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5) strictly prohibited is the use of instruments alien to the German spirit (so-called cow-bells, flexatone, brushes, etc.) as well as all mutes which turn the noble sound of wind and brass instruments into a Jewish-Freemasonic yowl.This arresting introduction is followed by two novellas, "Emöke" and "The Bass Saxophone," about the possibilities for art and individualism under totalitarian rule. The former is a love story of sorts. Set at a rural resort in Communist Czechoslovakia, it recounts a cynical young man's attempted holiday seduction of a Hungarian beauty, a woman who has renounced any hope of sexual love in favour of a mishmash of Theosophic spirituality. "The Bass Saxophone" also takes place in a small Czech community, but one under German occupation, shortly after the battle of Stalingrad. It is the story of a young saxophonist who, through his fascination with an almost-mythical instrument, is coaxed into playing for the enemy.
All of the characters in The Bass Saxophone have been maimed--physically, culturally, emotionally, or spiritually--by their existence under totalitarianism. The realism of the stories often seems more like surrealism, and Skvorecky's language often segues into flights of lyricism, paralleling the music that animates the book. Skvorecky's best writing is to be found in his longer novels, but The Bass Saxophone is an ideal introduction for readers who want to become familiar with his work before taking on The Engineer of Human Souls or Dvorak in Love. --Jack Illingworth
214 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1967




It took me a couple months after returning to New York to get to the title story of the book, but when I did I finished it in a single day (to a soundtrack of Anthony Braxton, John Butcher and Urs Leimgruber). This is a fantastic piece of writing! It too is a Nazi-occupation tale, but Skvorecky writes wonderfully about sentimental music and poorly played music, about idolizing instruments and interpersonal anxieties. The slightly hallucinatory story works like a prolonged saxophone solo: Sometimes you have to trust the artist and ride his wave, knowing it'll come around again
"To me literature is forever blowing a horn, singing about youth when youth is irretrievably gone, singing about your homeland when in the schizophrenia of the times you find yourself in a land that lies over the ocean, a land -- no matter how hospitable or friendly -- where your heart is not, because you landed on these shortes too late." (p. 29)
"He disgusted me, for all the hygiene of his clean underwear, because the grime of his soul couldn't be aired out of his jockey shorts, his trousers or his shirt; he wasn't even human, just living breathing filth, an egotist, a lecher, an idiot, an enemy." (p. 83)