The Upright Piano Player

This book is not congruent by the title on the cover! Piano Player! - to whom was David referring to? Sounds like a separate book to me.

A good read. Definitely recommend

Last month, some friends invited me to their beach house on a stretch of shoreline along the Delaware coast, but I was reluctant to accept. The last time I had been there, I was put-off by the sheer volume of vacationers carrying cotton candy that stickily cascaded down cardboard stalks like fake wisteria, or ice-cream cones that dripped like melting wax. The smells of salt-water taffy, Cin-o-Buns and Hush Puppies (onions should never be paired with sugar in my opinion) had endlessly repelled me. I was further overwhelmed by the explosion of young people, whose snugly fitting T-shirts (adorned with messages, like, “You’re ugly--have a nice day”) suggested they might—at the very least--have chosen a larger size. However, as it was the week of my birthday, and because I had nothing else planned for this dreaded occasion, I graciously accepted the offer.I have to report that my beach outing was not altogether unpleasant. One night, I found myself in a small book store on one of the neighboring beaches characterized by families who preferred to eat at home and perhaps browse a few books afterwards. The atmosphere was deliciously quiet—you could hear a pin drop, as the cliché extolled. Soon I was lost in a sea of books, the paperbacks beckoning me with their low-grace promises and the hardbacks with their seductive prose.Tucked away in a discount stack was a small, debut novel, whose cover bore the print of an Edward Hopper-style painting: a finely calculated rendering of modern American life. Left of center sat a solitary diner in a sea of empty wooden tables--finely polished--reading a book, his face cast in in a half-shadow. Through a cut-out overlooking the main dining room sat a piano player, his body silhouetted in the gloomy light, tinkling the ivory of a baby grand in an equally empty room. I quickly grabbed the book (I was feeling somewhat alienated from the beach “scene”) and, upon purchasing it, fled to my guest room for a night of reading.The storyline itself was neither action-packed nor ambitious, but the protagonist, a divorced retired business exec living out his days in lonely anonymity in a London suburb, was ill-content (rightfully so, as his ex-wife--whom he secretly adored but had cast aside when she engaged in a meaningless affair--lay dying from a terminal illness). At least until a 'thug' spies him in a brasserie and darkly attempts to exploit him financially. This incident sparked a series of events that, while nerve-inducing, catapulted him forward into a new "beginning." The afterglow of this lively phase was quickly snuffed-out by the untimely death of his grandchild during our protagonist’s watch.It was the Myth of Sisyphus recalibrated. Dreary yes, but not unimaginable. The "gent" (as his countrymen would have described him) was humble, despite his enormous wealth, and he managed to have enough idolatry to affirm his "still-in-the-game" status. I was absorbed enough to return to the book store to buy the author’s second novel (the dust jacket declared he was working on this). Only then did I learn that the author, upon publishing his debut novel as a retired senior, died before completing it.A wistful sigh emanated from my lips. The writer's name was David Abbott, and a Google search told me he was one of the greatest advertising copy writers in the UK--no doubt punished--in Sisyphean fashion--for his self-aggrandizing craftiness and deception of British consumers. Forced to roll out one ad stratagem after the next, repeated for near eternity, the weight of their meaninglessness appeared to have collapsed-in on him. But not before he managed to write a darned good book.

A quite moving story, so well told.

The book opens mightily, with the aftermath of a freak accident; then rewinds five years and unfolds in (third person) flashback, much less mightily, as the eponymous piano player, the central character, moves towards recollection with his estranged son and grandchild set against violence and grief and bunch of not-hugely-interesting, not-particularly-well-developed peripheral characters... this is a well-written novel, a tragic tale full of melancholy... and yet oddly rambling all the same. The central character is not somebody I came to care about or root for particularly, even though I strongly suspect that I was meant to, and when the book was finished, however well-written, I was glad to be done with it, which cannot be a good thing. And yet...

How messed up can one person makes their own lives and still not learn anything from it? That's how I would sum up this book and if it hadn't been a book for my bookclub I would've not finished it.

What does a title reveal about the contents of the book? What direct or subliminal message does it give? I asked myself these questions as I read "The Upright Piano Player" by David Abbott. Even though music plays a role throughout the novel, the upright piano is mentioned only once or twice, a hold from the narrator's childhood.As I pondered more, I noticed the title's interesting word play. Is the player of the piano an upright character? Does the pianist play an upright piano? Or, perhaps, is the reference to both?Henry Cage, a man who has defined himself by practicalities, work, and uprightness, is now retiring. Over the years, his work ethic has cost him his family. Alone now, he sits at his upright piano but doesn't know which tune to play. The chorus of his life seems to be filled with melancholy and random events that are often violent. Cage is often in the wrong place at the wrong time and the reader wonders if he had changed the signature, whether this might have made a difference in the outcome of those events.Part One, much as a first verse, sets the tone for the book. It is so painfully sad I almost didn't turn the page to begin the second. But I kept reading because of the depth of Cage's character and the complexity of the plot. And when I finished the story, I knew I would read the book again.Like a haunting melody, this story waits for a second encounter. I kept putting off that next reading of "The Upright Piano Player" because I wasn't sure I wanted to experience the emotions another time, but I knew I had to. I had to find the mention of the piano and I had to make the connections between the music and the characters.You see, I think the author is making comparisons between life and an old upright piano. Some of the keys, like life experiences, are white; some are black. There are harmonious chords and discordant combinations. Each song has a beginning and each song has an ending. If the upright piano also happens to be a player piano, then whatever roll the Master inserts is the song that plays, regardless of the body whose hands are poised over the keys. Whether the music is chosen for us or we choose the song, it must be played.Just as songs must be played, stories must be written, and books must be read. It is our obligation as readers to bear witness to the message. Perhaps our role is to join the choir and acknowledge that life is often unfair. But perhaps we are simply to gather around the piano and, even as we question the choice of the upright piano player, merely listen to the heart-wrenching beauty of those bittersweet tunes.

Henry Cage a successful wealthy businessman is nearing retirement and his ordered routine life is about to change. He is fussy and introverted and has a very 'set' routine existance.On New Years Eve - the millenium new years eve! - a random violent act sets in motion a sequence of events that shatters his structured lifestyle and evolves into tragic consequences.A series of events occur which give insights into Henrys family life or lack of it and the few characters within the novel are well described .Dark family secrets are revealed and the sense of the passing of time and the shortness of life and the chances to make amends are realised.This is a beautiful novel written with an excellent eye for detail and kept me engaged for 2 nights while I finished it.

I was walking in London and happened to stop into John Sandoe books. I asked for help in finding a special read. The woman in the store gave me 4 books, the first being "The Upright Piano Player." The writing is wonderful. The story is gripping, moving, sensual, sad. It's clever too. It made me think about my life, consider my choices, relationships, how fragile it all is, and also how beautiful. I became fascinated with the author and read the back jacket to find out more -- anxious to read everything else he has written. A photo of a handsome man well over 50 peers back, and the best part is, this is his first book. I hope he writes his second soon.