This was another one of our favorite authors with our Library Book Discussion group. I am now bringing my review to Goodreads.

Did you know that this book was actually based on a true story?

Set in South America, readers find themselves in a large room filled with mostly affluent bureaucrats and CEO’s that are suddenly taken hostage by terrorists during a beautiful soprano opera performance by the book’s female lead, Roxanne Coss.

The story remains in that same setting, and the hostages are held captive for over 4 months. So what was intended to be just hours, turned into days and then months of standoff.

And... Patchett shows readers exactly how universal humanity is...

Our cares, our fears, our talents, our values, our love.

Where what once was terrorists vs hostages now blurs and becomes a giant group of humans, together.

Are we now seeing friendships forming? Maybe even romance?

Or…Are we experiencing Stockholm Syndrome? (feelings of trust or affection felt in many cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim toward a captor.)

Are the hostages learning to adjust to this new normal – finding ways to appreciate their spouses better?

And the terrorists – some were teenagers with minds and talents – being used in this heartless way – could we humanize them?

And then there is Roxanne Coss.

Her voice and her music touches everybody. There is something magical and lyrical about her voice that seems to calm everyone.

The beautiful, tender, lyrical language. The character development.

And then…What was the point of that epilogue? Everything was going so well until then. Is that really how you are going to end this? I’m not sure I could accept it.

High 4*

I'm patting myself on the back for trying this audiobook again. The first time around, I just couldn't get into it - I put it down to not being in the right mood, although it was puzzling as I adore Opera and I'm keen on Latin anything and I had enjoyed Patchett's writing before.

For what it's worth, I wasn't as enchanted with Anna Fields' delivery. I hope this audiobook is reissued, with a better production - I mean you have opera, you have all kind of languages, bullets - it could be an enhanced experience. Whenever a certain aria was mentioned, I found myself singing it, although it hurt my own ears, it's torture for those who hear me. I did get used to the narrator, as one does. As the novel progressed and we got to know some of the characters, I was completely taken with the story. I could easily picture the location, the characters, their interactions. I know this has been made into a movie and I'm kind of desperate to get my hands on it, see what they've done with it.

So what is this about?
In an unidentified Latin American country, a group of insurgents assail the vice-president's house where a big party was taking place. They were hoping to kidnap the president, who was absent, therefore they find themselves in a situation they didn't prepare for. After releasing the women, the kids and the workers, the insurgents and the fifty-nine others are locked up inside a beautiful mansion while the police were waiting outside. The inhabitants are people from many parts of the world: Japanese, Italians, Germans, Russians, locals, and the renowned American soprano, Roxanne Coss.

My favourite characters were the Japanese men: a rich businessman, who's obsessed with opera, Katsumi Hosokawa, and his interpreter, Gen Watanabe. They were classy, dignified and very intelligent.

I appreciated that Patchett chose to portray most of the terrorists as more than just jungle rats.
To have even the most uneducated brought to their knees by the power of opera was music to my ears and heart.

As it's been established, Patchett writes characters incredibly well. She's at her best in this novel.
Bel Canto is probably my favourite of hers, so far anyway.

This was an awful story.

I loved the Dutch House, which I am now beginning to feel was entirely because of Tom Hanks' narration. Next I read State of Wonder which was an ordinary experience and now this - Bel Canto which was a real chore.

The characters were paper thin, unrealistic and not well developed at all. What made this experience particularly difficult was the impossibly unreal storyline.

Stockholm Syndrome love, inter hostage relationships, combined with chess, music lessons, concerts and outside ball games. This all created a trifle of far fetched, terribly written nonsense. Served up with lashings of over sentimentality.

About halfway through I realised this was going to be an unforgettable experience. It was.

1 Star

Men of great importance were held hostage with a soprano. Until they realized how trivial their existences have been to the world and the world's to them. Men of different countries, men of different taste and language shut their eyes to the same beauty. Terrorists with gun earned sympathy worshipping that beauty only. A priest found his God next to him.

