In this confessional novel Anne Rice conjures up another seductive, dangerous and ambivalent ghost - one of the eternally undead whose restless spirit is caught between heaven and hell. The heroine narrator, Triana, is in her fifties, short, plumpish, with a pretty face and long dark hair; she's one of four sisters of a Catholic family; her alcoholic mother died when she was 14; her own daughter has died of leukemia. . . . Stefan, the Byronic violin playing ghost appears to her as she's grieving for the death from AIDS of her husband, takes her back to 19th century Vienna, where Beethoven was his teacher, and to the moment when he violently killed his own father and had to flee to Venice. Triana tricks him and takes his precious violin, and herself becomes an international virtuoso and superstar. But her fear is that when he lets her go and she has to give back the violin, she may never be able to play again. She incorporates painful and shocking memories of her mother's death, her daughter's death, the passionate, ambivalent relationships between four sisters, the unreal life of a wealthy superstar - all of which seems to come from Anne's own life - with a savage, glittering tale of violence and music in 19th century Vienna, and the shifting power struggle between Triana and Stefan, the genius in thrall to the
Industry Reviews
Violin can only be described as a self-confessional novel. Anne Rice and her heroine, Triana have much in common. Not only are their names similar, but the events in their lives are essentially the same. So Rice has written her autobiography, using her talent for tragic, sensual spirit figures, tortured by their state of existence, in telling the story of Triana and the death and loss that has accompanied her life. Stefan, the ghost violinist from 19th-century Vienna, is her fantasy figure, she portrays him not unlike Louis or Lestat in her Vampire Chronicles, essentially he is nothing new for Rice fans, just another one of the suffering phantoms. Despite the feeling that the story presented here has already been told many times before in all her other books, Rice still manages to revel in the dark sensuality of suffering, producing poetic images which draw the reader into her world. However, the self-indulgent tone cannot be avoided, which spoils what could have been an otherwise engaging fantasy tale. (Kirkus UK)