Books like Secret Lives of Great Composers — picked by fans

Of course, the entire notion of a ferocious enmity between Mozart and Salieri is fiction. They were actually friends and once even collaborated on a short cantata, Per la ricuperata salute di Ofelia [On the Recovery of the Health of Ofelia].

However, the story is a marvelous conception, seasoned by the central idea that the envious Salieri somehow ruined Mozart and drove him to his death (from overwork — also quite fictitious!). It truly “works” literarily. The play goes even further, accentuating the overbearing political influence of Italian musicians in the court.

I recommend the script of the play (from which the movie derived) so that the reader can get an even deeper appreciation for Salieri’s villainous character—and I can also recommend the award-winning movie!

I cannot reasonably recommend Part Two without Part One. If we look at all the ghastly sins with which the eponymous hero has been involved by the end of that first drama, it seems inconceivable that he can possibly be redeemed.

Nevertheless, we have Goethe’s Part Two, completed twenty-four years after the earlier play, and by its conclusion, Faust has (somehow) been saved.

In fact, I sense some echo of Part One when Angelica’s unborn baby strangles on its cord: a far milder outcome for Paganini (who sired the child) than for Faust (whose Gretchen drowns their infant and is condemned to death). However, as the readers will see, Paganini truly loves the son he begets some years later.

In fairness, I read this book hoping for insights into the identity of Beethoven’s “Immortal Beloved,” a mystery it certainly does not resolve. However, many other aspects make the book worthwhile reading, notwithstanding the large historical liberties the author takes.

Smith’s Beethoven has been unable to appreciate the love so many have had for him. Who better to enlighten him than Napoleon, to whom he originally dedicated his third symphony (“Eroica”), only to scratch out the dedication and write instead, “to the memory of a great man”? What better vehicles than powerful, dream-like scenes (since in a sense, the whole book is a deathbed dream)?

Above all, whether the author has used fantasies, ghosts, or spirits, he has provided an interesting technique to present the supernatural events the protagonist experiences.

I suspect I’ll raise a few eyebrows with this recommendation, notwithstanding the Amazon series it spawned (which ran for four seasons).

The book was not uniformly applauded, and it is difficult to know how accurate certain details are, given Tindall’s use of more than thirty pseudonyms and numerous denials from people she named. However, the prevalence of sex, drugs, and power politics in classical music is a harsh, ugly fact.

Classical musicians often misbehave, and if even those struggling for orchestral positions are guilty, how much worse might it be with the superstars? Obviously, I am thinking about Niccolò Paganini, but readers should also consider recent scandalous allegations against Placido Domingo and the late James Levine.

Bernard Herrmann is revered as one of the movies' greatest composers.

Imagine starting your Hollywood career with music for Citizen Kane!

He enjoyed a very productive 10-year relationship with director Alfred Hitchcock, which produced such masterpieces as Vertigo, Psycho, and North by Northwest; he also worked with Francois Truffaut on Fahrenheit 451, composed the original Twilight Zone theme, and capped his career with music for Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver.

Yet he could be cantankerous and difficult, antagonizing both friends and colleagues with his temperamental behavior and insistence upon the highest standards of music and drama.

I love the fact that Smith writes as well about the music as he does about the composer, and the reader walks away knowing lots about both.

I love this energetic book about experimental composer Charles Ives for its liveliness, beautiful language, and glorious sounds! It’s also an important example of staying true to yourself and following your own path.

Before he became a composer, young Charles Ives’s life was full of noise–glorious noise! Influenced by his father, a music educator and bandleader, Ives experimented with sound. Like John Cage, he faced ridicule and criticism, and faced roadblocks to having his music performed.

I love this book because it shows how a musical icon discovered and developed his own personal style.

Juan García Esquivel had a passion for music but no formal training. Without knowing the typical ways of arranging notes, Esquivel was free to experiment–and that made his work so unique that anyone hearing his music knew right away that he was the composer.

I think this book is great for showing the value of thinking differently. I also love the joyful illustrations inspired by ancient Mexican art.

This is the first substantial biography of Mozart, published in 1798.  It was written by a Czech author, Franz Niemetschek, who probably knew Mozart personally and who certainly attended musical events at which Mozart participated in Prague in 1787 and 1791. 

While its tone is hagiographical, it contains important insights on Mozartian aesthetics, as well as invaluable recollections of Mozart in action.    

This thoroughly researched and engaging biography starts before the beginning of Mozart’s life and ends long after it.  In short–and as indicated in the book’s subtitle–it is not simply about Mozart, but about how his life intersects with the lives of those closest to him, namely father Leopold, sister Nannerl, and wife Constanze. 

Leopold emerges as central to Mozart’s story until his death in 1787, and Constanze too from their courtship in 1781, through Mozart’s death a decade later and beyond it as well, when she tirelessly developed his legacy and reputation.   

The Manchester evoked by Joy Division and Barry Adamson's first band, Magazine, also entered the Eighties a ravaged post-industrial city, strafed first by the Luftwaffe and then its own planners, who erected Brutalist estates over its Victorian past.

The son of a white Mancunian mother and black Jamaican father, Adamson grew up in some of the worst of the city's social housing in the Hulme of the Sixties. Another Selby aficionado, Barry recounts the story his challenging childhood with a picaresque, magical realist flair.

Music offers both salvation and damnation – as he progresses through Magazine and into Nick Cave's Bad Seeds, so too do all his most self-sabotaging addictions, until death brings a reckoning and a salvation in the first fruit of his solo career, the LP Moss Side Story.