I’d much rather read a debut novel that aims high and falls short than one that aims low, or like much commercial fiction, doesn’t need to aim at all. When said novel combines a few of my favorite themes – New York City, Russia, music, technology, and a earnest love story – and the publicity machine behind the novel is silent and rusted, I’m in.

Sean Michaels’ Us Conductors centers on the invention of a very strange instrument, the Theremin, which makes sound by the conductance of electric current through the human body. (You make sounds/notes by waving your arms around, much like an orchestra conductor or band leader). Around this invention, at the beginning of the last century, Michaels builds an elaborate decades-spanning tale of U.S. – Russian espionage, fierce competition among U.S. corporations for new gadgets and devices, other more nefarious applications of the scientific (physics) principles behind the theremin (e.g., bugging devices), American prosperity and depression, birth of Lenin’s communism and its growth into oppressive regimes under Stalin and later rulers, musical composition and performance, and more.

But what clearly challenges Michaels’ imagination is the love story between  Clara, the violinist in Manhattan who becomes his star pupil/player of his instrument, and Dr. Termen, the often naive, self-absorbed behavior obsessive compulsive inventor, if not genius. From early in the story to near the end, Termen is a prisoner, first as a corporate/state spy for Russia in America (how he enters the country), then as an accused traitor who betrayed his country. Without the love story, the beauty of the musical interludes, some human dignity passages in the gulag, and Termen’s will to survive, the reader would suffocate breathing in the tragedy of this man’s life, especially in the second half of the novel.

Fortunately, for a novel with more moving and stationary pieces and parts than a Steinway piano, Michaels’ use of mostly short, choppy sentences, brisk dialogue, lots of white space, and a first-person narration keeps the story from getting mired in the mud. There were moments when I feared the story would fall into melodrama. At one point, I thought, Michaels must have just watched The Shawshank Redemption. At another, I thought he must have just listened to Quartet for the End of Time composed by Messiaen (or read the story behind its birth, a tale of musicians in prison during WWII).

Frequently, Michaels use of similes and analogies seemed out of step. “The sound of the snow was like pepper crushed in a mortar.” I kept trying to square these two sounds and couldn’t. Or this: “Now, in a bare room across the world, I leave commas on the page…like eyelashes.” And this: “The wind howled like an abandoned child.” This is the kind of writing that sounds lovely, until I think about whether it actually works. I can also see where other readers would disagree. How about this: “Slowly you raised your bow and began to saw low notes like a comet at low velocity.” Has anyone heard a comet at low velocity? I suppose it’s a legitimate observation from the character’s mind (a physicist) but for us readers, not so sure.

But then this will appear on a the page: “The sum of all those years draining away, meaningless, before the empty fact of the present.” What a brilliant description of the exact point between his life in America and his emerging one as a traitor/prisoner back in Russia! There is a lengthy scene where Termen sneaks into a building (to steal corporate files) and kills a man, which I had trouble visualizing. However, I will say the last lines are a brilliant, nerdy, soul-crushing summation of his love for Clara.

I suppose this qualifies as historical fiction as much of the story is based on Termen’s life. The author acknowledges his debt to Theremin: Ether Music and Espionage, Albert Glinsky, but adds that his account is full of distortions, omissions, and lies.

Best of all, I stumbled into this novel browsing one of our local independent bookstores. I hadn’t even heard of the title or the author (and I spend a great deal of time searching for offbeat novels like this one). In the world of fiction (or music for that matter), nothing is more satisfying than discovering a new artist who pushes all your buttons and getting acquainted without any introductions or pre-conceived notions from others. I prefer not to be “played” by the constant drone of publicity (though how realistic is that?)

I certainly don’t wish for Michaels to toil in obscurity, though. I hope this blog post will turn other readers on to Us Conductors. It aims high – very high – but only falls a bit short.