IU music professor and horn maker tries his hand at historical fiction with his 1st novel

His horn students receive this caution: always have a list of Plan B's, because anything can happen.

Richard Seraphinoff teaches horn at Indiana University's Jacobs School of Music, plays the horn and the Baroque flute, makes horns — he is considered the finest horn maker in the world — and, now, writes novels. He has already begun his second; his first, "Corno da Capo: The Life and Adventures of an 18th Century Horn Player" is available on Amazon.com.

Facial surgery changed the way he can play the horn, so he performs less. His Plan B list, however, is packed with so many other horn-related activities that he barely misses his old solos. All of his horn-making is commissioned, and his client-chart bulges with names.

And, now, Seraphinoff's 10 years spent writing his first novel has produced "Corno da Capo," a 480-page story (including end matter) about two actual famous horn players from the 18th century — Johann Palsa and Carl Türrschmidt — plus Beate Pokorny, the only documented female horn player of the 1700s. Mozart's dog Bimprel has a role, too, as does Ben Franklin.

"Pokorny is without a doubt my wife, Celeste Holler-Seraphinoff. Her horn playing, her personality, right down to her glasses," he said.

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"This (may be) the first novel written for natural horn players," Seraphinoff said. Musicians played "natural" horns before the instrument had valves. They consist of a mouthpiece, coiled tubing — the length of which varies the horn's pitch — and a large flared bell. If someone were to stretch out the curved tubing, the sound would be exactly the same as when the coils, or "crooks" are wound.

Crooks are of different lengths, and a player uses the one that will play a particular key. "It's a very primitive system."

The novel, which covers horn making, may seem narrow in its readership, but Seraphinoff wrote it so that anyone musical, and many others in fact, will enjoy it. He even includes disclaimers, such as the title of Chapter 9, advising non-horn folk to just skip this one and move ahead.

But even his detailed descriptions are usually easy for a novice to imagine:

"Jean-Pierre was polishing a horn bell that was clamped to a wooden board held fast in a vice. He was using a flat stick covered with cloth that he dipped from time to time in a pan of pumice and water or maybe some kind of oil, and after that he would rub the surface of the metal with a highly polished steel burnisher to give it its final finish."

Celeste not only helped edit the book but read it to Rick — twice — so they could master the tone, "like real people speaking." Husband and wife work side by side in the studio. Celeste, now retired from horn playing and finance, instead, makes art, as her husband cuts, folds and seams metal to make horns.

"We've found out we like each other better than ever," Rick Seraphinoff said.

The 18th century was important for horn history, and much has changed since. The author shows what life was like for traveling horn soloists. Because of limited data on his subjects, he unleashes his knowledge and imagination.

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"Corno da Capo" uses several genres: time travel, historical fiction, textbook (don't worry; Seraphinoff departs from his usual academia style), fantasy and science fiction. It begins with 21st century horn player John Paulson being run down by a vehicle just as he had finished playing a concert. Paulson awakes, being cared for by a flock of reeking yet kindly folk dressed oddly and suggesting he let the doctor bleed him; lances and bowl are ready.

Recovering and aching, Paulson, now called Johann Palsa, meets Carl Türrschmidt, and the pair end up having a 22-year musical career, both famous soloists. First, however, Palsa has the odious task of explaining to Türrschmidt what has happened. The problem is Palsa doesn't know. A couple of centuries seem to have been lost, so there's that, but Palsa tries to describe his life in 21st century Boston to Türrschmidt, who says, "Oh, you mean the English colonies!"

Historically, no one has known how the real Palsa gained his notoriety. Seraphinoff imagines, here, how it happened. It's an 18th century story told through 21st century eyes.

Seraphinoff has taught at IU since 1986 and teaches in two departments: brass and the Historic Performance Institute (previously called early music).

His adoration of anything horn-or brass-related seems full-blown.

In a normal year, he offers the International Trumpet Making Workshop in Cambridge, England, and Rostock, Germany, in July, and in Bloomington in August. His two colleagues for this event are from Canada and Germany, and each week 10 participants make their own 17th century Baroque trumpet using only tools and materials that would have been available back then.

"Since 1994, over 800 people have made trumpets at these courses. We don't make horns in those courses, only trumpets."

It's not a college course. The students receive no university credit; they just love brass, and pay to learn how to make their own.

He picks up one of his horns to demonstrate a technique:

"I can alter the length of the (natural) horn with my hand," he said, explaining how he gets a horn to play different pitches. The horn he was playing was in the key of E, and he can fill in the gaps in its harmonic range (the notes not playable on that horn) by placing his hand inside the horn's flare. "My hand is making the horn think it's longer."

But during most days he's teaching people to be modern orchestra musicians and chamber music players. "A lot of (IU Jacobs') students go to military bands, because there are good jobs there these days."

Find him at bit.ly/34fsEZ3 and on YouTube.

This article originally appeared on The Herald-Times: IU music professor, horn maker tries hand at historical fiction