Customer Reviews

The Choir (Eagle Large Print)

5 star:		(5)
4 star:		(4)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

When I was visiting England several summers ago, this book was a best-seller. Suspecting that, no matter how popular it might be in Britain, any novel on this subject would be as unheard of and unobtainable back in the U.S. as if it had never existed, I bought three copies-- and good thing, too, because so it proved. For all I know, if it hadn't appeared as a PBS miniseries, American dealers would still not have gotten around to offering it. One has to wonder what else is out there around the globe which the arbiters of American taste casually put on the spike. Thank goodness Amazon and the Internet now provide an end run around provincialism.

After buying my three copies, I started to read-- and wished that I had waited, because I was immediately helpless to prevent the next couple days in London being largely wasted as such. Not even the sights from the top of a double-decker bus could compete. (I did, however, cool my heels for two hours in Westminster Abbey holding my place in line for evensong in the choir stalls. The book made this as painless as it was worthwhile.) You see, the way Trollope got right down to business wasn't fair to tour guides. Already on the second page, a young man was collapsing at the bottom of a staircase convulsed with sobs because he was not up there rehearsing with this choir. How did she know that he could have been myself? I have a theory that there are two kinds of people in the world: the many who don't know what this is about, and the few who do. It was almost unbelievable to be holding in one's hands, at last, a book written by someone else acquainted with this grief.

Yes, this story has subplots concerning church politics, colorful eccentrics, and of course sex and adultery. But I think that these are come-ons. What the book is *about* is what it begins with: the rare but heart-rending ache of the visitor on the stairs; what it climaxes with in the middle: the ardent speech of the headmaster in defense of his choir school; and what it ends with: "Henry sang." (Hence American dealers' neglect.) Alas, even after giving a welcome enough thumbs up, some of its readers didn't get it. Short of the exquisite music of a cathedral choir itself, this eloquent novel is the clearest possible evidence that the ignorance, when it exists, is sometimes invincible.

As a devotee of Joanna Trollope, I had always avoided this one book, due to the dreary book notes that invariably describe it as some row or other about a boys' school choir. I simply could not imagine such a topic holding my interest for more than five seconds, Trollope or not.

But it did.

Far from being the dismal plot described above, it turns out to be probably one of Joanna Trollope's very best, both in the writing and the plotting. Yes, it does take place in a boys' school, which is closely affiliated with the town's cathedral. The main characters are all quite Britishly normal, thank you, and not a bit precious. On the contrary. We have a runaway wife who always returns, a bored-stiff housewife (mother of a choir boy) who begins a torrid affair, four utterly horrid teenaged and twenty-ish offspring of the cathedral's long-suffering dean, and much, much more.

When a group of disaffected socialist (seriously) townspeople decides that the choir is antiquated and must go, that the headmaster's house must be sold out from him and his family and made into a town social hall, and that the catherdral, the deanery, and everything in between is a haven for the rich, the close-knit and relatively peaceful community is torn apart. Trollope's skill, as always, is in somehow effortlessly drawing us into the real feelings and anguish of very ordinary people who become less ordinary as they face the crises of their lives. In that, she is like her ancestor, the great English novelist of the 19th century, Anthony Trollope. Unlike any other of Joanna Trollope's books, this one most closely reminds this reviewer of the senior novelist's brilliant works.

As always, the end is not a happily ever after, but, as the British say, a "sorting out" of feelings, personalities, and lives. Some come out the better--others collapse.

"The Choir" is simply a wonderfully written work of art, and I am glad to have read it, and doubly glad to be able to recommend it to any reader who loves a finely drawn novel.

Joanna Trollope introduces us to a small British city with a cathedral that dates back to before Henry VIII and all that goes in making this building a living, breathing entity. Trollope does a fine job of setting the mood in the first few pages.

As one would suspect, caring for a building which was first built in the 15 or 16th century requires a great deal of funds. Unfortunately the structure has not stood the test of time and major reconstruction is needed to save the building. Where to get the money for this not-inexpensive undertaking is the task that the dean of the Cathedral faces. The political manuverings to save the structure are all consuming for this man. He will do almost anything to keep the building but what he has forgotten is that it will be just that - a building, but one without a soul. The soul of the cathedral is it's choir and it is this that the dean proposes to dispense with to divert funds from the upkeep of the choir to the upkeep of the building. What he doesn't bargin for it the opposition of this idea that erupts from the cathedral school in the form of the headmaster and a few long time members of the school board and the choirmaster.

