The Piano Tuner by Chiang-Sheng Kuo

Author:Chiang-Sheng Kuo
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781956763607
Publisher: Arcade
Published: 2023-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

An established shop located in the old section of the city’s West Gate area, it had been in business for fifty years and was much more appealing to me than the faddish, artiste boutiques shaped by famous interior designers. In a space like that, a young man trying hard to act like an artist was a common sight.

You could tell it was a dancer by the long scarf, the loose cotton-linen pants, and the frosty look. An actor, on the other hand, would be intentionally understated, dressed in old jeans and sneakers, appearing to be in a hurry, but not so rushed as to ignore the gazes around them.

Then there were the young women who looked older than their age because of the high heels and chignons, or young men dressed all in black, though apparently without gang connections. If they were holding a bouquet of flowers, they had to be members of a chorus or a chamber music group, for that was the standard post-performance look.

Luckily, they did not normally show up at my favorite old shop.

It was in an ancient building, a relic from the Japanese colonial era, with steep, narrow stairs and no landing. After reaching the third floor, I opened the door and turned to see the surprised look on Lin san’s face, just as I’d expected.

An accidental shopper could not possibly tell, at first glance, what kind of place this was. The walls were lined, from top to bottom, with glass-fronted wooden drawers; each drawer was custom made, long and thin, the exact size for opened sheet music. Each musical note waited quietly in its drawer.

It was like a sutra storage in a temple or a medical lab with a long history. What was stored in the tiny compartments, it would seem, was not sheet music, but the DNA of celebrated composers. Each folio was stored and retrieved by human hands. When one of the flat drawers was pulled out, you could see and smell the wood grain, as well as the paper pulp unique to printed musical notes. Here you would not find bound volumes of sheet music, only loose leaves. Everyone was careful when pulling out the drawers, afraid of creasing, damaging, or dirtying the pages.

Lin san circled the shop quietly and stopped behind me at some point to watch me retrieve sheets of Schubert’s music.

“So, where will you practice these once I sell the Steinway?” he said softly after a while.

At that moment I thought he’d made up his mind, but I also detected something else.

Actually, I’d already found a solution for the music studio.

I forced myself to say nothing, not wanting to overstep my status as a tuner. I thought I’d be different from all those other people in his life and did not want him to misunderstand me. In fact, I was just like them, unable to be content with our brief encounter without further expectations.

Something must have happened at that moment, for I recall that I croaked out a response once I’d regained my composure.

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