My mother bought me Music and Silence by Rose Tremain for Christmas, after recommending it to me for many years. The winner of the 1999 Whitbread Novel Award, the book has wholly lived up to my expectations.
Let me say first; Music and Silence is a beautiful book. Lyrical, moving and at times blackly funny, it is told through fragmented, alternating narratives. Tremain has created a world made up of cold dark Danish landscapes, unfulfilled dreams and every shade of the human nature.
Set in the seventeenth century, and (mostly) at the Court of the Danish King, Music and Silence is obviously a historical novel. I have a keen interest in history, and I loved the historical detail and the creation of seventeenth century life. It’s done convincingly, and the fact that the characters are nearly four hundred years old makes them no less interesting or relatable to the contemporary reader.
The cast are led by Peter Claire, an English lutenist in King Christian of Denmark’s orchestra, and Emilia Tilsen, a lady-in-waiting to Queen Kirsten. Kirsten is one of the most fascinating and compelling characters that I’ve read for a long time – self-obsessed, tyrannical and spoilt, she is a truly dangerous creation. When she is eventually ejected from the court in disgrace, poor Emilia is at once captured into her intrigues; despite the fact that Emilia’s heart would much rather be going to England with Peter Claire, instead of watching Kirsten trying to have an affair with Count Otto.
The only element in the novel which I didn’t find totally convincing was the love story between Peter and Emilia. Although the plot point is written exquisitely, one just doesn’t really believe that they can love each other so very passionately after two brief meetings. Perhaps that’s just my stony cold, cynical heart – but their love story really seems to serve as a springboard for subplots to evolve from, rather than to lead the plot itself.
The subplots that do evolve are enthralling, however. The real strength in Music and Silence lies within the supporting cast, and each of their subsequent stories are equally compelling. My favourite is perhaps Ellen Marsvin and Vibeke Kruse; in which another humble lady-in-waiting, whose only real joy in life is to eat pastry, is elevated to Kings Consort through the schemes of Ellen.
Music and Silence definitely has a fairytale quality to it – from the love story of Peter and Emilia to the Evil Stepmother. Magdalena marries Emilia’s father after her mother dies, and is the ultimate pantomime villain. She immediately sets her sights on excluding Emilia and her younger brother Marcus from the household, and seducing the four other Tilsen brothers in the airing cupboards and fields of the Tilsen fruit farm.
The novel centres around strong, dangerous women; Ellen who schemes to give the King a new wife of her choosing, the Dowager Queen, Sofie who hoards money to the cost of poverty-stricken Denmark, and both Magdalena and Kirsten recklessly dominate the lives of their male counterparts. Johann Tilsen and King Christian are helpless while these women plot and conspire against them.
The book is at once a fairytale but also powerfully real. There are no faux emotions here – the crafting of feeling by Tremain is masterful and amazingly moving.
WHAT TO DO NOW?