I begin this blog with sad news. Waterstones in London Euston Station has now closed. I sorely miss wasting my time sniffing fresh pages and using the train journey as an excuse to add another book to my shelf. I bought this novella from the station and it was so delicious that I read it all in one go. Some may say it was smooth bodied, with an oaky finish – just kidding, we’re not doing that here.

This book is made of beautiful, heart-wrenching, romantic melancholia and, especially if read with no breaks, will spin you into an existential crisis. The theme grapples with life, death, love and rebirth. It is quite a difficult feat to address all of that in such a small word count, and yet nothing is lacking in depth.

The Gentleman from Peru himself is a mysterious, Gatsby-esque character, and I found myself ripping through the pages to figure out just who this man is. Much like Fitzgerald, Andre Aciman drips some stunning prose throughout, just enough to inspire wonder, but not enough to drag you out of the story. 

Having read through a two-hour train journey and a thirty-minute bus ride, I finished this book and sat quietly in my room, not knowing what to do with myself and questioning the meaning of life. How was I supposed to enter back into the real world after that? 

That’s when I opened Spotify, looking for something to guide me through the comedown, and there was Tamino. 

If reincarnation is the theme, Tamino could have been Jeff Buckley in a past life. The same depth of craft is there, with haunting melodies, impressive vocal range and thought-provoking lyrics. I started with Indigo Night and then let his repertoire echo out on shuffle. 

I had the joy of seeing Tamino play live a year or so after that day, and the show was just as entrancing as this book. Whatever energy Aciman is tapping into, Tamino is definitely accessing the same source.

If they make The Gentleman from Peru into a film, I hope Tamino is on the soundtrack.