Author: Joie Davidow

Publisher: Arcade Publishing

ISBN: 9178-1-950691-78-4

On the face of it, Joie Davidow, author of the intriguing and absorbing new novel, An Unofficial Marriage, seems to ask quite a bit of us.

For one thing, she might like us to feel somewhat at home in a turbulent Europe of the second half of the Nineteenth Century, even though some of us may have little understanding of such things as the cholera epidemic in 1849, Russian manor houses, and many other events and entities that defined the era—events and entities that are not part of our definitive knowledge base of the times. 

For another, she may want us to have a passing familiarity with Russian literature and French and European opera, even though Anna Karenina and War and Peace could be the extent of our acquaintance with Russian prose, and the only operas we really know are all Italian. 

Davidow also asks us to accept that the real-life characters in her mostly-fictional universe existed the way she presents them. Her leading protagonists are the French opera singer Pauline Viardot and the Russian writer Ivan Sergeyevich Turgenev. Both were real, and Sergeyevich did have profound feelings for Viardot, even though most of us will have to rely only on faith that what happens in the book either happened or very well could have happened. 

And then, of course, there’s the novelist’s conviction that we won’t get winded traveling from country to country, while also asked to commit to memory many foreign names, and to feel comfortable with unfamiliar habits and traditions, even though there’s so much to take in at such a brimful and breathless pace.  

A hell of a lot of even thoughs for a mainstream novel.  

But a novelist with an almost limitless amount competence, confidence, and conscientiousness can pull it off.

Ms. Davidow pulls it off, mostly by being a wonderful storyteller and proficient wordsmith. 

That’s not to say that I, nor any other reader for that matter, have to consider An Unofficial Marriage one of the most gratifying and revelatory novels on our bookshelves in order to fully admire it and recognize its value to our collective literary canon. As readers of my BookPleasures reviews will note, the volumes I take on range wildly, from tongue-in-cheek whodunits and self-deprecating autobiographies, to psychological thrillers and celebrity reflections. My reactions to these books are equally wide-ranging. In short, I can’t and don’t love everything, but I can and do appreciate original ideas, authentic endeavors, and good writing. An Unofficial Marriage meets all those requisites. 

I decided to take on this expansive tale of love and obsession, of destiny and fortitude, for a number of reasons. Perhaps chief among them is that as a fan of E. L. Doctorow (Ragtime, The Book of Daniel), I wanted to see how Ms. Davidow handles real-life characters in a book of fiction.

Also, I knew that the novel, by virtue of its characters’ lives, delves deeply into literature and music, which are two of my own passions. That was indeed a draw. And since the author is a musicologist herself, as well as an industrious journalist, I sensed that she would have an iron grip on many of the subtleties and sentiments that can turn writing about music and literature into an extra special indulgence. 

Allow me to give myself a pat on the back: I was right. My many even thoughs notwithstanding, An Unofficial Marriage is imminently readable and quite interesting. As others have stated, the book has the sweep and expressiveness of an opera, which of course is as intentional as it is inevitable, not just because of the storyline, but also because of the author’s background. Davidow, who has a Master of Music degree from the New England Conservatory of Music, was once taught by a noted vocal coach at one of the most famous opera houses in Rome. 

An Unofficial Marriage is about obsession, and the story certainly feels like an obsession of the author’s own. With so much going on, with so many emotions and theatrics, people and places, and historical references to work in as accurately as possible, it had to be an obsession. Otherwise, she may never have taken it on, and she might never have been able to do it as well as she has. Sometimes personal obsessions work out well not just for the one obsessed, but for other people, as well. Like readers. To be sure, not every one of them will automatically feel Davidow’s fixation and share in her fascination. But they, too, may like the book a lot, even though.