Customer Reviews

Deep Purple: A Novel

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Augustin Caban is a retired music critic. He thinks of writing his memoirs.And the outstanding feature of his life was his pursuit of the great virtuosa he encountered over the years.

And thus begins the explanation of the orchestra: Clint Verret on the piano,Rebecca Cheng - clarinet, Manuela Suggia - violin, Alejandrina Sanroma - celeste, Clarissa Berdsley - French horn, Virginia Tuten - violin. Each woman is shown her place in the orchestra. Their virtuosity is explained by their musical preference. Most of it is quite modern, if not outright contemporary - Edward Elgin, Bela Bartok, Holst, Saint-Saens.

Augustin makes love to them the way he perceives their connection to their instrument and favorite music. He is in control. he knows exactly what they want and need. but as each case develops it becomes clear that it is the women who are in control. And they are an assembly of truly weird ones. As we go along, it becomes rather pornographic. And forget about the guide to the orchestra.

Montero writes well and that is the redeeming grace of this book. The basic idea is interesting, the execution titillating.

As music critic Agustin Caban retires, he writes his sexual memoirs, sharing them with a gay editor who is particularly intrigued by Caban's affair with a male pianist. Caban's other encounters are with women, including passionate sex with a celeste player and oral gratification with a French horn player from Menominee, Wisconsin (which I mention only because it's close to my home town). I don't view the memoirs as pornographic, as did another reviewer here, but they are definitely erotic, and that's the point. Music becomes a sexual fetish for Caban. His encounters are recited in a lyrical style, almost musical in itself. The link between music and sex has probably never been so boldly illustrated as in this brief novel. This isn't a conventional novel, and it certainly isn't for everyone, but I thought it was a fine piece of writing.

Agustin Cabán, music critic for a San Juan newspaper, has just retired, and is writing his memoirs and sharing them with his editor. These memoirs consist primarily of his sexual encounters with musicians, and Montero writes of the connections her protagonist finds between music and sexual desire.

I had read other books of Ms. Montero's, Dancing to "Almendra": A Novel, and The Messenger: A Novel, both of which I enjoyed and found intriguing. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for Deep Purple. It's basically one sex act after another, and emotional content is lacking. I don't mind the descriptions of sex. I enjoy good pornography and I enjoy good writing about sex. But this wasn't either.

With all due respect, the reviewer above is mistaken about "contemporary" composers. The ones listed -- Elgar, Bartok, Holst, Saint-Saens -- all died between 1921-1945. In fact, most were dead before today's leading contemporary composers -- Corigliano, Knussen, John Adams, for heavens sake even Philip Glass were born! This reviewer's "contemporary" composers all croaked long before rock n' roll started!

With all due respect, the reviewer above is mistaken about "contemporary" composers. The ones listed -- Elgar, Bartok, Holst, Saint-Saens -- all died between 1921-1945. In fact, most were dead before today's leading contemporary composers -- Corigliano, Knussen, John Adams, for heavens sake even Philip Glass were born! This reviewer's "contemporary" composers all croaked long before rock n' roll started!

This novel is a waste of time, I only read the first chapter and threw it away, it is boring and confusing.
It is true that paper can hold anything.After the Deep Purple fiasco I realize that anything can get published.
Ms. Montero, the tittle Author is too big for you.
You are a shame to the publishing industry.