A sweet little book. I bought it knowing it would be a quick and light read, to accompany a cappuccino while waiting - and that is exactly what it is. It is humorous and gentle. Max is a famous concert pianist, alcoholic and virgin who dies suddenly. He wakes up in a hospital-like institution and it becomes clear fairly quickly that he is in a sort of purgatory, waiting until his fate, heaven or hell, is determined by unseen powers. He then is sent to the "urban zone", a representation of his former home town, Paris, with a handful of rules and regulations. The novel is entertaining to read, nothing too clever, good for bath time or similar, nothing that drags you in or stays with you for very long, but sometimes you need just such a book. ( )

Piano is a quirky but humorous short novel about a renowned concert pianist, beset by alcoholism and stage fright, who dies suddenly at the height of his career. He finds himself in a purgatory that resembles a luxury hotel that is staffed by celebrities. He soon learns his fate, and he is sent to the "urban zone", a Sartrean representation of his former Parisian arrondissement, where he is forbidden to resume his former life or contact anyone he previously knew. The action in Piano drags in a couple of spots, but otherwise it was an entertaining and interesting read. ( )

Oh god! His hundreds of uses of the "former and latter"... I got so sick of it! "Bernie and Max walked along, the former happy, the latter sad", or some such rot. Over and over. "Former and latter"! Ugh!

And his tiresome DETAILS of EVERYTHING! His detailed lists of objects! He had to display his intimate knowledge of rickshaws (show-off!).

Here is a perfect example of TOO MANY details: He is describing waiters.

"The service was supervised by a headwaiter wearing a black tuxedo, starched shirt with wing collar, black bow tie and white waistcoat, black socks, and matte black shoes with rubber heels. He was assisted by front waiters in black evening coats, waistcoats, and trousers, starched shirts with wing collars, black bow ties, black socks, and matte black shoes with rubber heels. These latter oversaw a brigade of second waiters in white checkered spencer jackets, buttoned-up black vests, black trousers, starched white shirts with wing collars, white bow ties, black socks, and matte black shoes with rubber heels. As for the sommeliers who constantly verified the levels in each glass, they wore black tailcoats, vests, and trousers, starched white shirts with wing collars, black bow ties, and aprons of heavy black cloth with patch pockets and leather strings; an insignia depicting a gilded bunch of grapes was pinned to the left lapel of the tailcoat." ..."the restaurant manager was wearing a jacket and vest of gray fabric with black flecks, a starched white shirt and collar, a gray tie, striped trousers, black socks, black shoes, and impeccably silver hair."

Arrrrggghhh!

There is a point when one is creatively describing a scene and one is boringly showing off, and Echenov is most decidedly doing THE LATTER! ( )

Chris Reid, Time Out, quoted on the back of the dustjacket, says "Reading Echenoz's latest novel is like walking across a particularly elegant suspension bridge: confidence in the meticulous engineering does not dispel the vertiginous thrill of perceived fragility". Personally I thought it was pretty average.