The wit, erudition, and sparkling dialogue we've come to admire in Barbara Trapido’s earlier work, Brother of the More Famous Jack, are immediately evident in The Travelling Hornplayer. From the first chapters, Trapido once again delights us through her deft prose and intricate characterisation. Her three main narrators: Ellen, Jonathan, and Stella - each take a turn steering the narrative, revealing their quirks, strengths, and vulnerabilities in turn.
We are swept through their university years with vivid, sensory detail. Jonathan’s razor-sharp humour is a constant pleasure, while Ellen’s recollections of her sister Lydia are deeply moving. Stella, meanwhile, draws us into her emotional world with a complexity that is both compelling and - at times, confounding.
Yet, for all the book's stylistic richness, I found myself ultimately unsatisfied with how its narrative threads come together. Ellen’s and Jonathan’s arcs feel satisfying and complete. Stella’s, however, remains puzzlingly unresolved. By the end, I was left with a sense of confusion and frustration. Her character - so rich in potential - is at times frustratingly opaque, even contradictory.
Why would someone raised in such a deeply loving environment be so taken in by the feckless Izzy? Can a five-month relationship with such a boy truly leave her emotionally adrift for the remainder of the novel? Why does she remain blind to the genuine care offered by Pen? She displays immediate tenderness toward the young and playful Agatha, yet seems oddly cold and distant with her own daughter.
Despite her evident resilience - having weathered a difficult childhood and the challenges of figures like Sheila, Dragon Lady, and Grania — Stella appears overwhelmed by her father’s and boyfriend’s betrayal, trapped in a cycle of victimhood that doesn’t quite ring true. Her mother, in particular, has offered her unwavering love, yet Stella remains stuck in what Trapido calls “some curious neverland of commitment and denial.” Why would contacting her family “end the illusion”? As the novel accelerates toward its close, I found myself struggling to understand her. Why, in the end, does someone so clearly gifted - even brilliant - fail to fully grasp or grow from the emotional lessons before her?
The Travelling Hornplayer is undoubtedly rich in style and infused with Trapido’s signature charm. Yet despite its many strengths, it left me wanting more - especially from one of its most fascinating, yet frustrating, characters.