I’m a big fan of the urban legend website snopes.com (so much so that I’ve got a project in the works about an urban legend or two), and I was scrolling through the What’s New section and found this article, about what happened on a day in January 2007 when world-famous violinist Joshua Bell played in the New York City subway for an hour, incognito.
It was part of an experiment: do people have time for beauty in their daily lives? Do they recognise true art when it’s packaged as a subway busker?
Bell earned $32 in loose change, and the only people who significantly paused to listen to the Bach he was playing on a $3.5 million violin, were children.
As the mother of a toddler, I know this is true. Fecklet loves music of every form, and when he hears someone playing on the street, he stops to listen and sometimes to dance. This is wonderful because it gives me the excuse to stop, too. (I don’t usually dance.) We had a lovely time listening to the Salvation Army bands at Christmas, for example. And I’d like to think, as a creative person myself, I do stop to appreciate beauty whenever I can. But I know that often I’m guilty of hurrying past things of beauty when I’m preoccupied; not just buskers, but a beautiful flower bed, an enchanting sunset, a bunch of ducklings, a splendid building. Sometimes I don’t pay proper attention to conversations with people I care about, or really appreciate well-crafted prose.
I think Bell’s story is profound in this way, that it reminds you to appreciate the beauty around you, because you never know what you may be missing. It’s also profound in that it reminds us that as a culture, we value the most what we’re told to value. The tickets to Bell’s sold-out concert two days before cost $100. I bet those people in the audience appreciated every note.
Context is everything, and packaging can have a significant effect on how something is perceived. I’ve had a small experience in that way myself, with my book All Work and No Play… The beginning of the story is based on mistaken identity, and both my editor and I saw it as a sort of screwball comedy scenario. It’s stupid, but it’s meant to be stupid, a fun game with the reader. 
There are jokes about Clark Kent and Superman, the hero’s best friend talks like he just finished an Excellent Adventure with Bill and Ted, and the story ends with a bit of ironing-board surfing. Dude.
In the UK, it was packaged as a light-hearted romance; the title, the blurb, the cover all said “sexy, fun, playful”. Likewise in France. In both of those places, the reviews have treated the book like a sexy, light read, and have mostly mentioned how fun the story is. For example, this French review uses comedy itself to describe the book.
In the USA, it was called Mistress in Private, and released in the high-drama, high-passion Harlequin Presents line, with a very serious blurb. My American reviews have pretty much said that the mistaken-identity plot is unbelievable, the “mistress” blurb is misleading, and the story is silly rather than dramatic.
I totally accept that my plot was stupid, because I personally couldn’t stop laughing at it, and I have a dumb sense of humour. But I do think that the packaging in the UK and France helped to prompt readers to suspend their disbelief enough to enjoy the story. Not that I’m moaning…Harlequin Presents is the world’s best-selling romance line, and it’s awesome to be part of it. And I’m very far from being a world-class violinist playing on a subway.
But the story gives me two lessons: Stop for beauty. And try to judge things for what they are, not for their context.
Addition: Janet gave me this link to the Washington Post story article where the Bell story originally appeared. It includes video links, too.
Bravo, well said. I’d like to think that you do have a little dance in the street though, LOL, my girl will even dance to a ringing phone.
You’re right, Julie. I used to travel on the tube in London every day and would always stop for a really good busker. It lifts the heart – which is damn necessary sometimes – and reminds me that there is loveliness around even when life is crap. (My story-based-on-a-busker won the Elizabeth Goudge trophy light years ago)
And yes – I feel quite strongly that the blurb on the back of the book ought to reflect the way the book is written. Otherwise it’s ripping off the reader.
Not that I would ever feel ripped off by one of your books (she adds hastily)
Here’s the youtube video of the violinist playing in the subway
http://tinyurl.com/32a32w
LOL Fran, I might tap my feet a bit. I’m not afraid of dancing at home, though…Fecklet and I just had a big boogie to “Video Killed the Radio Star” here in the dining room!
I’ll always give money to a busker who makes me smile, but I’ll admit I don’t always stop. It depends on my mission. I’ll also admit I’m more likely to stop for somebody playing Elvis on an accordion than a world-class violin player, but that’s a personality flaw I’ve learned to live with.
I think buskers are interesting and often attractive figures, so I’m not surprised one appealed to you and the award judges.
The great side of misleading blurb is that some readers may be pleasantly surprised, and I’ve had some very nice emails from readers telling me that. I’m very fortunate to have my books sold and read all over the world and the different packaging is just one aspect of that. Sometimes I wonder what the Japanese and Greek readers think…
Janet, thank you for that link—I’m going to add it to the main post, because the article is so good and the video so telling.