There is almost no acoustics or physics or any kind of science in this book, apart from a page or two (out of 672) devoted to personalities involved in violin science. Similarly for the craft of lutherie, famous luthiers are discussed but not how they did it. However, this does not mean that the book is uninteresting to acousticians, physicists, or luthiers. The book is about everything else to do with the violin. It is billed as a social history of the instrument, but it could also be regarded as a history of the world (at least the Eurasian/North American bit of it) for the last four centuries, viewed through the lens of the violin.
The book is organized into four sections: “Making It,” “Selling It,” “Playing It,” and “Imagining It.” The introduction outlines how this small creation from a small town in Italy took the world by storm.
“Making It” charts the development of the “modern” instrument in the 16th century from the glory years of Cremona to the “factory towns” of Mirecourt in France and Mittenwald and Markneukirchen in the German lands, the appearance of Masakichi Suzuki in the late 19th century, to the “lengthening shadow of China” in late 20th century. Bows are also discussed, before and after Tourte, to modern worries about the sustainability of Pernambuco.
“Selling It” spends a great deal of time on Hills of London because W. E. Hill knew and dealt with everyone who was anyone in the violin business in Europe and North America, and left extensive, candid, and often ill-tempered diaries, which are a portrait of a bygone age. For most of their history, the price of violins rose at unspectacular rates; however, recently, like other art work increasingly viewed solely as investments, prices have taken off. Schoenbaum charts this transformation in considerable detail, which is interesting, if depressing (thinking of Oscar Wilde's character “who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing”).
“Playing It” takes us on a tour through the history of how the violin has and is being taught and played. Schoenbaum talks mostly of the upper end of the ability spectrum but allows some time for amateur players, orchestras, and teaching in schools. As an amateur violinist and luthier, I was pleased that he included a quote from G. K. Chesterton: “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly,” because where violins are concerned (as in much else), doing it yourself is much more fun than listening or watching someone else, however brilliant, do it better. Having been the beneficiary of membership in a secondary school orchestra in England in the late 1960s, I was fascinated to learn how the school orchestra movement got started there a hundred years ago, never having thought about it before. Regarding prodigies and super-stars, he touches on issues not only of socio-economics but also of ethnicity and gender—the progression through the centuries of the predominance of Italian (all male), Jewish (mostly male), and Asian (often female) virtuosi. Success is not all musicality and technique: good looks and a whiff of sex sells well (should we be surprised?). He mentions the often jaw-dropping behavior of star teachers (e.g., Ivan Galamian's technique of improving posture by holding a lit cigarette lighter a few inches below a young player's left elbow) and the mental toll taken on the lives of many superstars who, to external appearances, have “made it.” There is also a fair amount of levity; my favorite being Galamian (again) upon being introduced to the balding boyfriend of one of his young female students: “Your beau needs rehairing.”
Finally, “Imagining It” deals with the violin in other art forms: painting, literature, and film. Maybe I was getting a little tired after 500 pages, but I did not find this section so compelling as the first three. At some point around here, the author discovered the word “trope” and started to use it to excess, which I found distracting.
“The Violin” reads like talking to a vastly knowledgeable friend whose monologue hops breathlessly from one topic/personality/century to another by the merest of association. I often had to go back a few paragraphs to read them more closely when I lost the thread of what country and century we were in at the time. That being said, it was a vastly entertaining and informative read.
The book I read was an “Advance Reading Copy” with neither illustrations nor index, but many typographical errors. I assume these issues did not apply to the sale copies, none of which were available in my local or university library, and so I was not able to check.