BORROWER OR LENDER

G K Chesterton once said that, "A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells the truth about its author." I wonder if this is the same of givers and - perhaps the lesser breed - recommenders of books.

Books as gifts split into many categories including: something known and already requested, something new and fashionable (winners of the Man Booker prize, 'Parrot and Olivier in America' - that sort of thing), an anodyne compilation ('The Classic 1000 Cocktails', 'Comic Quotes'), an unwanted accent to a hobby ('Material Obsession: Contemporary Quilt Designs', 'The Galata Guide to Medieval Half Groats: Edward III to Richard III'), or - repeat or - a risky intellectual contribution such as 'Montaigne's Essays' or 'Endless Forms Most Beautiful: The New Science of EvoDevo'.

Yet gifts are one thing but it seems recommendations are often another. "You must read this" when commonly stated often means, "I haven't read it but you should" or "I have read it and was rather bored by it but it sounds good and I may have missed the point so to ensure you don't think the less of me I am suggesting strongly that you read it so at least you'll be in the same boat." This latter is often the subliminal reason behind the foundation of book clubs.

Rarely but luminously, there are exceptions to all of the above and I have had the pleasure, in the last four days, of being immersed in one such: 'Body and Soul' by Frank Conroy. Mr Conroy is one of those whose fame such as it is came late in his life/his literary career. And I gather that fame grew for him as a result of his memoir: 'Stop-Time' which I have yet to read rather than because of 'Body and Soul'.

The book was given to me, elegantly wrapped in newspaper which seems in wrapping paper terms to be the new 'black', with a strong admonition from the giver that this was one of the greatest books he had read ... this was his private first edition copy ... that this was writing that was sort of like Vaudeville: wonderful but rarely encountered these days. In short, kind of a heavy trip to have laid upon one during a birthday party sing song.

But for once the recommender was right and even more rarely I opened the book and started reading ('War and Peace' notwithstanding) only a few days after the gift was made and only a couple of days after I had written my thank yous saying that no matter what, this precious tome would be returned.

So enough drivel. 'Body and Soul' is about the development of, and experience of being, a piano virtuoso and I gather Mr Conroy was a talented jazz pianist which gives some gravitas to his writing. The music is mixed with some post-war Jewish gilt, family disfunction and just here and there some unexpectedly slippery sex.

Claude Rawlings, our hero, hails from a poor New York background and lived originally in the sort of deep appartment room where, as Woody Allen once said, in the Wall Street Crash you had to jump out of the window and up onto the sidewalk.

Claude has a god-given musical talent that attracts teachers, watchers, sponsors and scholarships. One of the key relationships is with Fredericks, one of the great interpreters of Mozart. And with this there is a lot of satisfactory, heatwarming dialogue, for example this section when Fredericks asks the young Claude to partner him in the Mozart Double Piano Concerto at a music festival in Long Island:

"It would be nice to have more time," Fredericks continued, brushing a mote from his sleeve, "but we'll have to make do. We'll be using the Breitkopf and Härtel edition, and I suggest you take a very close look at the orchestral music with Mr. Weisfeld. We didn't do much of that before and it's important. Study it."

"Yes, sir."

"I can manage four piano sessions with you. I'll let you know the dates. The first will be devoted to the twenty-two bars after the entrance. Now, I know you'll probably be playing the whole thing night and day, but remember, first we'll be digging into those twenty-two bars. We'll get them right, and the rest will follow."

"I understand."

"Excellent." Fredericks stood up. Claude jumped from his chair and they shook hands. "I'm looking forward to this," Fredericks said. "It's such an elegant piece."

They went upstairs to find Weisfeld in the front, staring out the window. "It's a lovely day out there today," he said, as if, for some reason, surprised.

"All is arranged," Fredericks opened the door and the bell tinkled. He looked up at it, "E-flat! How appropriate!"

From inside they watched him enter the Rolls, which pulled away from the curb like a great black ship gleaming in the sun.

"Well," Weisfeld said, as they stood shoulder to shoulder, "this is quite a development."

"I can do it. I can do it."

"Of course you can. He knows you can, or he wouldn't have suggested it."

"With an orchestra," Claude whispered.

"With Fredericks!" Weisfeld reminded him. "Maybe the best Mozart player alive."

"I can't believe it" Claude said. "I mean, just like that? Just ..." His voice trailed off.

"It's the ways things happen sometimes."

For several minutes they stood in silence, watching the street. Claude felt a brief electric shiver over his whole body, the hair on his arms standing erect. "Oh, my god," Claude said suddenly, panicked.

"What?"

"I forgot to ask him what part I'm going to play, one or two."

"We discussed it," Weisfeld said. "The second part. The lower one."

Claude blew out his cheeks and released the air. "Okay. Okay, good."

"It's the part Mozart played," Weisfeld said.




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From Serve to Stroke

I have met few great sportsmen but hearing about Andy Murray's reduction from Briton to Scotsman over last weekend, led me to think about a drink I had with David Sawyer, in the 'Old Tom' pub in Oxford in the early 1970s. David who?

Sawyer was a good American tennis player - good not great although he might have become so had he stayed on court. I think he was one of those excellent young college players whom the Americans produce from time to time, the most famous being John McEnroe, of course, who got through to the quarters or semis at Wimbledon when still a college amateur.

But Sawyer gave up tennis because he didn't like, he said, the psychology of the game. Whereas duffers like me concentrate merely on getting the ball back, players of Sawyer's potential class and anyone in the higher rankings, know it's a question of dominating the other person - making them loose confidence and therefore quality - in Sawyer's terms, "You have to grind them down".

And of course the grinding may be overt - such as when Sampras in his heyday destroyed the excellent Boris Becker in that 1995 Wimbledon final when having the lost the first set tie-break Pete then played perfect tennis taking the next three sets 6-2, 6-4, 6-2 and to my recollection, missing no services, returns of service nor lines.

Or it may be more subtle when - for me the mark of a tennis champion - you refuse to give way on break points in the way that Federer did against Murray a few days ago and so created the (very real) impression of invincibility which it is pointless to challenge.

But Sawyer gave up tennis and became a rower winning, I think a silver medal for the USA either in eights or fours at the 1972 Munich Olympics. He then went to Oxford where, it became clear, he was either genetically indisposed to feel pain or exhaustion or was so bloody-minded that he'd fight on through no matter what.

He said to me he very much preferred being a part of a 'crew' rather than being on his own on court and he also, more jocularly preferred facing backwards (although in his case from the stroke seat, this again meant he ended up looking at the failing opposition).

Sawyer's strength of body and of character became legendary at Oxford but in fact, it was this that probably cost Oxford the Boatrace in 1973 when, it is said, Sawyer refused to allow the boat back to the banks (before the start) to empty it after hitting a series of bad waves and, it was claimed at the time, then lost with one of the greatest crews the university had ever produced and with a boat half filled with the Thames.

Despite this loss, I would strongly argue that Sawyer and his spirit were the starting point for what has become known as the Revival which led Oxford to win 17 of the next 19 races. Not bad for a base-line jockey!