NOTE: I had not yet received the book when I created the following post. I realize I will never finish this book - it's not worth the the limited time allotted me. Nothing read, however, would appear to change what I put down below. gpp)
I have not yet read the book, but I do love me a good tale of delusion by an old-fashioned diva the likes of which we just don't get in the "real" world of music where diva defined the art: Opera.
In the October issue of "Opera News' Matthew Sigman reviews Angela Gheorghiu's memoirs: "A Life for Art," and I nearly fell off of my seat, as he tears into it - and the singer - with a delicious, devilish delight.
"After reading 'A Life for Art,' it will become painfully difficult to hear Gheorghiu's rapturous voice without hearing the human being behind it. Vain, trite, repetitive,, opportunistic, lacking insight and empathy . . .a self-indulgent tour de force that shatters any illusion of frailty, bravery or sensuality this gifted artist might hope to convey onstage. . . . deeply selfish . . . Solti weeps upon hearing her voice! Meryl Streep drops to her knees! Insults . . . meddles . . . loves seeing herself on film and shows gratitude to one one. So comically over-the-top . . . it borders on masterpiece. (it) could well be the standard by which narcissistic diva memoirs will be judged. Sadly, its author might consider that a compliment"
I generally steer clear from poison pen style posts, but this soprano - as much as I've loved her voice - has irked me almost from the beginning of her international career. Her self-indulgence is legendary. A critic friend (who adores her) was in Paris to interview her and she kept him waiting for hours in the hotel lobby. A maid or one of her assistants finally appearing to alert him that madame would be there shortly, but "in make-up." He couldn't resist adding the punch line, "all for a radio interview."
I can't wait to read this!
(Additional note: I CAN wait to read this . . . but likely never will. gpp.)
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