The opposition is quite an interesting group, from the headmaster who is a respectable priest married to an independent and strong-willed woman, to the choirmaster who is divoreced and at the school at all, only by good fortune and the suffereance of the dean of the cathedral. Their professional and personal lives are quite well detailed and totally beliveable. I found myself wondering who the models for these charecters were.

We see town politics interjected as well as the grandfather of one of the boys has set his eye on obtaining church property for use by town as a social service office. He is portrayed as a late in years Labourite, still at war with elitest organizations and sees the church as a prime example of this class distinction. Set in the height of Margaret Thatcher's Conservative government in Britain, it is a small scale depiction of the events that took place throughout the country as Conservatism rearranged the social fabric of the country.

Trollope does a masterful job of taking a subject that is little known in this country, the Anglican Church, and introducing us to this organization. She also makes her characters believable and interesting. I found myself unable to leave the book - it bears the scars of being read while I was inhaling both the book and fast foods. I first read the book several years ago and have read several times since then. It is a book I never tire of reading and discover things I missed each time I do. I highly recommend this book to all with an interest in the social and religious fabric of Great Britain.

Enjoyed the idea of the importance of the cathedral as the center of this small town. In today's focus on technology and fast pace, it was an interesting novel about the importance of tradition (the choir) can play in our lives.

Sex! Religion! Politics! Not since Barbara Pymm has such a clinical eye been cast upon the Anglican clergy (though Trollope's canons, deans and bishops have more juice and ambition, her judgment of their moral lapses is as tart as it is funny). The cast of characters includes yes, the requisite lonely wife, Sally, her precociously musical son Henry and Leo, the handsome and eccentric organist/choirmaster, but the subsidiary characters, from Sally's father-in-law, the aging Socialist (who is waging his own battles with the both secular and "saintly" powers of the fictional cathedral town of Aldminster; the headmaster and his poet wife; the hag-ridden Dean, his implacably assured wife and their horribly indulged children to assorted minor characters including Old Boys, bishops and bankers are sharply drawn, devastatingly real. The most satisfying aspect of the novel is, in contrast with Trolloppe's better-known (thanks to Granada TV and PBS) "The Rector's Wife," is that life turns out to be for the better, though not in most ways as planned and that the characters (even the Dean) are better able to assess their own motives, even if after the fact. I would never have purchased this novel based on the dreary, "wet" synopsis above - only because I was browsing a three-dimensional bookstore and read the opening paragraphs (sorry, Amazon.com, but at up to $12/copy even for paperbacks, readers want to know they're not making a mistake.) So, if you've ever enjoyed Margery Allingham, Angela Thirkell (yes, she's a snob but delicious anyway) and dear Barbara Pymm, or you'd just like a heck of a good read, try "The Choir."

I found this book to be a charming portrait of life around the Cathedral of Aldminster, encompassing the choristers, the Choir School and its masters, and the clergy and their wives and families. The headmaster ofthe school traditionally resides in the large, 17th century house which is attached to the Cathedral, but socialist members of the local council see it as an anachronism to modern day living and wish to buy it so that it may be converted into a day centre for minority groups. The Dean of the Cathedral is very keen on this idea as he needs funds for major repairs to the Cathedral roof, but, when it's suggested by other members of the church council, that the money should be used to keep the choir going, a huge rift appears in the formerly placid Close. The choir of boy singers is a particularly fine one with a long tradition of singing sacred music for all of the liturgical year and for providing a very good education, based on a musical background. A number of townspeople fail to see the necessity of a choir at all, claiming that it's only appreciated by an elitist group without connection to the modern day world. The characters who people this story are beautifully drawn, with each occupying their particular space in this rarefied atmosphere. It's a delightful read!

the novel, which deals with church politics and life in a small community. I agree that the number of characters reduces the depth in which each is presented, but this is a technique deliberately chosen, as with Dickens, when socio-ecclesiastical-political matters are at the forefront. 'The Choir' is a well-written novel, an enjoyable read, with more serious concerns which never bog it down in authorial pontification.

