After so many years of success as a creative writer (The Land That Isn't, to Garlic in the Soup, Ventures into the Deep, Yesterday's Land, stories, articles, and what-have-you), what has prompted Leonard Wibberley to this confession of an undercurrent of frustration? His attempts and failure to become a virtuoso vioinist are the plot of this autobiography, but the theme is dedicated to a greater and more endearing purpose; to reveal the true story of his friendship with a noble man. Julian Brodetsky came from a Russia of killing winters and classical music education. He never forgot his motherland and could tell its stories with insight and humor; but he loved liberty and his adopted America so well that he has their best interpreter when visiting Soviet artists took his ""guided tour"" around Los Angeles. A short spate of inadequate lessons in childhood, and 25 years of teaching himself to play -- or rather, to torment -- the violin, and still Leonard wished to play competently if not professionally. Someone sent him to the studio on North Alfred Street, where Julian's own love for the instrument could be observed in his inspiring and endlessly patient instruction. And so it came to pass that the pupil became a friend, and the friend began to play the olin. The happy association is narrated with Wibberley's best sparkle.