Well, now that the world hasn't ended, I suppose we can move on...
"The title 'Musical Novel' is a misnomer. There never has been such a thing and there probably never will be."--W.J. Henderson reviewing "Poor Human Nature, A Musical Novel" by Elizabeth Godfrey, in the New York Times, January 28, 1899
Now, that's an idea--the musical novel. Oh, I'm aware of some novels that come with a CD of the author's songs recorded in a garage with an all-electronic (read: Casio) accompaniment. And I know that every now and again, some wiseguy writes a book that takes place around a rock band, a rap artist, an opera, a symphony orchestra or a guy playing the recorder. But I'm not talking about a novel about music.
I mean, a musical novel.
Turner Classic Movies was playing the 1955 film version of Guys and Dolls (Marlon Brando's greatest musical) yesterday, and it led me to think what a sweet, soft life those musical book writers have. (I am saying this after the death of Arthur Laurents, one of the greatest of all book writers for musicals, because even well into his 90s, he probably would have come to my house and beaten me up if he'd read that.) Honestly: You say, the character looks pensive and walks to the curtain of the stage.
And then somebody else comes in and writes the music and lyrics that will send theatergoers home happy, properly expressing the emotions going through the character's mind, touching the heart, tickling the funny bone, breaking the heart, or doing damage to some other area of the body that music can reach.
Music is visceral, sometimes inexplicable,but often extremely effective in the expression of emotion. It touches us in ways we don't even notice, or can't explain. I can think of one song--not even a good one--that I was actually afraid of at one point, because it just struck a note (you should pardon the expression) of sadness or nostalgia or something that got to my core. I couldn't tell you why, but I'd put that song on and then I'd brace myself. Why I didn't put the damn CD away and never play it again is beyond my own comprehension.
So why not do that in a novel?
I've thought about it. I'd write the scene, get my character to some emotional breaking point, and then call up a songwriter and a lyricist and say, "here's the situation. Call me when you have something." Then I could go have a soda and maybe check on the baseball scores while the other person (or people) sweated out the problem.
Better yet--have them resolve those sticky plot issues! Right now I'm going through the editor's notes in OLD HAUNTS, the upcoming (next February--get your tickets early) third novel in E.J. Copperman's Haunted Guesthouse series. The edits aren't horribly difficult this time; I might actually have learned something about plotting after all these years, it seems--but there's one question, a fairly important one, that I haven't solved yet.
Wouldn't it be cool if I could just call up, say, Kander and Ebb and say, "okay, fellas, get to it!"? Okay, maybe those guys would be busy. Let's say A.J. Croce for the songs, or Susan Werner. (Wish I could call Phoebe Snow, but alas...) They already have music on their side, and I'm a lousy acoustic guitarist who won't play when anyone's actually listening. Let them worry over this one!
I hear the protests, though: "How could you hear the music in a book?" "Without a score, that's just poetry, isn't it?" "You lazy slob--do it yourself!" (That's either from my editor or from musicians everywhere.) And my answer is:
Hey. If theater guys don't have to do it, why do I? They're getting paid way more than I am.
Just not Bono and the Edge. I hear they're busy.
