in which he himself is suspect — and whose perpetrator might be a wild animal, a jealous lover, or Nature show more unhinged — he brings to bear his singular skills of observation and poetic insight, and most importantly, his belief in the truthfulness of the "little melodies" heard in everyday life: the cry of a bird, the plash of snow from the eaves, the horrendous lie voiced with a smile. What he uncovers is a many-stranded aria of ravenous Nature and mischievous Time, threatening to consume his world.

My Review: What a beautiful little package this book is! I love the Millais cover image, Ophelia, and particularly like the way it resonates with the dark, supernatural story Herter is telling here.

This little beauty was very pleasant to read. It's a supernatural fantasy set in 1923 Czechoslovakia, featuring the composer Janacek as its main character. The evocative language, and the use of Janacek's known habit of recording every sound in musical notation wherever he was, were very nice features of the book. The dialogue was, in a word, wooden; some of it was intentional, and I could completely see that the author was attempting a 19th-century cadence with sterling success; but then, but then, but then...almost every time Janacek speaks, the statement is an exclamation! As thought this 70-year-old man of a certain dignified station in life was a Valley Girl! That made the unnaturalness I felt was a hallmark of Janacek's dailogue all the more evident!

The supernatural-death-dealer elements were fine, and well-handled; the story path of the isolated village with dark secrets and darker customs is well-worn, but nonetheless enjoyable to tread; yet the whole, which I began wit every expectation of adoring, ended up in the "glad I read it, but won't re-read" category. I would cheerfully recommend the book to anyone who likes dark fantasy tales, and would equally recommend it to anyone interested in moody, atmospheric fiction. Just don't pin your socks to your pants, they are in no danger of getting blown off by On the Overgrown Path. show less