Some people object to mystery novels because they are formulaic. The plot follows a predictable pattern, and the characters, while changing from one author to the next, come from a common stock. Others like mysteries for some of the same reasons. They like the familiarity of the pattern, because, like with blues songs, it’s what the artist does with the formula that excites them. They are interested in who the accidental sleuth will be, what setting will enliven the investigative trail and what types of twists and turns will get us, finally, back to the beginning, where the murderer was all along.

With the publication this year of Death and the Maiden, his third novel featuring amateur detective Daniel Jacobus, author Gerald Elias has created a bona fide mystery series, and he has begun to do for the classical music world what Iaian Pears did for the art historical world. Elias, a violinist who has served as Associate Concertmaster at the Utah Symphony and a long-time professor of music at the University of Utah, turned to writing during a recent sabbatical, and in 2009 published his first book, Devil’s Trill . The novel introduced the world to Daniel Jacobus, the blind and curmudgeonly violinist turned pedagogue whose desire to increasingly withdraw from the modern music world he disdains is thwarted when he is accused of stealing a famous violin and murdering a rival teacher. To clear himself he must find the real villains.

The second novel in the Daniel Jacobus series, Danse Macabre , is a finalist this year — with Craig Lancaster’s The Summer Son and Jacob Paul’s Sarah/Sara — for the Utah Book Award. It would be surprising if a work of genre fiction were to beat out the more contemplative, literary works, but in Danse Macabre Elias has created a solid mystery novel and brought his knowledge of the classical music world to liven up a known formula.

When famed violinist and beloved humanitarian René Allard is found murdered outside his apartment door on the night of his final concert, the case seems easily solved when an eyewitness reports that she saw BTower, the violinist’s estranged protegé, stooping over his bloody body. Our protagonist Jacobus, a great admirer of Allard, is happy to testify against BTower, someone he likes neither as a person nor, because of his crossover antics on stage, as a musician.

The novel would have been very short if the story ended there. The week before BTower’s execution, the condemned man’s lawyer convinces Jacobus to help him look into the murder, convincing the unwilling detective by reminding him that he was also once wrongly accused. Bumping around creaky elevators, creeping through subway tunnels and surviving a poisoning attempt, the blind Jacobus uses his heightened four senses and keen analytical mind to unravel the mystery, confronting the murderer in a climactic scene that puts his own life in danger. Along the way he delves into some of the less seemly aspects of the cultured music world, and learns his dearly departed friend Allard was not as good a man as he was a musician.

Throughout Danse Macabre Elias weaves his knowledge of the classical music repertoire, shifts in modern performances and the nuances of musical technique. It is knowledge that is both culturally interesting and crucial to solving the mystery, so both mystery lovers and music lovers will appreciate the unique talents Elias brings to the novel.

Locals may also enjoy the novel’s detour to Utah, an excursion that is unnecessary for the plot but which allows Elias to make comments on his adopted state. Following a lead, Jacobus comes to Utah very briefly, but long enough for the author to poke fun at Utah’s liquor laws, point out the nuances of its local dialect, and place a couple of plugs for the local culture community – including the fictional but alluring idea of an Antelope Island Music Festival.

Danse Macabre will not make believers of the skeptics hoping to find literary greatness in genre fiction. Elias’ pitch is not always perfect. He is not an excellent stylist, and at times his dialogue can seem off key, and his characters two-dimensional. Yet he makes up for his weaknesses with his musical strengths. You could even say he is like the crossover artists his Daniel Jacobus complains about. What he lacks in literary style, he makes up for with his flashes of detailed knowledge of the classical music world. So, Danse Macabre will delight mystery lovers with its knowledge of music subculture and may draw music lovers into a new literary genre.

Tony Watson

Tony Watson is originally from Washington State but has lived most of his adult life in Utah. No one occupation has occupied his working hours but his leisure hours are spent either climbing southern Utah’s redrock country or engaging his mind with aesthetic issues.