Conductors & Musicians in The Books Store

Luciano Pavarotti’s longtime manager and friend tells all. All.

The King and I is the story of the thirty-six-year-old business relationship between Luciano Pavarotti and his manager, Herbert Breslin, during which Breslin guided what he calls, justifiably, “the greatest career in classical music.” During that career, Breslin moved Pavarotti out of the opera house and onto the concert (and the world) stage and into the arms of a huge mass public. How he and Pavarotti changed the landscape of opera is one of the most significant and entertaining stories in the history of classical music, and Herbert Breslin relates the tale in a brash, candid, witty fashion that is often bitingly frank and profane. He also provides a portrait of his friend and client—“a beautiful, simple, lovely guy who turned into a very determined, aggressive, and somewhat unhappy superstar”—that is by turns affectionate and satirical and full of hilarious details and tales out of school, with Pavarotti emerging as something like the ultimate Italian male. The book is also enlivened by the voices of other players in the soap opera drama that was Pavarotti’s career, and they are no less uncensored than Herbert Breslin. The last word, in fact, comes from none other than Luciano Pavarotti himself!
The King and I is the ultimate backstage book about the greatest opera star of the past century—and it’s a delight to read as well.

In 1955, at the age of 23, pianist Glenn Gould burst onto the world stage with his inspired recording of Bach's Goldberg Variations. His dynamic virtuosity and passionate artistry inspired millions, and he spent the next nine years as a star on the international concert circuit. In 1964 he announced that he was retiring from live performance, and he devoted the rest of his life to recording and documentaries.

Glenn Gould: A Life in Pictures is the first photographic treatment of the life of one of the greatest and most fascinating musicians of our time. This collection of more than 200 images includes a treasure trove of family pictures from the Glenn Gould Estate and rare photos from the CBC archives, Sony Classical and the National Library of Canada.

The foreword by Yo-Yo Ma and the introduction by music critic Tim Page provide an insightful overview of Gould's life and art. Extensive captions by the estate's literary adviser and quotations from Gould himself and other luminaries, such as Leonard Bernstein, Yehudi Menuhin, Leopold Stokowski and Leonard Rose, appear throughout the book. The result is a lively portrait of a creative genius.

There is a certain fascination in discovering the weaknesses and foibles of famous people. Yet this portrait of the great Jascha Heifetz is not really a "warts and all" account, but rather one that's "all warts." It depicts him as demanding, controlling, manipulative, tyrannical, sadistic, inflexible, narrow-minded, suspicious, reclusive, and, as his health declined, increasingly erratic, unpredictable, and irrational. When Agus met him, he had already retired from the stage, but still played chamber music privately with friends and students, and he did not stop playing for himself until almost the end. He poured a lot of energy into his master class. According to Agus's sometimes enlightening, sometimes primitive description, Heifetz's manner of teaching--he had no method--was intensely concentrated, but unremittingly, often unrealistically, demanding and despotic, pedagogically and personally.

But it's his relationship with the author herself that naturally takes center stage. Heifetz very soon added musical and domestic duties to her services until Agus spent virtually all her time at his beck and call, finally doing everything for him, even after she got married and became a mother, from running his household to administering his eye drops. She claims it was entirely due to her coaxing and assistance that he resumed work on his unfinished transcriptions. In return, he taught her a lot about making, performing, and arranging music. They exchanged stories about their lives, and she felt a bond in their both having grown up as prodigies (to whom he developed a lifelong aversion). Agus concludes that, like her, Heifetz was exploited by his parents, but unlike her, he was spoiled as well, and she speculates that this made him "a superannuated, insecure, and immature child," unable to form lasting relationships, craving but alienating friends. She discreetly avoids discussing his marital and family life. Not surprisingly, the sections about herself are written with the most natural immediacy; elsewhere, her style is often clumsy, with forced American colloquialisms, shallow pseudo-philosophical reflections, and pseudo-psychological analyses. There is a note of condescension, almost of contempt, in the way she portrays her tarnished idol, while underlining her own self-sacrificing loyalty, which she calls "putting up with him."