The Schubert treatment A story of music and healing

Oppert, a classical cellist and art therapist, debuts with a luminous ode to the "mysterious ways music... moves" patients with such conditions as dementia and autism. The author, who inherited a love of music from her doctor father, took up the cello at eight and "fell for the instrument as violently and suddenly as a lightning strike." Following the first concert she ever played, at age 14, a listener told her, "If you were a doctor, you would have healed me." After being trained as an art therapist, Oppert played a Schubert andante in a dementia ward as a "spontaneous experiment" and found that the music relaxed patients. That experience set the stage for what came to be known as the "Schubert treatment," in which live music serves as "sensory counter-stimulation" during painful procedures, decreasing patient pain and anxiety, and improving caregivers' moods. In a narrative interwoven with evocative vignettes of patient experiences ("For a few moments, there is no pain. She can't say it in words, but her entire body announces it"), Oppert gracefully conveys both the power and mystery of music's ability to serve as "a bulwark against absurdity, disease, and death, to try to reach the thing that lies beneath." Assured and lyrical, this impresses. (Oct.)

Music therapy is opening a new frontier in medical treatment, avers this classical cellist and art therapist. The idea that "music has charms to soothe a savage breast" (first voiced by playwright William Congreve in 1697) is the principle behind this touching, lyrical book. After working in the field of art therapy for 20 years, Oppert has collected stories, ably translated from French by Grubisic, of the people she has treated. They range from patients with severe autism to those suffering from neurodegenerative diseases, including dementia. In many cases there were dramatic changes, with violently autistic patients becoming more placid and catatonic patients becoming interactive. Some of the most moving stories are about people with chronic pain, who found a measure of peace and relief. Finding the right piece of music for each patient was often difficult, says Oppert, but always worth the effort. The therapy is coordinated with treatment from medical specialists, and Oppert notes that she is also involved in clinical research on music as a means to reduce pain, anxiety, and stress. Strangely, recorded music does not seem to have the same effect as in-person performances, and the cello seems to be the best instrument for the therapy. Although Oppert admits that she does not fully understand how the process works, she has no doubt about its value. Along the way, she offers her reflections about the meaning of art and the need for human connection. "Music is a redeeming interruption that calls forth something from deep within us, unchanged and radiant," she concludes. "It shines in us, between us, through us.…It holds life aloft." Compassionate, intriguing, often uplifting vignettes delivered in crystalline prose. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.