Bel Canto embodies art itself. The book celebrates the love for what is beyond and what is incomparably greater. Our deaths don't define us, neither our birth places. It is always the things we seek. And Ben Canto beautifully explores that.

I wanted to write a book that would be like an opera in its structure, its grandeur, its musicality, its melodrama.

Anne Patchette's carefully woven tale moves from one being to another within a room. And for a confined story such as this, she gives life to a soaring voice. Drawing no line for herself, the abundance of well crafted words and flow of noble emotions in this savage plot, can get overwhelmingly on one's nerves which may as well explain the mixed reaction.

In Bel Canto best human qualities blossom and present the philosophical problem that comes with the idea of every ideal society. With all the contradictions coming from a single room, there's no doubt the room wouldn't stand when the time comes.

A wonderful read where the setting is an ongoing hostage situation in the Vice President’s mansion. The country is vague, somewhere in South America. This book reminded me of Ian McEwan’s amazing but dark novel Saturday where the setting is also a hostage situation. I enjoyed Bel Canto more, it is less of a thriller but more spellbinding.

I am drawn to novels where death is not used as the plot crutch. Rather in Bel Canto it is the act of observing how the characters act out their lives with the omnipresent threat of death. The plot in this book is not realistic and the author does not make any pretenses that it is. However the international cast of characters are all well drawn and it is rare that I find a novel where all of the characters are interesting. I think that is what made Bel Canto so enjoyable for me.

One of my favourite shows is Buffy the Vampire Slayer (I could get into why, but then we’d be here all day). One of the villains in the second season is a vampire named Spike. He’s a cold and ruthless antagonist, but then in season four he gets metaphorically declawed. With a chip in his head that causes him intense pain if he harms humans, Spike is neutralized as a threat. He spends a good deal of that season tied up in Xander’s basement. It becomes a running joke, in fact, how harmless he is, and gradually Spike transforms from villain to non-entity to ally. It’s one of the many subtle, long-term arcs that contribute to Buffy’s greatness.

The hostage situation in Bel Canto reminds me of this subtle transformation. It lasts a matter of months, but in those months Ann Patchett manages to make one care about a dizzying array of characters, hostages and terrorists alike. This is a beautiful book. The prose is lyrical without feeling like it’s overdone. At first the emphasis on description over dialogue annoyed me, but I gradually allowed myself to become seduced by the way Patchett would dip in and out of each character’s thoughts, sharing along the way some of their background story.

The multiplicity of these stories is key to Bel Canto and its ensemble cast. Although Patchett focuses on a small core of characters, even her most minor characters have a detailed, comprehensive backstory that provides their motivation. None of Patchett’s characters are stock, because she can always justify who they are. Normally this would be overwhelming, but the timeless, ambling quality of the narrative allow Patchett this type of freedom in her characterization.

See, Bel Canto exists in that fringe space of absurd that straddles reality and fiction. On the one hand, it seems so implausible that a group of terrorists this incompetent could show up at a party to kidnap a president who isn’t there and wind up babysitting hostages for four months. On the other hand, situations this long have happened before. In this case, however, the combination of the terrorists’ abject failure to get what they want and the duration of the standoff contributes to a kind of mutual Stockholm syndrome. While the distinction between terrorist and hostage never disappears, the barriers to civility do, and gradually the Vice President’s house becomes a kind of community of unhappy circumstance.

It’s a bit like a lab experiment. Patchett puts these people under the microscope in a controlled environment and watches them react. Because all of the characters have different ways of coping with their isolation, with the separation from their loved ones, with the sense of dread accompanying the knowledge that this can’t go on forever. Indeed, like many once-in-a-lifetime events, the standoff is a cathartic and life-changing experience for those involved. Mr. Hosokawa enters the house as a lover of opera—it is his passion to the exclusion of almost all other pleasures, including those of his family, who perplex and bewilder him more than they do provide warmth and companionship. Gen enters as an employee of Mr. Hosokawa, nothing more, but he gradually discovers within himself a capacity and ambition he had not recognized before. Vice President Iglesias undergoes perhaps one of the more interesting transformations, for he decides his role as host continues and begins obsessively tidying the house and cleaning up after people. In a situation where he is powerless to change their circumstances, he seizes upon what little power he has to make things better.

