Warsaw a little while ago

Frédéric Chopin is not the protagonist of this novel, but he is its very soul, appearing as a fleeting presence among others. Joseph, the Jew spared by Nazi death in Poland, inhabits Chopin's house, and Chopin inhabits his soul. Later, this Jew will abandon Warsaw's gift of memory, refusing to belong to a nation united by its own people, who have become executioners. He will end up in Beirut, a distant place, where he settles and builds something akin to a family. A family from which only his grandson will survive. Joseph, whose fingers will once again play, on another land and in another time, the melody of death. This is a novel about a hero in an era where the meaning of heroism has been distorted, and a grandson who inherited the soul of a musician and the tenderness of a victim, torn between two homelands, two identities, and...more than two women. Joseph inherited all the questions from his grandfather. I inherited them from him, just as I inherited them from Beirut and Warsaw.