"So, what's your novel about?" The dreaded question, invariably answered with '"How long do you have?"
It functions on three levels.
First, it's the story of one man, Reuben Mendel, who survives the Holocaust by playing in the Men's Orchestra in Auschwitz (see photograph in the centre of the banner).
Secondly, it's an ode to music, employing musical allusions, phraseology and references to illuminate the tale. Two pieces in particular, Bach's Partita No.2 for Solo Violin and Beethoven's String Quartet No. 13 (end picture), play prominent roles in the narrative.
Thirdly, it seeks to do something rather different in the pantheon of Holocaust literature in particular but all tales of catastrophe generally: confront the legacy and the meaning via Reuben Mendel's mission to make sense of what befell him specifically and so many others, generally. It takes him to places some may prefer not to go, such as whether religious observance is compatible with Auschwitz, and how Israel should conduct itself, given what happened between 1933 and 1945.
Authors strive for a compelling opening. We all dream of finding that one sentence or paragraph which hooks our reader. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." "it was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking 13."
Here's how Grosse Fugue begins.
It functions on three levels.
First, it's the story of one man, Reuben Mendel, who survives the Holocaust by playing in the Men's Orchestra in Auschwitz (see photograph in the centre of the banner).
Secondly, it's an ode to music, employing musical allusions, phraseology and references to illuminate the tale. Two pieces in particular, Bach's Partita No.2 for Solo Violin and Beethoven's String Quartet No. 13 (end picture), play prominent roles in the narrative.
Thirdly, it seeks to do something rather different in the pantheon of Holocaust literature in particular but all tales of catastrophe generally: confront the legacy and the meaning via Reuben Mendel's mission to make sense of what befell him specifically and so many others, generally. It takes him to places some may prefer not to go, such as whether religious observance is compatible with Auschwitz, and how Israel should conduct itself, given what happened between 1933 and 1945.
Authors strive for a compelling opening. We all dream of finding that one sentence or paragraph which hooks our reader. "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." "it was a bright cold day in April and the clocks were striking 13."
Here's how Grosse Fugue begins.