The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt by Patricia MacLachlan

It is simply understood that Patricia MacLachlan is a brilliant writer. Able to convey so much in so few words, MacLachlan’s spare prose almost reads like poetry. Sarah Plain and Tall is no less than an American treasure for sure, as are her other well-known titles. But it is The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt, a book you almost never hear about, that is my favorite of hers. When I read it for the first time in my twenties, I felt that Patricia MacLachlan wrote this book for me.

Minna Pratt is an eleven-year-old cellist (“She has never thought of herself as a ‘cellist’; until this moment she has only played the cello”) who plays with a youth string quartet at the conservatory. I saw so much of myself in Minna: quiet, thoughtful, wishing. Not like most of today’s protagonists of primary-grade literature who more ‘spunky’ than unsure (Junie B Jones and the like).

The other aspect of Minna that drew me to her was her relationship with her music. There is nothing in Minna’s life that cannot be related in some way to the music they are making at the conservatory.

“There are times, more often lately, that Minna feels she knows Mozart better than she knows herself. Mozart is everywhere, like the wind. She catches on of his phrases in her teacher’s voice, in the rhythms of the jump rope rhymes when the neighborhood children play. One morning, early, the garbage men outside bang their way into the Hunt Quartet, causing Minna to sit straight up in bed, wide awake.”

One of the things Minna yearns for is to be able to play with vibrato, something her friend and violist Lucas already can do. As any musician knows, vibrato is a skill that is acquired through practice and perseverance. To Minna, however, it represents a longing and a sign of something bigger—something that she herself does not yet understand, but what we readers recognize as growing up. I don’t know why this struck such a chord with me, but I can remember a time when I had no vibrato. There truly does seem to be something so childlike and innocent about that time. I feel as if having the vibrato really was a step toward adulthood. What MacLachlan uses as the metaphor for coming of age seems so poignantly true to me.

The house is still when Minna wakes in the night. But it is not dark. Moonlight streams in the window. It falls across her bed and onto the rug, and touches the mirror on the wall. For a while Minna watches it. Then, suddenly, she leans over the edge of the bed to touch her cello, lying by her bed like a sleep-over guest. She plucks a string. Slowly she sits up, sliding out from under the covers. She picks up her cello and bow and pulls a wooden chair over into her closet. She adjusts her end pin and tightens her bow. She pulls the light cord so that the light goes on above her. She begins to play, very softly at first, then a bit louder. Minna smiles at the new rich sound. She turns to watch her hand, vibrating on the strings. Finally, after a while, she stops, sitting silently in the lighted closet. She reaches up and turns off the light. She lays the cello by the bed again, the bow across it and slips back under the covers. For a moment she doesn’t move. She lies there staring at the moonlight. She looks at the clock on her night table. Twelve thirty. She hesitates, then picks up the phone and dials.

On the first ring a hone is lifted.

“Congratulations,” says Lucas.

The Facts and Fictions of Minna Pratt by Patricia MacLachlan

tags: children's books book reviews coming of age Mozart string quartet cello Patricia MacLachlan