A deeply moving new novel about life and art from one of America’s greatest writers.
Livia Cable has made her peace with her marriage and modest livelihood in the farm country where she grew up, until a shocking phone call from an old lover shakes her to the core. Decades earlier, this man knew her as Livia Bohusz, a music conservatory student estranged from her home and family, uncertain of anything except her passion for music and promise as an extraordinary pianist. His request, now, to see her again stirs up ghosts she’s kept at bay for a lifetime.
Shifting between past and present, Livia’s decision to meet or reject the reunion means confronting step by step, in memories framed as musical dances, the traumas of childhood loss, abandonment, self-immolating passion, and perilous attachment to a man who broke her belief in love and ruptured the course of her life.
With razor-sharp acuity and deep affection, Pulitzer Prize winner Barbara Kingsolver’s unforgettable new novel reflects on class barriers, the risks of ambition, and the timeless love affair between life and art.
Barbara Ellen Kingsolver is a Pulitzer Prize-winning American novelist, essayist, and poet. Her widely known works include The Poisonwood Bible, the tale of a missionary family in the Congo, and Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, a nonfiction account of her family's attempts to eat locally. In 2023, she was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction for the novel Demon Copperhead. Her work often focuses on topics such as social justice, biodiversity, and the interaction between humans and their communities and environments. Kingsolver has received numerous awards, including the Dayton Literary Peace Prize's Richard C. Holbrooke Distinguished Achievement Award 2011 and the National Humanities Medal. After winning for The Lacuna in 2010 and Demon Copperhead in 2023, Kingsolver became the first author to win the Women's Prize for Fiction twice. Since 1993, each one of her book titles have been on the New York Times Best Seller list. Kingsolver was raised in rural Kentucky, lived briefly in the Congo in her early childhood, and she currently lives in Appalachia. Kingsolver earned degrees in biology, ecology, and evolutionary biology at DePauw University and the University of Arizona, and worked as a freelance writer before she began writing novels. In 2000, the politically progressive Kingsolver established the Bellwether Prize to support "literature of social change".
Enduring a traumatic, abusive childhood and a horrible loss, Livia Bohusz has nothing but her dreams, her musical talent and her motivation left as she leaves home and becomes estranged to her family to follow those dreams . During the course of her studies she falls in love with someone who is more dedicated to a cause than to her and endures even more devastating losses that change the course of her life once again.
In this first person, introspective and alternating narrative we see Livia in those early days and decades later as Livia Chase now settled in her life having to face the revelations of family secrets and the decision about whether to reconnect with her past .
Chapters titles are named after classical music compositions or dances , or terms - none of which I was familiar with. I assumed they had meaning in the context of the chapters. That didn’t keep me from being moved by the story reflecting resilience in the face of heartache, self recognition and the knowledge that “salvation comes in its own ways”. A beautiful rendering of how a broken creative spirit rises to the call of what home and family and love really mean. This is my tenth novel by Kingsolver and she never disappoints .
I received a copy of this book from Harper Collins through Edelweiss .
I haven’t read a single page yet, but here’s what I do know: Barbara Kingsolver is about to hit us with heartbreak, class commentary, music metaphors, and at least one character who makes you question all your life choices.
If Demon Copperhead taught me anything, it’s that Kingsolver can make you laugh, gasp, and marvel at the sheer precision of her storytelling. Partita promises all that, but with pianos, ghosts from the past, and a protagonist juggling love, ambition, and long-buried secrets.
I’m here for it. I will be fully invested in Livia Cable’s choices, cheer for her triumphs, and probably celebrate every exquisitely framed sentence.
A new novel by Barbara Kingsolver is always an event, and one that includes music, the Appalachians, and trauma is something not to be missed. Partita tells the story of Livia Bohusz, a phenomenally gifted pianist who is growing up in a small Eastern Tennessee town where she does not have a piano or supportive parents. Her brother and father understand somewhat but her mother is dead set against music, college or anything that might make Livia too "stuck up" to marry a local boy. But she does go to college at Indiana University's College of Music where her talent flourishes and she is able to begin exploring a new world. She falls madly in love with a non-musician, and tragedy strikes not once, but twice. What will her life be like now?
Kingsolver writes gorgeously about music through the eyes of someone who understands it in a way most of us never could. She gets the judging/embracing culture of small town Southern life. But Partita includes aspects that I felt dragged down Demon Copperhead, that one-thing-after-the- other plotting that made me mutter, "really? What next?" I could not latch onto Livia's love for Sigurd, the didactic labor organizer who is just too much. Once Sigurd's out of the picture the novel takes flight with Kingsolver's wonderful sense of place, character, and heart. Partita comes to a satisfying, if somewhat sentimental, end, that I really loved.
There are lots of triggers in this novel, but it wouldn't be Barbara Kingsolver if there weren't. Thanks to Edelweiss + for a digital review copy of this novel> Here is my honest review.
Livia is a farm girl with exceptional talent who gets a university music scholarship. While at school, she meets a seemingly irresistible man and that is when her run of bad luck starts. She is injured, almost dies, and can no longer play the piano well. She goes home to Tennessee to a dying father, a cruel mother, and the memory of her beloved older brother. There are numerous musical references in the novel, including insight into the title: “A partita will never be all happy rondos, or all andantes in a minor key. You’ll usually have a prelude, a thrilling allemande, maybe a slow sexy sarabande—the contrast is the point. The parts are all different, and the artist’s work is to make them all add up to a something that feels whole.” Although her life has taken an unexpected course, she realizes that “surviving in broken parts is not such a bad thing.” Thanks to Edelweiss and the publisher for the opportunity to review this advance copy.