A darkly funny New York existentialist novel
- Book: Someday Everything Will All Make Sense
- Location: Manhattan
- Author: Carol LaHines
I wonder—how many of us have at least one friend who insists on living in a past age? In my case it was an elderly Brit who spent a lifetime trying to achieve “just intonation” by tuning the vibrations of oddly shaped metal instruments. My friend would have found a kindred spirit in Luther Van der Loon—the narrator and protagonist of Carol LaHine’s darkly funny book about a professor of early music who worships the “perfect Pythagorean intervals” and resents their corruption by the modern, equally tempered 12 tone scale.
With the same passion that Luther rejects equal-temperament, he rejects the idea that his beloved mother choking on a wonton was a senseless accident for which no one can be held accountable. To the dismay of Celia, his therapist girlfriend, he wakes frequently in the middle of the night, waving his fist and cursing the legion of Chinese deliverymen in New York City. Behind her back, he initiates a law suit against the ironically named Seventh Happiness restaurant, even as he wallows in guilt at his inability to save his mother by performing the Heimlich maneuver. His constant flashbacks to the scene of her death, recurring nightmares, and frequent panic attacks are all symptoms of PTSD.
It is difficult to tell what Luther grieves for most – the loss of his mother or the loss of what he sees as the pinnacle of perfection in music. In many ways the book resembles a musical composition, with the two motifs being the death of his mother, who he fails to save, and his equally hopeless efforts to resuscitate a dying form of music.
Celia’s playbook of standard grief counseling techniques is no match for Luther’s determination to intellectualize his grief. He is unattractive physically and has a morbid streak, so one of the book’s initial mysteries is what she sees in him that keeps her by his side. Gradually we find that he is not entirely unlovable, nor is he illogical. When he opines that “There are heavenly, sonorous tones, auspicious ratios, that have been eliminated in the interest of uniformity,” I found myself taking his side, much as I love the sound of jazz piano. Seeing the world through the lens of his devotion to music also makes him endearing at times – as when he describes a lawyer as having “giant bearish hands, stubby fingers and a meager finger span — entirely inappropriate for playing a sensitive keyboard or string instrument.”
This existentialist novel lives up to its title in unpredictable and often delightful ways. Is there an order to the universe that was violated when instead of #25 – beef and broccoli — Luther’s mom changed her choice to #29 , General Tso’s Chicken thereby consuming the fatal wonton? Are the divine ratios proof positive of the existence of a Superior Being and if so why did churches let their organ pipes be reconfigured in conformity with the equal temperament? The ending hints that someday everything will all make sense.
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