Akira Mizubayashi wrote a
novel entitled Âme Brisée. We first follow a young boy named Rei
Mizusawa in Tokyo, before focusing on a luthier named Jacques Maillard in
Paris.
In the opening section, a military man, whose name we do not know, places in Rei's care a violin that's been almost completely smashed. What expressions does the author use? The instrument is a “little dying animal” (“petit animal agonisant”, p. 17), “a dying animal” (un “animal mourant”, p. 19, 57), a “mutilated violin”, (un “violon mutilé”, p. 69-70), a “wounded animal” (un “animal grièvement blessé”, p. 72). The author wants us to view the instrument as a creature whose life is slowly ending. Consequently, Rei feels sadness, injustice and powerlessness.
One can indeed feel emotional. As lieutenant Kurokami remarks, too few people understand the human effort (“l’effort humain”) behind the creation of a violin (p. 60). The instrument even has a name, that of his luthier, Nicolas Vuillaume (p. 61). This name will inspire various characters to visit one of the most famous cities for violin making, Mirecourt. The name of the city appears for the first time when a young Jacques decides to move there to study his future craft (p. 96). The mention of a strange pilgrimage brings Jacques to discuss the city's decline: in its heyday, six hundred luthiers worked in the city (“six cents luthiers”). Though Mirecourt's influence has waned in comparison to Crémone's, the violin making capital of Italy, city of Stradivari, Amati and Guarneri (p. 144, see also p. 108, 135 et 152), the city in the Vosges remains an essential location in the story as this is where Jacques and Hélène meet for the first time.
At the time of their first encounter, Hélène has chosen to become a bow maker and has begun her apprenticeship. The idea that a woman would choose these studies is surprising to Jacques, who, before his encounter with Hélène, thought it was an essentially masculine profession (« métier masculin », p. 99). The bow, in the author's poetic language, isn't a living creature but a fantastic vessel, a celestial ship, (un « navire céleste », p. 97). The bow has its own historical representative in the figure of « François Xavier Tourte » (p. 103). Naturally, the symbolic value of the craftpersons' union is a source of excitement for many (p. 129, 160, 186 et 209) as the couple represents a form of ideal.
The author insists on shining a light on these professions. What exactly do we learn regarding the craft? We learn that a great deal of discretion is required. A case in point is the scene with the nosy rival (p. 200). A rare occurrence in the novel, Jacques is annoyed by this behavior and doesn't try to hide it. We also learn to appreciate the relationship between master and apprentice (p. 155-156). Indeed, Lorenzo Zapatini's benevolence towards Jacques is crucial to the young man's development in Crémone. We also learn that the tension that exists between a luthier's quest for perfection and financial viability exists in other crafts as well, such as pottery (p. 139). Finally, we learn that the relation between luthiers and their creations can be quasi mythological. I invite you to read the words of Hélène (p. 200) following a concert which upsets conventions.
What do we learn about the violin itself? We first learn about its anatomy. The X-ray of a damaged instrument reveals to the reader the following words: the soul, the soundboard, the neck, the fingerboard, the bouts, the bridge, the back, the scroll and the pegs (“l’âme”, “la table d’harmonie”, “le manche, la touche, les éclisses, le chevalet”, “le dos”, “la volute et les chevilles”, p. 153). Earlier in the novel, Jacques reminds a violinist that his instrument is a sensitive being: “un violon, c’est un être sensible” (p. 88). These words bring back to mind Rei's helplessness at the beginning of the novel and the author's comparison between the damaged instrument and a wounded animal.
In the opening section, a military man, whose name we do not know, places in Rei's care a violin that's been almost completely smashed. What expressions does the author use? The instrument is a “little dying animal” (“petit animal agonisant”, p. 17), “a dying animal” (un “animal mourant”, p. 19, 57), a “mutilated violin”, (un “violon mutilé”, p. 69-70), a “wounded animal” (un “animal grièvement blessé”, p. 72). The author wants us to view the instrument as a creature whose life is slowly ending. Consequently, Rei feels sadness, injustice and powerlessness.
One can indeed feel emotional. As lieutenant Kurokami remarks, too few people understand the human effort (“l’effort humain”) behind the creation of a violin (p. 60). The instrument even has a name, that of his luthier, Nicolas Vuillaume (p. 61). This name will inspire various characters to visit one of the most famous cities for violin making, Mirecourt. The name of the city appears for the first time when a young Jacques decides to move there to study his future craft (p. 96). The mention of a strange pilgrimage brings Jacques to discuss the city's decline: in its heyday, six hundred luthiers worked in the city (“six cents luthiers”). Though Mirecourt's influence has waned in comparison to Crémone's, the violin making capital of Italy, city of Stradivari, Amati and Guarneri (p. 144, see also p. 108, 135 et 152), the city in the Vosges remains an essential location in the story as this is where Jacques and Hélène meet for the first time.
At the time of their first encounter, Hélène has chosen to become a bow maker and has begun her apprenticeship. The idea that a woman would choose these studies is surprising to Jacques, who, before his encounter with Hélène, thought it was an essentially masculine profession (« métier masculin », p. 99). The bow, in the author's poetic language, isn't a living creature but a fantastic vessel, a celestial ship, (un « navire céleste », p. 97). The bow has its own historical representative in the figure of « François Xavier Tourte » (p. 103). Naturally, the symbolic value of the craftpersons' union is a source of excitement for many (p. 129, 160, 186 et 209) as the couple represents a form of ideal.
The author insists on shining a light on these professions. What exactly do we learn regarding the craft? We learn that a great deal of discretion is required. A case in point is the scene with the nosy rival (p. 200). A rare occurrence in the novel, Jacques is annoyed by this behavior and doesn't try to hide it. We also learn to appreciate the relationship between master and apprentice (p. 155-156). Indeed, Lorenzo Zapatini's benevolence towards Jacques is crucial to the young man's development in Crémone. We also learn that the tension that exists between a luthier's quest for perfection and financial viability exists in other crafts as well, such as pottery (p. 139). Finally, we learn that the relation between luthiers and their creations can be quasi mythological. I invite you to read the words of Hélène (p. 200) following a concert which upsets conventions.
What do we learn about the violin itself? We first learn about its anatomy. The X-ray of a damaged instrument reveals to the reader the following words: the soul, the soundboard, the neck, the fingerboard, the bouts, the bridge, the back, the scroll and the pegs (“l’âme”, “la table d’harmonie”, “le manche, la touche, les éclisses, le chevalet”, “le dos”, “la volute et les chevilles”, p. 153). Earlier in the novel, Jacques reminds a violinist that his instrument is a sensitive being: “un violon, c’est un être sensible” (p. 88). These words bring back to mind Rei's helplessness at the beginning of the novel and the author's comparison between the damaged instrument and a wounded animal.
Mizubayashi, Akira, Âme brisée, Gallimard, 2019
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