Bel Canto

Sometimes, I wish I was more willing to put down a book without finishing it. But then there are those times where I am so unbelievably glad that I stuck through a few slow parts to get to a "can't put this down" ending. More than often I find the latter to be the case, which just reinforces my unwillingness to put down an unfinished book.

Bel Canto did just that. The build-up to the actual story was almost painfully slow. Character after character was getting developed, backgrounds and scenes were being set, and all the while I'm drudgingly turning the pages. Because as much as I enjoy a well-developed plot and story, I also need to have me some action or something to keep my attention. Well, sure enough, all of the character development was not for naught, and everything came rapidly spiraling together in the last hundred and fifty pages or so. The ending was nothing short of remarkable (but painfully realistic), and I'm sure I even missed some details because my eyes kept wanting to jump a paragraph or a page ahead to find out how the whole business was going to be settled. In fact, I'm actually tempted to read this book again just because I know that now I'll likely take more out of the development that occurs in the earlier parts of the book.

In Italian, "bel canto" means beautiful singing, and this book is great for anyone craving either of those words in their lives. It is full of beauty and magic and exploration of what the human heart will do when circumstances are nothing short of extraordinary. And, most of all, it is full of song and the power that music (and its beauty) can have over one's life.