Ben says on p. 37, "Those keys, nothing between me and them, I die." Henry asks him where he got that idea. From Professor Wenger, his teacher, Ben says. Then...
"Those keys are your friends," said Henry, sounding even kinder.What Will must have been thinking is not revealed to us. In fact I just realized that there's a link here between Ben and Will: fear of keys.
Ben shook his head. "Keys kill. Keys kill." [He senses danger in the keys, that the music so unlocked with consume him. He's afraid of that. Wenger once said the those keys would kill him unless he worked on developing his skill, an awful thing to say.]
"Well it was nice to see you again, Ben," Henry said.
For Ben, keys are things that operate a piano, that unlock the music. For Will, keys are things that unlock doors. Of course music is a door to another world, but that's another thing.
There's an idea for a book: a music student who takes a job in a locksmith shop to support himself and he studies to be a concert pianist.
And there's quadruple meaning here. Keys unlock doors. Keys allow playing the piano. Keys access the emotional depth of music. Keys are islands, as in the Florida keys. What do they unlock?
What do you think about this? Can we talk about writing here? Post a comment.
Writing is, to me, an entrepreneurial activity. Entrepreneurial ideas are the life's blood of my writing. For my entrepreneurial course, Entrepreneurship on Line, go to www.hatman2.blogspot.com. For entrepreneurial real estate to www.yourstopforrealestate.com/blog.
Ian Kearney, the director of the Kearney Music School, an elite musical training school in Philadelphia, dies after a fall from a balcony during a recital. World-famous cellist, Henry Harrier, recently forced from the faculty, returns to investigate Ian's death when his prized former student is arrested. Henry shows through his brilliant and single-minded pursuit of the truth that, as usual, they have it all wrong. This Sherlock Holmes-type mystery leads the reader through the world of classical music and lays bare the conflicts which dominate the lives of talented adolescents when placed under the pressure of studying for a demanding, stressful, and often elusive career as a classical music performer. Henry Harrier is part John Le Carre's George Smiley, part Arthur Conan Doyle's Holmes, and part Orlando Cole the beloved teacher, renowned chamber musician, and until his own retirement, the premier cellist of the Curtis Institute.
Tim was born in Pittsfield, Massachusetts, on January 30, 1946. In 1951 he moved with his family to Schenectady, New York, where he lived through high school. He attended Baldwin-Wallace College, Berea, Ohio, from 1964 to 1968. He graduated in 1968 with a B.A. in history and philosophy. He received his Ph. D. in history in U.S. history in 1980 from the University of Wisconsin-Madison after spending 2.5 years in the U. S. Army. Most of his army service was completed in Wuerzburg, Germany, from 1969-1971. In 1972 he returned to Madison to complete his doctoral study. His dissertation, Those Who Moved; Internal Migrants in American 1607-1840, combined the statistical analysis of genealogical and biographical data with the study of traditional literary diaries, letters, and journals.
