Interview with Aaron Lazar | Sound Authors Radio

November 5, 2008

Dr. Kent: Welcome back to Sound Authors. Today is Friday the 13^th of June. It’s not a really spooky day but we have a special guest on the show who’s an author of mystery stories so that’s fitting. The book is called Tremolo; Cry of the Loon and the author is Aaron Paul Lazar. Welcome to the show.

Aaron Lazar: Thank you Dr. Kent, it’s a pleasure to be here.

Dr. Kent: Did I pronounce your name correctly?

Aaron Lazar: You did!

Dr. Kent: Tell me a little bit about Gus Legarde.

Aaron Lazar: Gus Legarde is the main character of the Legarde Mysteries obviously. He’s a music professor who lives in the country in a great big home with a daughter, grandson, dog, and cat. He loves spend time with his family and when the series first started with Double Forte, he was an adult. But in the book we’re talking about today, which has just been released; Tremolo, Cry of the Loon, it’s a prequel to Double Forte and Gus is eleven years old in this book.

Dr. Kent: Part of the book I mean, the shaping glance if you will, the Cry of the Loon and so many of us know that sound from our childhoods. I grew up in Minnesota so I know the call well and I’m lucky that out here on the New York coast I can also hear the loons. Talk a little bit about why Tremolo, Cry of the Loons?

Aaron Lazar: When I grew up in my grandparents’ camp during the summertime, I loved that sound. It was too me it was so beautiful that it just represented my entire childhood really. I was surprised when I looked up a little information about it now looking back as an adult that the Tremolo is actually a distress call and that loons will make this interesting sound that wafts over the water but they’ll do it when a human comes near their nest or when they’re troubled.

So it sort of fits because Tremolo where Gus Legarde first brushes against danger in his young life. He also has his first crush and he has to dig down really deep to find courage to face the adversity that he’s faced with. All the trouble that goes on in the book, I though Tremolo is sort of an appropriate title for this situation.

Dr. Kent: So we can of course go on the web to all of your books. There’s a whole bunch of books and they’re all if I’m correct, all based on some kind of sound title; musical title, obviously your main character is a musician so that’s wonderful. The website is legardemysteries.com.

Aaron Lazar: Exactly.

Dr. Kent: Why don’t you tell us a little bit about the book itself? You’ve already told us a little about the main character, tell us more.

Aaron Lazar: Okay; well it’s a coming of age mystery set in the Belgrade mists of Maine and young Gus sees a girl being chased through the foggy Maine woods. She’s scared, she’s hurt and she disappears. Basically it’s a histological trip back to the summer of 1964 when Gus faces his deepest fears while solving the mystery. I do have an excerpt from chapter 2 that I’d love to read to you if you’re interested.

Dr. Kent: Go ahead, I was about to ask you.

Aaron Lazar: This scene starts when Gus Legarde and his two friends have just sunk their rowboat and they’re treading water.

Chapter 2 (a reading).

The fog condensed and settled in for the night – impenetrable. Our parents’ faces warbled through the mists as we drifted away. The lake water grew warmer than the air. We reconnected our grip beneath the cushions, looping through the handles grasping each others cold, wrinkled fingers. Iris began to weep, her breath hitching with each sob. “Don’t cry,” I said. “It’ll just make you tired. You’ve got to save your strength.” I could barely see the outline of her head in the darkness. She sniffled and nodded. “Okay, I’ll try,” whispering with a firm voice. “You must be strong. As long as we’re together we’ll be okay.” “Yeah,” she said, splashing her hands beneath the water. The hours passed and we struggled to avoid sleep, singing I want to hold your hand, can’t buy me love, and please, please me, until our throats grew sore. The camp had blasted those songs for the last few weeks; we knew them by heart. The trees billowed in the wind punctuating our bizarre watery world with lost love and youthful yearning. My voice rasped as we sang, becoming weaker. I laid my head on the cushion, adjusting to the cold. My eyes as we sang a hard day’s night. A faint sound of splashing washed in rhythm with our voices. I raised my head from the cushion. The soft of water lapped the shore nearby. I squeezed the twins’ hands. “Which way was it?” was whispered. I pointed towards the noise. “It’s over there, come on!” We paddled toward the welcome sound. When our feet touched soft, sandy bottom we headed to shore landing on a bolder hidden under the canopy of white birches. “Where are the cabins?” Elizabeth asked. A strange scene of pitch black, no lights shown through the fog. No smell of grilled burgers wafted on the air and no sounds of scampering children met our ears. I sputtered with frustration at the chorus of crickets and peepers. We’re probably on the west end; we’ll have to walk a ways to find someone. Come on.” We picked our way along the narrow shore trail occasionally stepping over fallen trees. When we had walked in the fog for about 20 minutes we paused to catch our breath. Shivering, we stood there where pine needles had softened the earth. A flashlight glimmered on the trail ahead. Someone skittered forward racing away from the light. A wisp of a girl with long blonde hair came toward us. The light bobbed as its owner approached. “John,” a mans voice roared, “Sharon, where are you?” The girl nearly collided as we ran; staring with huge eyes she covered a trickle of blood in the corner of her mouth. She trembled and breathed hard, silhouetted by the eerie glow of the light clutching her torn blouse where two buttons were missing. Her palpable terror raised goosebumps on my arms. Before I could speak she panicked and hopped off the trail into the woods. A flicker of fear passed through me. Sensing the danger I pulled us into the woods, just before the man lurched past, the stench of whisky and sweat filled the air. He thundered on the trail bellowing like a man on fire. “Sharon, where are you?” Sharon had disappeared.