When Life Swings: Presence, Jazz, and the Quiet Power of Attention
The Now Era: Improvisations on Presence, Rhythm, and the Art of Being Human is not a conventional music memoir, nor is it a self-help manual dressed up with anecdotes. Sarah Jane Cion’s book operates in the in-between space—much like jazz itself—where lived experience, reflection, and improvisation quietly inform one another.
Cion writes as a working jazz pianist, teacher, parent, and deeply attentive human being. What gives this book its credibility is not lofty philosophy, but the accumulation of small, precise moments: late-night gigs, classroom exchanges, family memories, cats weaving through daily life, grief that lingers without spectacle, and joy that arrives unexpectedly. These moments are not presented as lessons to be consumed, but as rhythms to be noticed.
The structure—short, essay-like pieces—mirrors the book’s core idea: presence is not linear. Some entries swing with humor and wit, others settle into stillness. The recurring, enigmatic presence of “Jason” functions less as a narrative device and more as a tuning fork, gently recalibrating the reader’s attention. It’s an unusual choice, but it works because Cion never overexplains it. She trusts the reader’s intelligence.
Musicians will immediately recognize the truth in her observations: the grind, the waiting, the value of listening to elders, and the way mistakes often become breakthroughs. Non-musicians, however, are not excluded. The language is accessible, grounded, and free of insider pretension. Jazz here is not a gatekeeping art form—it’s a metaphor for living awake.
Importantly, The Now Era resists the modern obsession with optimization. There is no promise of mastery, enlightenment, or control. Instead, Cion offers attention, patience, and humor as viable tools for navigating life. The prose reflects this restraint—warm, rhythmic, and confident without being self-impressed.
This book will not shout at you. It doesn’t need to. It listens first.