Play that song: a "The Ensemble" review
Music has such a profound impact on a lot of lives. It may start young, with parents playing Mozart as their babies fall asleep. It may come when kids start listening to the radio and singing along to whatever's playing. It may come when, as a teenager, someone randomly discovers a song that speaks to them, and then that artist does the same. It may even come when someone starts playing an instrument and discovers a world of classical music, pieces that hark bark to earlier eras, ideals, and romance.
My only experience with classical music comes from my eleven and a half years of piano lessons, so when I read the flap for The Ensemble and saw that it would follow the lives of an orchestral quartet, I was immediately intrigued. I was never a band or orchestra kid in high school (and I'm not sure if I'll ever be), but knowing that this would include some references to classical music I could learn about alongside potentially interesting character dynamics piqued my interest. I checked it out from the public library near my college, started listening to it slowly on audiobook, and then began reading it physically not long after.
The Ensemble is a literary novel at its core, full of rich writing that borders on purple prose and a character-driven narrative. It won't be for everyone, but I believe it's definitely worth a try. Aja Gabel's debut is such a delicate and intense character study, one unearthing the intricate nature of a quartet that spends so much of their time together that it seems like they wouldn't be able to hide any secrets from each other, yet they do. Each person has their own past, their own path to music, their own struggles, and it's fascinating to watch them grow from fresh-faced conservatory graduates to middle-aged adults, with children of their own and pasts they can look back on and simultaneously cringe and smile at. Some of the relationship drama gets repetitive, the writing can feel excessive at points, and for their closeness, the quartet seems pretty mean most of the time to each other (Kiznaiver, is that you?). But once the last page is turned, The Ensemble is a satisfying portrait of the complexities kept just below the surface, the lengths some go to hide them beneath the music, and all the ambition that comes out regardless.
It's May 1994, and the Van Ness quartet has just performed their graduation recital at a conservatory in San Francisco. All four are eagerly vying to win the Esterhazy competition in Canada, where their quartet could potentially be catapulted into stardom. But there are some setbacks. Jana, the no-nonsense leader, sleeps with one of the Esterhazy judges because she recognizes the quartet's fraught nature and wants them to be champions regardless. Henry, the young and enigmatic prodigy, is mulling over that same judge offering him a jump into a solo career. And Brit and Daniel, the soft romantic and the cynic, are tearing at the fraying edges of a relationship Brit thought could lead to something more but Daniel never believed would last past the hook-up stage. Needless to say, with all these secrets circling around, they don't end up making it past the first round of Esterhazy. However, even when it seems all hope is somewhat lost, they stick together. Four years pass with the group relocating to New York and getting residencies there. Henry starts an affair with one of his students; she gets pregnant while he develops tendinitis. Jana considers the possibility of beginning a relationship with a member of a rival French quartet and adopting a daughter. Brit meets a man named Paul that Daniel finds himself jealous of, so he enters a marriage with a girl named Lindsay that seems like it won't work out. The group aims for Esterhazy once more, and from there, they continue to rise higher than they did before. But what else is lying beneath the surface of this quartet? Will the cracks start breaking open, or will they be able to be repaired?
As you can tell, a lot of the conflicts present in the book reside within characters and their bonds with other characters. Some of these can get monotonous (Brit and Daniel's romantic dynamic in particular), but Gabel writes with such patience that it allows her characters to grow gradually, even if they may never truly learn from their mistakes, until they reach the point where they can act beyond recognition. Additionally, each protagonist gets the chance to reflect on their pasts, showing their relationships with music and the people who raised them, the people they may start to emulate. Jana's flighty mom, Henry's supportive parents, Brit's early training that ends with her parents dying before college, and Daniel's taut and religious mother all give them motivation for why they act the way they do. Jana doesn't want to become like the woman who can barely book acting gigs and gets trashed every night. Henry knows he's good and doesn't want to worry about what his future will be like without constant music. Brit felt somewhat disconnected from her somewhat successful parents and their recognition that she was great, and that loneliness has only increased after their death. And Daniel's squalor as a kid has only made his relationship with money troubled, as he doesn't want to go out of his way to buy things that will cost him. These impacts are significant, and it's interesting to watch them ebb and flow over the course of the book. Even when the quartet bickers and throws barbed words at each other, it's somewhat reassuring to know they trust each other that much that they don't hesitate to argue.
The writing supports this with a crisp grace, much like the orchestral music at this story's core. Its detail and surprisingly eloquent dissection of the human experience is very palpable and fascinating. Although some of the details feel over-articulate in their specificity (once again, this does apply to Brit and Daniel as well), most of it works, and it remains elegant throughout the course of the book. It's intensely visual and viscerally personal, and I found myself incredibly invested in Gabel's prose because it made me wonder what she would explore next, what character would have their pain expressed, or what time period she was jumping to. It was always a fun surprise.
Lastly, I really liked the strong connection classical music had with the narrative. Naturally, as the book follows a quarter that performs pieces from Mozart and Shostakovich's catalogs, this shouldn't be a big surprise. But each of the novel's four parts contains tracks that the quarter performs that tie into the thematic arc (they also incorporate warming up sounds into the audiobook when the parts change, which has excellent narration from Rebecca Lowman), and the amount of detail Gabel goes into these pieces is great. The way she describes what they represent to each character, how they sound, and what era they call back to makes me want to listen to them and give classical music a chance. It sounds like it can articulate so much in so many different types of movements and styles. It's really inspiring.
Aja Gabel's The Ensemble is a great novel perfect for classical music fans and those who love character-driven literary novels. Its intense portraits that capture the delicacies and hard edges of the human experience, its detail to musician life and emotion, and its fluid prose make for a compelling read from start to finish. It's the kind of character study that will stay with you, much like Celeste Ng's novels. I'll be curious to see where Gabel goes next and what other people she analyzes. It'll definitely be cool.