The Music Room

A quiet and elegiac remembrance of a childhood home shared with an older brother,, Rrichard, suffering from epilepsy. The narrator’s parents inform visitors to their castle home that there are no ghosts and yet the spectre of Richard’s illness pervades like a poltergeist or a beloved phantom. Of the three streams—Richard, a history of epilepsy, a deep love of a childhood home—it is the latter that comes through the strongest. It is more a series of moments in time than a narrative arc: there are no giant reveals or climaxes; it is a spare and tender “life as we knew it” short book.

Some books require a second reading, this book was more along the lines of a second thinking. I didn’t feel the need to reread the book after show more being a bit underwhelmed by it at first, but afterwards the sketches of childhood and the appreciation of a family who embraced a ‘meet the person where they are that day’ approach did stay with me. It is a lovely testament to the presence of absence. show less

This book is written in such a gentle manner that although it is one of loss it is also filled with tender humour. Reading it made me laugh and cry and so eloquent is Fienne’s writing that I felt as though I was sitting with him as he related his family’s tale. The tenderness and loving memories that fill this novel make for a powerful read. I could vividly picture the young lad as he wandered their castle and tried understand his older brother’s behaviour. Through it all the love of the whole family and the respect they had for each other just shines through. This is a testament to the power of love and is a beautiful memorial to Fienne’s late brother.

Having read The Music Room, I realise that I have a lot in common with William Fiennes - we were both blessed with older brothers suffering the consequences of brain damage. Our younger lives were dominated by the trauma that living with a sibling plagued by severe epileptic fits brings, not to mention the episodes of erratic and frequently aggressive behaviour. Sadly, we both came to mourn the loss of that precious person in our lives. That is were the similarity ends, for William Fiennes spent his childhood living at the family castle, its grassy acres and moat his playground, my early days were spent in much humbler circumstances.

However, of course, the greatest contrast between us is that he writes about this part of his childhood show more with an eloquence that few could manage. The whole book exudes humour and warmth and the love for his family is palpable. I particularly enjoyed the portraits Fiennes pens of his parents - his father sat at the card table collecting entrance fees on days that the castle was open to the public; his mother applying WD40 to suits of armour to keep the hinges working and guiding groups of Groined Passage.

A wonderful book, a story beautifully told and one I shall return to again and again. show less

Fiennes' memoir lets us know that no family has to be problem-free to live in the "regular" world. It might not be the best of all possible worlds, but if you learn how to function with the difficulties, to live in an adjusted household with the difficulties of disabilities and the added daily life function, there is always a glimmer of hope, and love.

The memoirist deftly places commentary on the history of psychosurgery and other corporeal treatments in with beautiful (some rather brutal, but still beautifully done) portraits of home. Fieness plays these early moments against Richard's turbulent but fulfilling life at home and his sometimes-good behavior at group. It is my feeling that Fiennes never does mention modern medical show more treatments or not even medicine in passing not because of omission but because he hides behind outdated treatments. Of course his who family shuns major medical care, but, with several chapters of disasters, he at least should tell why his family chose the therapy that it did.

No quiet home in the suburbs for this family, of course: they live in a castle. Rather than hiding their son away, he is, so to speak, the king of the hill. He goes out with them, he is a public figure, and he is not saint. Fiennes always stops just short of letting him be canonized: Richard was human, he says, but he was distinguished enough to be remembered for the individual--always, we are reminded, he is an individual--but there is plenty in this book for the reader to walk away with something. show less

I have read The Music Room after a visit to Broughton Castle. During our visit we were guided by the brother of the writer, Martin Fiennes, who recommended The Music Room. It contains some beautiful descriptions of the (unnamed) castle, but it also describes the life of the elder brother Richard Fiennes, who suffered from epilepsy, and died of it in 2001.

The Music Room by William Fiennes is a small book that is not small at all. Quite extraordinary and heartwrenching it tells the story of a young man growing up in an environment of privilege, tempered and made human by his brother's severe epilepsy. At the same time it explores the biology behind the disease. Truly fascinating and beautifully written.

I found this a very interesting book. It is a very heartfelt family memoir and easily explains the difficulties that can arise in coping with someone with severe epilepsy within the family. In addition I found the historical information about epilepsy and the various treatment conditions that have been attempted quite informative and I think this would be very educational, in particular, to those with no real knowledge of the condition. In addition, as someone with epilepsy myself, I did find the book emotional in parts.