The Piano Tuner, by Daniel Mason

Part travelogue; part love story / piano tuner’s instruction manual, and thriller; sadly this book never quite makes up its mind what it is.

Piano tuner Edgar Drake is commissioned to travel to Burma to tune a grand piano owned by Dr Carroll, medic, peace-maker and intermediary between the various tribes and the English Government. Shy, quiet Edgar takes leave of his wife of eighteen years, and boards a boat.

I enjoyed the long eventful journey out to Burma – despite it taking 182 pages to reach the village where the piano was. I did wonder if Edgar Drake had been deceived into performing the job of mule – taking coded documents or packages under cover of respectable piano technician, but these suspicions were almost forgotten by the time the true facts materialised.

The love story simmered throughout the book; exotic Khin Myo vying for attention with the memory of Edgar’s beloved wife, Katherine, back home. Edgar and Katherine had been very amorous, we are told, but remained childless. Three months away from home, and in the company of a fragrant female, any man’s thoughts might turn to - let’s face it – nookie! And sure enough by page 268 shy repressed Edgar is emboldened by ‘the outline of Khin Myo’s breast pressing at the (wet) cotton of her blouse.’‘In the deep recesses of his chest he felt something stir, a longing that she would invite him to her room…..a wish that their hands would touch…their fingers would meet and entwine…she would look at him, and he would look down at her.’Heady stuff!!! Only 39 pages later ‘…a strand of her hair broke loose ….it tickled his lip….he moved his face closer…. She turned her head…she said his name.’

Later Edgar found Khin Myo’s comb on the beach and kept it for several days: he examined and caressed it, unable to make the heart-rending decision to return it to the exotic fragrant lady. He gave her a piano lesson; she pressed one key and he declared ‘now you have played Bach!’ Whist tickling the ivories, one thing led to another and ‘their hands rested together on the piano.’ He asked, ‘Is this why you came here tonight?I cannot go on!

I enjoyed learning how a piano tuner works – eventually. On arrival at Mae Lwin, when we might have expected Edgar to at least be allowed to look at the piano, Dr Carroll (his host) packed him off to bed, and next morning occupied a further 10 pages taking his reluctant guest hunting for the day. Next morning a similar time was spent in Dr Carroll’s surgery and hospital, until at last we followed Edgar into the inevitable darkened room to meet the piano - on page 217.

Alone at last he began his work; regulating, voicing, tuning, and re-tuning. We learn about shimming, and whether bamboo will do instead of spruce – to repair the cracks; we discover the relationship between key and hammer; how to ease sluggish jack-centres, and adjust the let-off. After this, back in his room he read the eight pages of a letter he was given by Dr Carroll about the tough time he had bringing the piano from Mandalay to Mae Lwin in the first place. This should have appeared much earlier in the book than p 230.

Malaria then hit poor Edgar: he spent a couple of nights delirious, sweating and shivering and floating above the bed - watching himself. The next morning the doctor said ‘…even I was concerned, and I have seen many cases.’ The fevers came and went over the next few days, followed by more days resting and recovering. He had lost weight during his illness but despite this he set out one morning probably without breakfast, or a packed lunch, for a solitary hike around the locality. He climbed up sharp rises and passed several villages, and by noon he is ‘sweating profusely’. He met up with Khin Myo and they went through groves of trees, past rivers and eventually skipping and hopping into a meadow to enact one of the seduction scenes previously mentioned. As the rain began they ran and ran, getting more wet, until ‘her breast pressed at the (wet) cotton of her blouse, etc etc.’ All that on an empty stomach a mere week or so after almost dying of malaria. Perhaps they bred them tougher in those days.

During the course of the book, Dr Carroll frequently disappeared, and reappeared just as arbitrarily and mysteriously. These could have been the innocent absences of a very busy peace-keeper and intermediary; or something more sinister. Also there are suggestions that Khin Myo may or may not have been ‘with’ Dr Carroll. This is never properly resolved: although she refers to him as ‘Anthony’ which pretty-much clinches it.

At the beginning of chapter eighteen (p 281) Edgar eventually decided to write home, having missed his beloved so much. He penned a report / philosophising stream of consciousness under the salutation ‘Dear Katherine’ and proceeded to bore her for 4 or 5 pages, ending by saying he might not post it anyway.

Intrigue and politics now began to intervene – politics that neither we nor Edgar are particularly involved with. Dr Carroll browbeat Edgar into impersonating a certain Lieutenant-Colonel Daly, by the age-old trick of demanding something disturbing and questionable in return for previous freely given favours of hospitality. Edgar began to feel threatened, and disturbed by Carroll’s assertion - coming like an unwelcome draft from a window - that ‘you are now considered missing, perhaps already under suspicion.’ No reason for this is forthcoming, except that he has been missing (without his knowledge) for ‘so long.’

The news came that the village of Mae Lwin was about to be attacked, and Edgar was instructed to hot-foot it with the piano, on a raft to safety. Off he sailed, with three travelling companions, into the sunset; for once yielding to the piano, playing it as they slid gracefully down the river. And then BANG!

Three dead bodies, only 20 pages from what should have been ‘and they all lived happily ever after.’ The haunting limpid story knee-jerks itself into a blaze of action. Edgar is not one of the dead, he is arrested for espionage.

There is a scene, near the end, where Edgar is talking to a ‘shadow’. For some reason (and this is not the first time) Daniel Mason decides to write without quotation marks, and we have no clear idea who is speaking at any one time. This abandonment of convention serves only to irritate. In order to make sense of the conversation the reader is constrained by having to re-read sections of dialogue to establish who is speaking. Five pages of hard work are not what the reader wants at this critical stage of the book.

There is an earlier example of this (p 35) between Edgar and Katharine, when they confront each other about the proposed trip. The tense also changes from past to present. ‘He crosses the room, he touches her arm.’ These are more like instructions for a play. I don't like it. It’s too important to mess with - as is the conversation with the shadow.

A third example (p142) is at a party; inconsequential chat between guests, ‘Lady Aston my dear, you do look lovely!’ etc. this is acceptable and resembles background music.

Overall I found the book slightly disappointing. 348 pages should have been enough to tell the tale, but too much time was spent getting Edgar to the piano, and not enough time was spent setting the espionage undercurrent in place, and dealing with the consequences at the end. There are beautiful passages of writing, and the narrative - apart from the odd dialogue - is easy to read. But what is the point of self-discovery for poor Edgar as his warmth seeps into the ground?

Reader no 4