Book Review: “August Blue” by Deborah Levy
Here at Clef Notes, we’re always interested in how classical music is used in works of literature. This month, we review Deborah Levy’s latest novel August Blue (2023). The book is told from the perspective of a famed concert pianist named Elsa A. Anderson, who suddenly walks off stage in the middle of a performance. Leaving her illustrious performing career behind, she travels Europe in search of her identity outside of the one that was created for her. What ensues is a journey of self-discovery told through Levy’s shimmering prose that blends the hyperreal with the surreal.
Having begun her career as a playwright, Deborah Levy gained renown as a novelist in 2012 when she was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize for Swimming Home. In addition to her plays, she has written eight novels, a collection of short stories, and a series of “living autobiographies.” Levy (b. 1959) was born in South Africa but moved to the United Kingdom as a child after her father, who was imprisoned for three years for anti-apartheid activism, was released. As such, much of her work explores themes of dislocation, confronting the past, and creating oneself anew. Her 2023 novel August Blue is no different.
For Elsa, her dislocation is not knowing her birth parents. A piano prodigy from the age of six, Elsa is adopted from her foster parents by the highly regarded piano teacher Arthur Goldstein, who molds her into a world-famous concert pianist. However, their dyamic is more one of teacher–pupil than father–daughter. The uncertainty of their relationship is an overarching theme as Arthur becomes infirm and Elsa must reconcile who he is to her and what she owes him.
This reconciliation takes place within a larger crisis. Elsa has just made a potentially career-ending move, abruptly breaking into music of her own during a performance of Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in Vienna. She walks off stage and goes on an indefinite performing hiatus just as the COVID-19 pandemic also hits. Like many real-life artists, Elsa uses this time away from the stage to do some soul-searching, particularly as she has had minimal agency over her own life so far and knows little about her origins. While in Athens, Elsa spots a woman in a flea market whom she immediately believes to be her doppelgänger. She forms a parasocial relationship with this mysterious woman. As Elsa looks outward to answer inner questions, the woman challenges Elsa’s preconceived notions about who she is through imagined conversations Elsa has with her throughout the novel.
This strange, telepathic relationship casts doubt on Elsa’s reliability and stability as a narrator. In addition, some of the vignettes that ensue are so surreal, yet so vividly described, that you cannot be sure if Elsa is imagining them. These moments of uncanniness proceed within moments of hyperrealism, cast through the all-too-familiar lens of the pandemic, complete with rapid tests and masks. Levy’s writing is almost like a mosaic of images whose symbolism is not always immediately apparent but you know there’s some deeper meaning lurking beneath the surface. Once you surrender yourself to Levy’s unique style and suspend your disbelief, the book lulls you into its dreamy world where the mundane suddenly becomes miraculous.
The poetry of Levy’s writing lends itself well to depicting the inner workings of a musician’s mind. However, music does not play as big of a role in the book as one might expect, at least in terms of the plot. Levy namechecks famous pieces of piano music and includes a few scenes where Elsa teaches or plays the piano, but these scenes are more in service of revealing aspects of Elsa’s past or character. In fact, musical references form one part of a larger collage of references to artists, dancers, philosophers, and poets. Instead, the real music of August Blue lies in Levy’s writing, particularly captured by conversations Elsa imagines with her doppelgänger that recur like a musical refrain: “Maybe I am. Maybe you are what?”
August Blue is an intriguing book that merits rereading to adequately plum its psychological depths. At just under 250 pages, it packs emotional heft while maintaining a sunny lightness on the surface. If you decide to pick up a copy, check out this playlist of music mentioned in the book to put on as you read:
