"Grandiose, in a corrupted romantic style"

Next up in our cast for Ian McEwan's revisiting of Hamlet is Claude, the hero’s uncle.  He conspires to kill his brother, John, with the help of his lover (and sister-in-law), Trudy. She is pregnant with our hero-narrator, whose hatred of Claude has some roots in the man's musical ignorance.

The patronym brings about the first mention of a European composer. Whenever he introduces himself, the plotting uncle says “Claude, as in Debussy,” so as to help with the pronunciation of his name. This does not fail to disgust our narrator. (Chapter One, p. 5). For the man seems to revel in his ignorance. Claude conjures up the French composer's name as a mere icebreaker, without any interest for the composer’s works.  Our fetus-narrator sets us right immediately: “This is Claude as in property developer who composes nothing, invents nothing.”

At the beginning of Chapter Three, the narrator tries to understand who his uncle really is. The description addresses the musical features of the would-be assassin. “Here is a man who whistles continually, not songs but T.V. jingles, ringtones, who brightens a morning with Nokia’s mockery of Tárrega.” (p. 20). It is hard not to smile at the hero’s indignant tone. He not only denounces his uncle’s ignorance and vulgarity but also addresses the Finnish brand’s commercial appropriation of a composition by Francisco Tárrega, a turn of the century classical guitarist and composer.

Don't be fooled by Claude's icebreaker or our latest mention of a European composer.  Claude’s world is the world of pop culture. His greatest musical accomplishment in the story comes in Chapter Twelve when he whistles the theme from “Exodus” (composed by Ernest Gold). The author uses the adverb “cheerily” and notes that Claude’s “full vibrato” is on display. Once again, the musical reference gives our hero the opportunity to distance himself aesthetically: “Grandiose, in a corrupted romantic style, to my newly formed ear, redemptive orchestral poetry to Claude’s.” (p. 112).

In the same chapter, Claude’s musical expression seems to add tension in a scene that involves his co-conspirator, Trudy.  Dismissive of her feelings, Claude “croons a snatch”. The lyrics are from a song that remains nameless: “They said you’re screwed, your act’s too crude, but we came throuuugh.” (p. 118). Notice the triple vowel in the last word, a device intended for readers, so they can experience the antagonist’s annoying vocals. While the expression “your act’s too crude” could easily be applied to the singer in general.

On the next page, the uncle is “half humming, half whistling something new” (p. 119). Again, the song remains nameless. Perhaps this is meant to be a musical representation of the schemer’s imprecision that the narrator so often decries in the novel. While Claude can’t make up his mind on whether he wants to hum or whistle, the lyrics are so generic that they could belong to any song.

It's no coincidence that “a delivery van's pop music” reaches our narrator at a time when the illegitimate couple is more determined than ever to carry out their crime (Chapter Nine, p. 85). The sensation is complete with its Doppler effect: “the cheerless band lifting and dipping a microtone but staying in tune with itself.” The narrator adds: “There’s a message in there for me, just out of reach.” Is the narrator referring to the lyrics of the song? Or does he see a symbolic value in the frequency shift?  

McEwan, Ian, Nutshell, Vintage, Penguin, 2017