No doubt you recall that wildly popular novel titled The Book Thief. If so, then I’m sure you remember its narrator – ‘Death’. Well, I have not forgotten that book, or the fact that I was deeply in the minority with my aversion to ‘Death’ as narrator. It forced me to rate what I considered a decent book only 3 stars, going against a very strong tide of respected reader friends.
"I am Music. And I am here for the soul of Frankie Presto. Not all of it. Just the rather large part he took from me when he came into this world. However well used, I am a loan, not a possession. You give me back upon departure."
“Oh no!” These were my first words when I flipped to the second page of The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto. Please, not another unconventional narrator! Okay, well, I was willing to try to ignore this and get on with what I hoped would be a great story. I absolutely adore music anyway, so it shouldn’t really be a problem for me. Plus, it is historical fiction, and I love a well-written, well-researched HF novel.
The story begins at Frankie Presto’s funeral – we learn this on page one, so I’m not giving anything startling away here. The mystery lies not in the fact that we are at a funeral, but at the journey one takes to this point. And that is primarily what this book is about. Aside from a funeral, it essentially begins at the birth of Frankie during the Spanish Civil War of the 1930s. I loved this piece of the story the most. The turmoil of the times and the people that were a part of Frankie’s early life grabbed me immediately. A young boy is born with the gift of music, and how that gift is developed left a huge impression on me. Frankie is a guitar player, and we learn how he comes to own a special guitar with some very magical strings. The timeline jumps around quite a bit, with the reader following Frankie across the Atlantic to the United States, and then later across the Pacific to New Zealand. We go back and forth in time throughout the book. I don’t mind this technique in theory. In practice, it was slightly jolting due to the frequency. Furthermore, there are little interludes where the reader is introduced to some very big names in the music industry – Tony Bennett, Roger McGuinn, Darlene Love, Wynton Marsalis, Elvis Presley, Burt Bacharach, and Paul Stanley, to name a few. I admit, despite my love for music, I’m not a huge pop culture kind of gal. Some of the names dropped were lost on me. Others may feel differently and find much pleasure in hearing each of these musicians chat for a few minutes about how they knew Frankie Presto personally.
For centuries, musicians have sought to find me at the end of a needle or the bottom of a drink. It is an illusion. And it often ends badly."
As much as ‘Music’ as narrator grated on my nerves, I did come to truly enjoy watching Frankie Presto grow. Sadly, as we sometimes see in those who rise to the heights of fame, Frankie was not immune to the vices that so often ruin a truly talented individual. Drugs and alcohol and the ghosts of Frankie’s past plague him throughout the novel. It’s quite sad really, but an all-too-true occurrence in one so gifted. I rooted for the guy and hoped he could conquer his demons and live a truly happy life.
So, by the time I reached the finish line, I still could not buy into ‘Music’ as narrator. Perhaps I’m just not imaginative enough, but I like a traditional narrator I guess. Not to mention, here I was once again struggling with a whiff of magical realism. This is another case where I could have done without that element in this particular book. The real ‘stars’ of the novel for me were Frankie and the historical aspects. If you don’t mind unusual, omniscient narrators, if you enjoy pop culture, and if magical realism always works for you no matter what, then this book will probably be just the thing for you. For me, there were some very memorable portions and I always wanted to keep going because I did love Frankie. The element of mystery throughout compelled me to turn page after page. Therefore, I consider this book to be good, but not one that blew me away.
"It is not in the bones. Nor in the lips or the lungs or even in the hands. I am Music. And Music is in the connection of human souls, speaking a language that needs no words."