A Note About the Book’s Title

Since I was young, I’ve been captivated by the jazz aesthetic: grayscale visions of smoke-filled rooms, late-night conversations whispered over the cool backdrop of a Miles Davis jam. But I struggled to understand the disjointed rhythms and elongated improvisations of traditional jazz. It wasn’t until I discovered my parents’ CD of the Sleepless in Seattle soundtrack (1993) that I found a more approachable version of jazz in its vocalized form. On that disc alone there appear the voices of Louis Armstrong, Jimmy Durante, Harry Connick Jr., Carly Simon, and Nat King Cole.

The fascination stuck with me for years though I continued trying and failing to fully appreciate the technical allure. Then I discovered a playlist celebrating 20th-century jazz vocalists, and it was there I first encountered the unforgettable melody in Nat King Cole’s version of “Autumn Leaves.” Listening to that song on repeat for days on end inspired me to set each of the four stories in my book in autumn.

During one manic writing session, when I had mindlessly setup a background playlist of YouTube videos, I heard again that familiar tune. I followed along as the melody was teased and emphasized into a crescendo of rousing jazz perfection. Unbeknownst to me, “Autumn Leaves” had been a jazz standard since the early 1960’s. The version that resonated that day, the one that finally cemented my appreciation of jazz, was performed by the Bill Evans Trio. It remains a favorite.

I eventually found a multitude of covers performed by artists ranging from Miles Davis to Japanese musicians in tiny Tokyo studios. The melody, a constant, became my companion as I continued the difficult process of crafting my book. I tried other methods too - white noise and classical music - but none seemed to stimulate the inspiration and dedication necessary to finish like “Autumn Leaves.”

Then I heard a song with the same melody, but sung in French, and the cadence of the lyrics was unfamiliar. So, I investigated its origin. The melody was originally written for a ballet before it found its way into Marcel Carné’s 1946 film “Les Porte de la Nuit” (Gates of the Night), with lyrics added by a French poet named Jacques Prévert. The film is a bleak look at post-war Paris and the mood of the song matches the destruction and sadness. The lead actor in that movie, a singer named Yves Montand, introduced the song to the world with a recording in 1950, and from there it crossed the Atlantic where Jonny Mercer, of Capitol Records fame, reimagined it for an American audience. The original French melancholy was lightened, turning it warm and nostalgic, perfect for the likes of Nat King Cole and zippy jazz artists.

The throughline of these songs, whether upbeat or down, was the same melody that also wove itself into my work, guiding me through revisions, comforting me during edits. In its repetition, it waited patiently to reveal a truth. This truth, questioned outright by the characters in my story "Dino", embodied the essence of my book. So, I decided to name it as a tribute to the original French melody that helped shape its creation. Where Johnny Mercer renamed it Autumn Leaves, I chose instead a nod to the melody’s roots. The French called the song “Les Feuilles Mortes” and I titled my book its literal translation – The Dead Leaves.