海角大神

Lots of guys claim to be great listeners. Frank really is.

Given a few minutes and a few details, the record store owner will come up with the exact song a person needs to hear. Frank鈥檚 ear is legendary, and his gift for music therapy almost preternatural.

For a man 鈥渨ho only likes Chopin鈥� and just got his heart broken, he prescribes Aretha Franklin. For the tattoo artist who owns the shop next door, Barber's 鈥淎dagio for Strings.鈥� Frank chases down a shoplifter who steals Genesis鈥檚 鈥淚nvisible Touch,鈥� tackles the young man, and says he won鈥檛 call the police if he will come back and listen to Mendelssohn. (He can even keep the album, although his choice just breaks Frank鈥檚 heart.)

The Music Shop is just as run down and full of eclectic lonely souls as any fan of 鈥淗igh Fidelity鈥� or 鈥淭he Commitments鈥� could wish. It鈥檚 1988, and business is slower than usual for the shabby shops of Unity Street. A development company is offering a buyout, but Frank smells a rat and urges the community to hold on to their quirky, neighborly way of life.

Rachel Joyce鈥檚 first novel was 2012鈥檚 鈥淭he Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry,鈥� in which a British retiree decides to deliver a letter to a dying friend in the north of the country by foot. 鈥淭he Music Shop鈥� is less melancholy, but still tends to a minor key. Like that novel, it revels in resilience of ordinary people, and empathy and loyalty are prized above more material considerations.

Frank, who has banned CDs from his store, has two listening booths made from gigantic Victorian wardrobes and a Persian runner dividing the cardboard boxes of albums classified by feel rather than by alphabet. For example, Bach鈥檚 鈥淏randenburg Concertos鈥� are shelved with the Beach Boys鈥� 鈥淧et Sounds鈥� and Miles Davis鈥檚 鈥淏itches Brew.鈥� 鈥淪ame thing, different time,鈥� Frank says.)

The only music he cannot listen to is the 鈥淗allelujah鈥� chorus from Handel鈥檚 鈥淢essiah, which his mother wanted played at her funeral. And while he has boundless patience with other people鈥檚 pain, he keeps his own hidden well away, Joyce writes. 鈥淔rank might have cut a lonely figure but this did not make him unusual on Unity Street, where many people had once been alone.鈥�

If CDs are dismissed as antiseptic 鈥渢oys,鈥� one can only imagine what Frank would have made of the digital era. 鈥淲e need lovely things we can see and hold. Yes, vinyl can be a pain. It鈥檚 not convenient. It gets scratched. But that鈥檚 the point,鈥� he tell a music rep. 鈥淲e are acknowledging the importance of music and beauty in our lives. You don鈥檛 get that if you鈥檙e not prepared to make an effort.鈥�

Then one day, a young woman in a green coat faints outside the store and Frank hears only silence. After she comes to, Ilse hires Frank to give her weekly lessons. As they cover everything from plainsong to punk, music appreciation classes take on new meaning. 鈥淢usic is about silence鈥� the silence at the beginning of a piece of music is always different from the silence at the end,鈥� Frank鈥檚 mother once told him. 鈥淏ecause if you listen, the world changes. It鈥檚 like falling in love. Only no one gets hurt.鈥�

Everyone from the tattoo artist (who has Frank鈥檚 name inked above her heart) to the former priest Frank saved from alcoholism with jazz is pretty sure they know what鈥檚 going on. And everyone (except the tattoo artist) is almost as smitten with Ilse as Frank. The story is unabashedly heartwarming, and Joyce is skilled enough to avoid is false notes.

As is traditional with romantic compositions, there鈥檚 a grand gesture. This ones manages to be both period accurate and over the top. It鈥檚 absolutely predictable, but left even a jaded critic with a goofy smile on her face.

鈥淭he Music Shop鈥� is one sentimental journey that will set a reader鈥檚 heart at ease.