“I loved The Violin Conspiracy for exactly the same reasons I loved The Queen’s Gambit: a surprising, beautifully rendered underdog hero I cared about deeply and a fascinating, cutthroat world I knew nothing about—in this case, classical music.” —Chris Bohjalian
“Alone, we are a solitary violin, a lonely flute, a trumpet singing in the dark. Together, we are a symphony.”
I need to read. Need like a persistent itch that I’ve got to scratch or it will drive me insane. Hearing other people’s experiences (real or imagined), witnessing their personal stories up close, fills in the seams for me. Cracks and holes too—the ones news and social media (and frankly, some people) open up. Sometimes I simply need to escape. To transport my heart and mind to another place, like portable magic. Sometimes I feel utterly compelled to climb into someone else’s shoes, to see how they feel, only to walk around and get comfortable in a size 13. The fact is reading gives me a new set of eyes to see the world with.
Rayquan McMillian’s eyes felt illuminating to me. Illuminating like Richard Wright’s black boy, Zora Neal Hurston’s Janie Crawford, and Toni Morrison’s Milkman. Yes, The Violin Conspiracy is about a priceless Stradivarius, an unlikely virtuoso, and music that is the full spectrum of colors: golden, blue, red, green, and gray. Beyond that, it’s a coming- of-age story about a boy who course-corrects his future destined for the grind of poverty and, against all odds, replaces it with inconceivable but reachable dreams. This new release reminded me that life needs beautiful rhythm as much as it needs structure and familiarity. More importantly, the heart of Brendan Slocumb’s message is one we all need to hear right now: acceptance shouldn’t be reserved for a select group. Time to shake off archaic, sometimes unwitting, ideas about race (among other things) and belonging. Time to ditch whoever put the rat in rat race.
I know it’s unlikely, but I’d love to meet Bryan Stevenson sometime, Zora Neal, and Toni Morrison too. (God rest that woman’s beautiful soul.) I’m adding a newcomer to that list. I wouldn’t need but a few seconds of Brendan Slocumb’s time—just long enough to thank him for letting me see the world through his mature eyes.