The Strange Case of the Composer and his Judge

I've gotten lucky this summer with the books I've been reading: they're almost uniformly fascinating, sink-your-teeth-into-them stories with strong plots, strong characterization, and darn fine storytelling. I can't tell you how much I value that. One of the most recent books I read was the thoroughly enjoyable The Strange Case of the Composer and his Judge, by Patricia Duncker.

This book tells the story of a French juge d'instruction, Dominique Carpentier, who specializes in gathering information on fanatical religious sects. When one of these cults, known only as the Faith, commits mass suicide, the Judge (as she is known throughout the story) is pitted against the enigmatic Composer, Friedrich Grosz, who is connected to every single one of the dead. Her quest to find out what he knows about the sect takes her all over Europe, from sunny Provence to England to the Lubeck Festival in Germany. And through it all runs music.

The entire book is a masterpiece of sound and color, light and darkness, heat and cold. Duncker weaves a vivid picture of sweltering summer days spent eating lunch on the terrace of a Provencal vineyard, shivering winter days wandering from one German bookbinder to another, and two magical nights at the opera. Because that's the thing: the Composer is world-famous, one of the heads of the international music scene. He's very clearly modeled on Herbert von Karajan (whom I pictured throughout) or Daniel Barenboim. And he is not afraid of the Judge, or angry at her for her pursuit of his knowledge: rather, he loves her for it. And he uses what he knows best to attract her: music.

The Judge has no use for classical music, but still attends two operas: the Lubeck Festival's Tristan and a concert performance of Fidelio at Royal Albert Hall. The author clearly has a fine grasp of opera, clearly enjoys it herself. As her Composer says of Tristan, when learning that the Judge has never been to an opera before,

"Madame Carpentier, you are a very corageous woman. I have conducted this opera many, many times in the course of my professional life. Yet each time I find something new, fresh and miraculous in the score. So, even for an old hand like myself, the familiar remains strange, uncharted, even obscure. Let me advise you how to listen. Do not rationalize. I know that you are a very rational person. A Judge must be so, to sift the evidence. But put that part of yourself aside. Do not assess things or try to calculate. Or really even try to listen. Let go of everything...Yes, let go. And give the music time to speak to you. ...If you are not an aficionado you will be harder to persuade. We will give you our best. Our very best"

She then goes on to describe a Tristan so sensual as to be almost erotic. The Fidelio scene is much the same. Duncker uses words in a way that you really do hear the music, even if you've never actually listened to either opera before. The writing is sensuous, elegant, and the story interesting. The characterization is strong, from the cool Judge to the passionate Composer to the overbearing chief of police and the sylph-like daughter of the deceased.

I give it five stars, and will be reading it again.