This was my birthday present last year -
countertony bought it for me on
naraht's recommendation - and has possibly been regretting it ever since. I have been reading bits out, staring into space contemplating the resulting thoughts, and generally squeeing all over the place.
This is admittedly a somewhat specialist area. If you're not interested in early nineteenth century Italian opera, you won't be interested. Fortunately, I am. If you're not interested in women's voices, and the point where women's voices become men's voices, and the point where men's voices become women's voices, and so on, you won't be interested. Actually this point seems to be fairly vital to my identity.
And so I loved this book. It is not coincidence that, mid-way through it, I spent my Amazon gift code on
Tancredi,
Faust, and Dvorak's
Stabat Mater (the one time in my life I was a tenor).
I must admit that it helps a lot that I can read a) music and b) academese. You may not love this book. But I did.