J.D. Landis knows how to spin an interesting narrative with the threads of historical fact. He uses what is known and doesn't seem daunted by it when it comes to fictionalizing the past. This makes for a dense read, punctuated by moments of apt and dazzling metaphor or wry, erudite humour. I definitely enjoyed Longing, but I found it ultimately (inevitably) tragic. What can one do when the protagonist increasingly loses touch with reality and, even more importantly, the loved ones who inhabit that reality. Such was the case with Robert Schumann.

The narrative follows Schumann, but we see a bit of Clara's perspective as well since Landis employs an omniscient approach. Of course, since Landis intended (or so it seems) to stick to history as much as possible and fictionalize within that framework, that limits the liberties he was able to take. Thus the novel reads rather like a lively bio. But a well-written, lively bio.

For example, this tidbit from the scene between a visiting Chopin and a Clara-less Robert: "Once you have given your love to someone, Robert had discovered, and that love is thwarted, you become lost not only to your beloved but also to yourself. Every gesture, every breath, every written word, every inked-in note of music is an attempt to remain alive in a world from which you have felt yourself begin to disappear. Chopin's presence at his door, before he could possibly have received the letter, was for Robert evidence, however fragile, that he had not wholly lost his power to ruffle the universe."