"Tenderwire," the second novel from the new, highly-literate young Irish writer Claire Kilroy, recently released, comes bearing rave reviews from prestigious publications, and comparisons to such superb mystery novelists as Ruth Rendell and Patricia Highsmith. (Her debut novel
All Summer was awarded the 2004 Rooney Prize for Irish Literature.) Kilroy, who was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and now resides in that city, has chosen to set this crime drama in New York.
The writer has, for sure, created a woman's book. Her protagonist, Eva Tyne, is a young Irish violinist who's living and working in a musical New York. Soon after her solo debut, her life takes various odd and raucous turns; among other happenings she meets a man in a bar, Alexander, who claims to be Chechen, and to have available for sale a Stradivarius, a rare, historic violin, cheap. The book's not really a mystery, nor a thriller, but it has elements of both that aid its already quick-moving action to unspool even faster.
Kilroy has a unique, sharp-tongued voice. Her story is highly entertaining, also highly engaging. Her descriptions of New York, and particularly of the Lower East Side days and nights lived there by ambitious young women come from far places to establish themselves, are closely observed. Early on she tells us:" The neon thermometer across the street read 22F. That city was always issuing its inhabitants with status reports. It liked to keep you informed of how it was getting on, to make you feel part of the whole thing, make you feel like a New Yorker. The success of the endeavour depended on participation. If you didn't feel part of it, you couldn't tolerate it anymore."
The author's no slouch at setting her Irish scenes, either: the constantly changing cloud formations and threatening sea. Furthermore, she appears to have done a great deal of research about music, particularly Shostakovich's and Vivaldi's, and the playing of it. The instruments it's played on; the sorts of people who play them. Her supporting characters are vivid and sharply drawn. Eva, her mouthpiece, is grippingly unstable, a compellingly temperamental sort, as moody as the Irish weather, going from crippling stage fright to tears, to rage, to throwing-up drunk within the space of a day. All of it handled with psychological astuteness by the author, who yet, still, leaves a bit of mystery enveloping her story until its end.