Strangely enough, however, Patchett captures the nature of this transformation best when describing a fairly minor character. Tetsuya Kato is one of Mr. Hosokowa’s corporate vice presidents and accompanied him to the party. When Roxanne Coss decides she must begin practising again, we learn that Kato can play the piano—he can, in fact, play it beautifully. At first this revelation is a convenient plot point and emphasizes one of the book’s themes, which is that people are full of surprises and have all these hidden talents we don’t know about because we don’t necessarily ask. But there’s something deeper going on here, and I’ll quote from the only paragraph I bothered sticky-noting in this book:

They spoke to one another by handing leaves of music back and forth. While their relationship was by no means a democracy, Kato, who read the music the priest’s friend had sent while lying on the pile of coats he slept on at night, would sometimes pick out pieces he wanted to hear or pieces that he felt would be well suited to Roxanne’s voice. He made what he felt to be wild presumptions in handing over his suggestions, but what did it matter? He was a vice president in a giant corporation, a numbers man, suddenly elevated to be the accompanist. He was not himself. He was no one he had ever imagined.

That last line really resonates with me. Hosokawa, Gen, Iglesias, Kato … the hostage situation prompts a profound crisis of identity in these people, and they find themselves not just stepping from their comfort zone but leaving it behind entirely. But Patchett makes it happen so fluidly and so beautifully that it feels natural.

I’m not a fan of opera. It’s not that I dislike opera; I just haven’t listened to it that much. I have enough trouble deciphering song lyrics I know are in English…. Anyway. I know for some people, Patchett’s decision to use opera as a metaphorical way to unify the story detracted from their enjoyment of it. Fair enough. However, Patchett is doing more than talking about opera. That’s how it starts, but pretty soon the metaphor extends into music in general. Patchett reifies the spiritual reverence we as humans accord to the experience of music. When Roxanne sings, she literally stops the terrorists in their tracks, momentarily making them hostages to her voice. I may not have listened to much opera, but I understand the power of the human voice. It’s in the orator whose speech sways the crowds not just because of the words but the way they’re spoken. I love just sitting in my reading chair late at night, a cup of tea by my side, with the haunting vocals of someone like Florence + The Machine as company. In a medium with no sound, Patchett harnesses something primal about our sense of hearing and asks one to listen.

In case it’s not clear, I’ve fallen for Bel Canto. It’s beautiful as a work of literature. It’s beautiful as a reading experience. I’ve fallen for it so hard that it’s difficult for me to evaluate it critically, because honestly, I just want to close my eyes and bask in Patchett’s luxurious narration of everyone’s thoughts and desires.

And then there’s the ending.

It’s not a stretch to say I felt betrayed by the ending, at least in the first few seconds of seeing the scene play out on the page. To be fair, Patchett foreshadows the hell out of this thing, reminding us that despite what some of the characters might hope, nothing can last forever. Except that, thanks to the way Patchett writes, this situation seems like it could defy such a truism. The story has a quality of timelessness to it. Yet something, as they say, has to give. I understand that, but I was so invested in these characters that I wanted them to get out alive. Not all of them, mind you—I didn’t care what happened to the Generals, not even Benjamin. But to see Hosokawa and Carmen brutally cut down like that … that hurt. I wanted a happy ending for Carmen and Gen so badly.

