Starlings are everywhere and yet I hadn’t properly seen them until I picked up this book.

The author combines the history of our relationship with the starling, a reviled bird that is nevertheless so much like us, with an up-close view of the species through a pet starling named Carmen. This book will leave you enchanted by the chatty birds. 

I used this in class the last semester I taught at Duke; had I continued to teach I would have used it again. The students and I found it was two things—as it tells the Secret History of Creation, Invention, and Discovery it also spotlights creative strategies and entrepreneurial behaviors in the stories it shares. It’s an entertaining history and narrative of creative and entrepreneurial successes; both teach us, guide us, maybe even inspire us. I’m the father of three daughters and appreciated the stories he’s uncovered of many life-changing innovations that women led but men claimed. 

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.   

Years ago, someone gave this book to me for Valentine’s Day; and I literally drowned in the pages, the naked emotion. The next Valentine’s Day I bought copies for several friends. I would call this collection more beautiful than romantic; with each love letter, you hear love from various perspectives and time periods.

I love when authors mix genres. Dibdin’s Cosi Fan Tutti is a combination of mystery and a Mozart opera! 

Combining the farcical elements of corruption, romantic longing, and mistaken identity, Dibdin pulls us through the beautiful streets of Naples, Italy, where everyone is thoughtful and earnest, and still, somehow, nothing like they appear. 

His detective Aurelio Zen is supposed to be keeping the peace, but he’s not up for the job, much more interested in untying romantic entanglements and enjoying the countryside. A solid plan until the Italian sanitation department decides they’re going to clean up the streets for him.

Lighthearted and breezy but with a genuine emotional core, you’ll get through Cosi Fan Tutte in a single sitting and be happier for it. 

The reception of Mozart’s life and works captures our collective fascination with him. Deutsch’s Documentary Biography is a foundational volume in this area. It primarily comprises documents about Mozart published during his lifetime (and shortly after his death on 5 December 1791), detailing among other things his status as a child prodigy, the evolving reputation of his instrumental and vocal works, and crazes for his music in the 1780s. 

Rather than a single authorial voice emerging as is standard in biographical work, many voices convey similar and different views of the activities and achievements in Mozart’s remarkable career.      

This is a love story to grandparents everywhere but what I find interesting is that this story features the grandfather as the main character, and not the child. I love this story because it shows the grandfather being humble and feeling blessed as he does not quite understand why his grandchildren believe him to be the greatest at everything - for surely he is no Mozart when it comes to music, or Picasso when it comes to drawing. Even when his grandchildren exclaim he is the greatest storyteller, the grandfather looks back at those who came before him and taught him to tell stories, and lead a seder, and gives his ancestors the credit.

I absolutely love how the grandfather grapples with whether to tell the grandkids all of this - that he is really not that special at all - but then realizes that it is the LOVE that… show more.

Mary Durant was my mother. This was her first novel, published in 1963. When I read it, the proverbial light bulb popped to life in my very young head: I recognized the real-life people and events upon whom the characters and plot were based, and because of that familiarity, saw the way my mother had changed things around, invented circumstances, conversations and fashioned composite characters to create a story. It was a behind-the-scenes crash course in the art of fiction-writing, the marvelous synthesis by which the novelist spins fact and invention into literature. And I understood that really good fiction, though technically a "made up" story, is always imbued with Truth with a capital "T," and that great writing and Truth are inextricably intertangled.

My mother was a first-rate writer and reader, and because of her, I was initiated into the quasi-secret bandwidth of real literature. The key: it’s all… show more.

The Magic Flute is my absolute favorite opera, and I remember the countless hours I spent listening to songs on CDs. For my birthday one year, my parents gave me a movie of a live performance of The Magic Flute by the Metropolitan Opera, and I watched the movie at least 10 times. Thus, when I found this book on the bookshelf of my library, I knew I had to sit down and read it. I became immersed in the book, following along with Prince Tamino and his journey while listening to the excerpts of the opera recorded in the pages. The tale captivates the readers and introduces them to the world of music. 

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.