The Soloist by Mark Salzman

I
I used to drive a gorgeous, spunky little burgundy Miata (the car salesman called the color ‘merlot’) that I adored. In 1998 The car was still fairly new to me and I was eager to show it off, so when I was asked if I wanted to drive the Grand Marshal vehicle in the Mountain View Chinese New Year Parade, I jumped at the chance. The Grand Marshal that year was Jessica Yu, the filmmaker who had won the academy award for best documentary the previous year. She was from neighboring Palo Alto, so everyone welcomed this local success story.

On the day of the parade, Jessica sat on the shelf behind the seats and waved as I drove as slowly as I could at the tail of the parade. It was just the two of us in the car, and when we waited or were stopped, we chatted a bit. I remember her being vivacious and friendly, and I felt that familiar pang of being in a completely different social stratum from someone you might have otherwise had a connection with. It was the knowledge that I would never meet her again, but would continue to hear about her work and remember this moment, while she would probably never think of me again.

II
But this story is not about Jessica Yu. It is about one of my favorite books, The Soloist by Mark Salzman. I found this book in the Mountain View Public Library, and most likely checked it out because it was so obviously a book about music. It turned out, however, to be one of the most moving and thought-provoking novels I have ever read. I bought a copy soon after I returned the first one to the library.

The Soloist is about a cellist, Renne Sundheimer, who has lost the musical spark that had once made him known as a teen prodigy, hailed by some as having the potential to become the greatest cellist who ever lived. He finds himself making a modest living by teaching cello, but his mind is preoccupied with finding that spark within himself again.

Renne’s life changes dramatically when he accepts, against his better judgment, a nine-year-old boy as a student, and then gets chosen to sit on the jury of a murder trial involving the death of a Buddhist monk. These two events are the catalysts of Renne’s journey to turn outward from his own suffering, in order to find the man, and the musician, within.

III
A few years later, I read Mark Salzman's Lying Awake. While I did not much care for the book, I was floored by last sentence of the author biography on the jacket flap:

“He lives in Los Angeles with his wife, filmmaker Jessica Yu.”

IV
There was a buzz in the air on the exhibit floor of the 2002 California Library Association Conference. The keynote speaker, Mark Salzman, had just finished his speech and was on his way down to sign books. I was caught unprepared for this, and had to buy another copy of The Soloist before I got in line for the autographing. All around me, librarians were exclaiming about what an amazing speaker Mark Salzman was. I overheard one woman behind me say dreamily, “He might be the best speaker I have ever heard. He was just so moving and so funny, I had tears in my eyes the entire time. Even while I was laughing.” She paused, then added, “and he’s so handsome too.” I mentally slapped myself for missing his speech.

When it was my turn, I took up more than my share of time and told Mark Salzman the story of the Chinese New Year Parade and his wife from all those years ago. We had a good laugh, and for once I felt like I had something interesting to say to an author. I also felt, once again, that same missed connection that I had felt with Jessica Yu.

This is what he wrote in my copy of The Soloist:

To Renee
A.K.A. The Driver—
With very best wishes and thanks for returning my wife in one piece—
Cheers—
Mark Salzman

The Soloist by Mark Salzman

tags: books about music book reviews cellist Jessica Yu Mark Salzman