I don’t feel cheated though. As I said, the ending makes sense given the story Patchett has written. The characters who survive are changed, their paths in life altered, even warped unrecognizably by their experience. They have a new perspective on what it means to live. Fortunately, I don’t have to endure four months of being hostage for such transformation, or even a few weeks in Xander’s basement … I just have to read books like Bel Canto.

n  n

2023 re read: I found this immediately captivating, this time around, and I think appreciate the bubble crafted, far more. I think it very neatly shows off social constructs, humanities ability to adapt, and what parts of our world we internalize and perpetuate, even in absurd circumstances. All while being very empathetic toward a cast of people moving toward a rude intrusion of outside forces.

It took a while for this book to click with me. I had it in mind that it would be a weird thriller, or something. But I’m not sure what I’d describe it as. Thematically it is perfect. The character work is top notch. It’s poignant and sad and a reflection of societal problems that brilliantly reflect the reason for the event to even happen in the first place. You see it coming and you’re still shot right through at the end. Brilliant stuff.

To me, this book is luminous. Glorious. Magnificent. Perfect. (Well, almost perfect. I'll explain in a moment.)

I first read "Bel Canto" in 2005, and I was so absorbed in the story that I would sneak away from my desk at work just to have a few precious moments with it. The story opens with a renowned opera singer, Roxanne Coss, giving a private performance at the home of a vice president of an unnamed South American country. Several people in the room are already in love with her, and others will fall in love with the sound of her voice.

The moment she's done singing, the room is stormed by guerrilla fighters, and everyone in the home is taken hostage. What follows is a fascinating look at what happens when a group of strangers are forced to live together for weeks. The fighters make demands, a poor Red Cross volunteer acts as intermediary with officers outside, and meanwhile, everyone inside the house tries to get along, despite numerous language barriers.

Which brings me to one of my favorite characters, the translator Gen. Without Gen, the entire story could not have happened, because he was the one who helped people communicate. Gen is constantly in demand, translating from English to Spanish to Russian to Japanese and back to English again.

There are some surprising and emotional attachments that form -- even Gen falls in love! -- and by the end of the book, I was in tears. My only complaint is with the ending, which I won't spoil, but to say I was devastated is an understatement. But given the scenario, you can't really expect a happy ending, can you?

The characters are beautifully drawn, Ann Patchett's writing is gorgeous, and some of the scenes are so vivid that it would make a wonderful film. I would heartily recommend this book to anyone who loves literary fiction. Brava!

Good, but liked Sense of Wonder better.

When I started this it was my first Ann Patchett book. . . .and could not stay with it. I wandered for months before reining myself in to finish - oddly enough one of the books I strayed to was the author's Dutch House - which I loved!

Her writing is artful, and wrapped around the right story I'm entranced. But Bel Canto didn't do me. Even so, I will continue to add her to my list.

Holy crap! This "1-Dayer" deserves applause & praise indeed as it will surely stay with you like some truly terrific (& best yet, catchy) song for days, for weeks to come.

What happens when terrorists take over a party held in honor of a Japanese businessman at the house of the Vice President of some unknown South American city? A translator is thankfully employed, a Diva is made to sing like a modern Scheherazade. Renaissance flourishes as these individuals in the most insane of circumstances come together to realize the true WORTH of people and the VALUE of themselves. This is what all those characters in Boccaccio did... ! (& anyone reaching the very heights reached by Boccaccio must MUST be extolled!)

This Stockholm Syndrome is comical, sad, romantic. It's written with a less amount of elegance than the cover promises--but that is hardly ever a fault in this book, ripe & so ready to be inscribed into the canon.

This book is an insult to Peru and its history, and to the history of Latin America in general. If I never saw another author "borrowing" elements (or entire events, in this instance) from Latin American peoples, their language, their culture, their history, and proceeding into butchering them into this sort of mindless tripe it'd be too soon.

Don't pick this book up. Instead, take a moment to read about the Túpac Amaru Revolutionary Movement, the actual events during the 1996 Japanese Embassy hostage crisis in Lima, Peru, and the trials that followed the cold-blooded execution of several people during the military hostage rescue operation that took place months later.

EDITED to add a link to Annalisa's review