Violin Lessons, the latest book from Arnold Zable, lies somewhere between a memoir and a series of short stories. Composed of eleven tales from different parts of Zable's life, these stories trace his steps from war-torn Vietnam, to Poland, Berlin, Greece, Venice and back to Australia. While each story features the narrator, he is rarely the focus instead documenting the lives and experiences of those around him with a delicate thoughtfulness.

Zable's earlier books have leant towards examining tales of tragedy and of survival and Violin Lessons continues this tendency, showcasing people haunted by the past, by experience or by their place in the world. Many of the stories are deeply melancholic, looking into the results of the Jewish experience during World War II or the anger and sadness inspired by Poland’s repressive government in the 1980’s, but the author is careful to never let that emotion overwhelm the book. Indeed, many of the tales are ultimately hopeful, the tenacity and potential for catharsis in the human spirit on clear display, along with the hope that understanding is the eventual result of any experience.

With the series of different short tales, all of very high quality, there will be something of interest for all readers. The chapters in Germany and Poland are wonderfully affecting, their characters poignantly drawn and their connection to the author evocative. The Wall, in particular, is an absolutely stunning piece of writing, capable of inspiring deep empathy. The entire book stands up well to this particular highlight though. Each story has the power to draw an emotive response and the language to inspire. From the Threnody, recounting a love of and betrayal by the sea, to Amal’s tale of death and survival onboard Siev-X, and the impact it had on her remaining years, told here with beauty and clarity by Zable.

Music is the link between each of these vignettes. Each chapter has its own accompanying song or musician, referenced and interplayed within the tale and many of the chapters will have readers pulling up a copy of the song mentioned to experience it with the author. In the repeating lament of the Greek Isles in Threnody and the undertones of anger and victory found in Nina Simone’s Pirate Jenny in The Wall, the writing itself mimics the form of the music, further enveloping the reader in the book and the sound.

Even when not touching on the musical form, the lyricism of the writing ties in perfectly to the musical focus of these stories. Each story flows with a resonant legato, before closing on a resolving note, keen observation and emotion lent weight by carefully constructed phrasing. It is never overt though and the quality of the writing is noticed mostly in retrospect, as you realise how well it supported and enhanced the narrative, without distracting from it.

This is a genuinely beautiful piece of work, history made poetry through graceful writing and a caring eye.

- Sky Kirkham