London Calling
October 2002

London Calling
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By John Eyles

A plea and a challenge: Which novel that you have read contains the best writing about jazz? Please contact me to share your opinion with London Calling readers. If you wish, cite evidence in defence of your nomination. I will include the best communications in a future London Calling.

It is a common complaint among jazz fans - there are very few novels that contain any decent writing about jazz. It is not obvious why this is so. After all, the history of jazz is full of colourful, larger-than-life characters and stories that are as lurid, tragic, and heroic as any fiction. Jazz would seem to provide perfect material for a great novel. Yet the books that are most often cited as must-read jazz classics are biographies and autobiographies, notably including Beneath the Underdog by Charles Mingus and Straight Life by Art Pepper. Novels such as Jazz by Toni Morrison and White Jazz by James Elroy have been among the most disappointing, because their titles raised expectations only for these to be dashed by the books themselves. Although they are both fine books, they contain precious little jazz. (Elroy-loving jazz fans hope that he will one day apply his terse, pithy prose to the music. His style would suit it perfectly.)

At this point, let's give an honourable mention to a great, unclassifiable book about jazz, But Beautiful (Abacus) by Geoff Dyer. It is not fiction, but it certainly goes way beyond the known facts about jazz legends such as Monk, Mingus and Chet Baker. If the facts provide a skeleton, Dyer puts flesh on the bare bones, speculating about the lives and making them real. In the process, he adds to the mythology of jazz. Most importantly, (and surely a key criterion for any writing about music) this book makes you want to listen to the music again. And when you do, you hear it differently as a result of reading this book. Highly recommended

Given all of the above, it is surprising that the past year has seen the publication of three new novels, each with a title designed to lure jazz lovers, and each with a jazz-related theme. For some inexplicable sociological reason, they have appeared in quick succession. Suddenly it seems trendy to write about jazz... or at least to allude to it. Just like London buses, you wait ages for one to come along and then three arrive at once!

Twelve Bar Blues (Viking/Penguin) by Patrick Neate won the Whitbread Novel Award earlier in the year. Although it has aspirations to be an epic novel spanning centuries and continents, at the heart of the book is the story of one mythical jazzman called "Lick" Holden, set in the first decades of the 20th century. Holden's story combines elements that are recognisable from the biographies of several players, but they are neatly bundled up into an engaging story that will bring a wry smile of recognition to fans of early jazz. Suffice to say that Holden discovers the joy of playing cornet whilst in a child detention institution and that on release he eventually ends up in Storyville. Along the way he encounters the likes of Buddy Bolden, King Oliver, Kid Ory and one Louis Armstrong, "who didn't play hot until he'd met Lick Holden". Oh yeah? A ripping yarn by a writer who clearly loves to tell tales.

On Green Dolphin Street (Vintage) by Sebastian Faulks follows his celebrated novels Charlotte Gray and Birdsong. As a result of their success, there was a buzz of anticipation about this book. On Green Dolphin Street is set in late 50s/early 60s America against the backdrop of the Kennedy-Nixon presidential race. However, the publicity describes the book as "a novel about adultery, jazz and alcohol", hence our interest here. Well, there is certainly adultery and there is certainly alcohol, even alcoholism. But if you are looking for jazz, look elsewhere. The jazz is wholly incidental to the plot or the characters, and the writing conveys no great passion for the music. Despite the fact that the key relationship of the book is consummated to the strains of Miles playing "On Green Dolphin Street", you will not be scurrying to listen to the track again based on this showing. In fact, an era, place and subject that should set the pulses racing are all made to sound rather mundane. As proof, I offer you this excerpt, a conversation between two supposed jazz fans:

Charlie said, "Have you heard this fellow Ornette Coleman I keep reading about?"
"I went to see him once. At the Five Spot. I didn't really like it, that free stuff. I'm not sure it's as difficult as it looks."
"Apparently, he can play the piano and the violin and the trumpet as well."
"Sure. But how well does he play them? That's the point. Do you like Miles Davis?"
"Quite", said Charlie, "But I'm pretty much lost with anything after Duke Ellington. This hard bop stuff, you know, Charlie Parker and Dizzy..."
"Yeah, but Miles Davis is kind of melodic, too. Did you hear the Kind of Blue record?"