“Whenever I had a spare moment I'd stand in front of the piano, heave open its mighty lid and peer inside. Eighty-eight keys, each with one to three strings attached. The steel strings were taut, and I felt a jolt of excitement each time I contemplated the line of hammers, ranged across the action like an exquisite row of magnolia buds, just waiting to be used. The forest, with everything in perfect balance, was utterly beautiful.”
The Forest of Wool and Steel is an award-winning novel by Japanese author, Natsu Miyashita. Tomura is seventeen when, almost by accident, he hears the old piano in his school's gym being tuned by Mr Soichiro Itadori of the Eto Music Shop. Whatever Mr Itadori is doing, Tomura sees, hears, smells, feels the forest. “He gently presses down on the key and the scent of warm earth and whispering leaves rises up in my mind, drifting from beneath the open lid of the piano.”
Not only is he fascinated and deeply moved by the process, but it immediately becomes his vocation. It makes no difference that his family don't really understand: Tomura goes to the school Mr Itadori recommends, where he works hard to gain the knowledge and skill a tuner will need but, of course, that's just the beginning.
This earnest young man, solemn and respectful, is grateful to be taken on as a junior tuner at the Eto, and his reverence for the instruments on which he works and his respect for the tuners from whom he learns is apparent. After he has tuned all the pianos in the Eto (multiple times, on his own initiative), he is permitted to accompany Mr Yanagi to client homes and watches spellbound as he efficiently tunes the instrument to the client’s satisfaction (and more).
Tomura wonders if he will ever gain Mr Yanagi’s standard (let alone Mr Itadori’s: “…Mt Itadori’s tuning was to be revered. Truly, his gift was to arrange the soundscape of a piano so that its music would shine light into the shadows, revealing even those things that would rather remain out of sight.”) Tomura knew “I wasn’t ready yet, but I looked forward to the day I could help at these places where children would be encountering a piano in the music room or gym for the first time.”
About the tuning philosophy of the other master tuner, Tomura is conflicted. Mr Akino maintains that there’s no need to tune to a standard higher than the client’s ability dictates: “A person who usually rides a 50cc motorbike won't be able to manage a Harley.” But he finds that, ultimately, there is something to be learned from this master, despite his spiky attitude, too.
He messes up several times and strives to become a good tuner, but it’s such an incredibly nuanced and intuitive craft, he wonders if he will get there. Mr Itadori gives Tomura a tuning philosophy to which he can aspire. Eventually he faces the challenge of tuning for the pianist he most admires, for an audience he truly respects.
Miyashita gives the reader some exquisite descriptive prose (in fact, it’s difficult to choose when quoting): “A sound that sends a shiver through the heart…” and “The scenery of the sound” and “How can she make such beautiful chords, like bells ringing in heaven?” and “…the particles of sound were so fine, they sank directly into the heart, and stayed there” are a few examples.
“This must have been the standard A above middle C, but I could immediately picture scenery opening out before me, with a path extending through a crisp silvery forest. A young deer seemed to frolic in a hidden glade.”
Each of four parts is prefaced by a successively altered line drawing of a piano, and the whole is contained within a gorgeous blue watercolour dustjacket that illustrates the enigmatic title. Which is also explained thus: “Hammers made from sheep’s wool, striking strings of steel. And that becomes music.” It is flawlessly translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel. Most readers will find it impossible to reach the last page without feeling a little uplifted, without a smile on the face.
This unbiased review is from a copy provided by Penguin Random House Australia