I live in a small town, Blowing Rock NC, that for a few years was on the map because Jan Karon, then a resident, wrote a hugely popular series of romans a clef about Mitford. Virtually nothing happened in these books, except the middle-aged vicar was much beloved and I think he had a dog and a housekeeper and endless pages were devoted to people chatting over tea. A certain kind of reader loved this series (and Ms. Karon made a bundle off them) because there is no sex, violence, or foul language, and nothing really bad happens in them. Well I am about 80 pages into The Choir and I think I see where Jan Karon got her inspiration. Mitford: an American Auldminster. Of course an American town can't claim a cathedral going back to 1500, no socialists want to take over the church property, and the Brits in Ms. Trollope's book are a bit feistier than the people in dear old Mitford; but it is another one of those novels where all the characters are lovable eccentrics and you keep waiting for SOMETHING to happen. I hope my review does not encourage people to rush out and buy the Mitford books, if you happen to like Ms. Trollope's work. There are far more stimulating ways to spend your leisure hours than reading either author, in my opinion. I am happy that I ordered a used copy through Amazon rather than spring for the full price.

The Choir displays the virtues of JT's novels and, to my mind, may be placed just below her masterwork, Other People's Children (no shame in that). There is a cast of the usual suspects who range from the wise bespeaker of old English virtues, to the snarling emblem of our modern, self-centered, pampered society, the character who works mischief all around by doing what she/he feels like doing. The plot offers more than a small dose of unrealistic wish fulfillment and large doses of the author's usual theme--namely, that a woman become strong by beating up on a man, usually a man of straw. But here nobody eats her/his cake and keeps it too. As usual, the writing style is clear, easy, spare--much like the style of America's own Anne Tyler--with no straining after flourishes; and both writers detail the tribulations of modern, middle-class household life, especially the depredations wrought on a vibrant soul overwhelmed by diapers, whinny brats, a selfish (or overly solicitous) husband, and the demands of passion. A highly recommended book.

Contemporary novels of manners seem to be a province almost exclusively of the English. These gems of human observation and wit center on a small community's reaction to an event which affects each member.

"The Choir" involves the Cathedral of Aldminster and its boys' choir and school. The dean of the Cathedral, Hugh Cavendish, is a man who buries his disappointment with his four outrageous children and his insensitive wife in single-minded devotion to the architecture and history of the old cathedral and the buildings which encompass its close.

The headmaster of the school, Alexander Troy, is currently preoccupied with his independent wife's latest defection. Frank Ashworth, a councilman and a principled socialist of the old school who bemoans the cathedral close's elitist aspect, hatches a scheme to acquire the headmaster's beautiful old house for the benefit of the people of Aldminster.

The dean, appalled at the prospect of losing a treasured old building to the council, soon receives another blow - extensive and immediate repairs are needed to the cathedral's roof - and the amount would just about be covered by the sale of the headmaster's house.

But the dean sees a way out of his dilemma, a way which will also consolidate his power. He proposes to Frank that the council take over the choir, pointing out that access to it would then become more egalitarian. In return for Frank's support he will consider selling the house, having, of course, no intention of doing any such thing.

Meanwhile Frank's grandson, 11-year-old Henry, is the newest and most talented chorister. Henry's father is off making money in Saudi Arabia and his mother, Sally, is ready to end her unhappy marriage. Through Henry's talents Sally meets the organist and choirmaster, the divorced and mercurial Leo Beckford, who falls madly in love with her. And Ianthe, the dean's daughter, who owns a partial interest in a fly-by-night recording company, is suffering agonies of unrequited love for Leo. Then there's the sad and directionless former chorister who haunts his school seeking the sense of purpose he once found there - and finds again in the ensuing fight over the choir.

Lines are quickly drawn. The council (as expected) spurns the choir as expensive and irrelevant and the dean dooms it to disband. The headmaster digs in his heels, Ianthe sees her chance to make points with Leo, Sally cuts off contact with her father-in-law, Frank, and Frank, torn between his principles and his personal loyalties, sees all he has worked for in his life slipping away in political backbiting.

The ripples of the fight continue to expand as emotions rise, bringing several marriages and friendships to crisis even as the community cleaves together in ways that inspire and exhilirate the whole.

Trollope has a gift for seamless development. Although there's a lot going on, the novel never seems overcrowded or confused. And ever simmering under the common public effort are the myriad individual maneuverings and ambitions, all of which contributes to a delightful, absorbing story.

Those who have seen PBS' dramatization of The Choir should not bypass the novel - its emotions and motives are far more subtle, complex and comprehensible than the teleplay version and its characters much more appealing.