Customer Reviews

Maria Callas: The Tigress and the Lamb

5 star:		(0)
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1 star:		(4)

 

 

Riddled with inaccuracies, sensationalistic, precious, this wholly useless book is best ignored. Even the photos are poorly chosen, and the adulatory tone surprises only by becoming more and more treacly and embarassing.

This poorly written, badly documented, sensationalistic approach to a life that was sensational enough without editorial help, turns Callas into a mix of Tallulah Bankhead, Imelda Marcos and Judy Garland with high notes. With fans like these, who needs ennemies ?

The book is a quick read. I doubt it took that long to write, actually. Having read more scholarly books about Callas, I found this book to be pretty sensationalistic and *probably* an inaccurate representation of this singer.

I have talked to people who knew Callas, and the general consensus is that she disdained profanity and was a rather private person. This book would have us believe otherwise. If you want to read a good Callas bio, try the one by George Jellinek, published by Dover. Also, I expect the one by Anne Edwards which will be published later in 2001 will be a good read.

One star only because Amazon wouldn't let me give it zero. I guess the ridiculous title should have tipped me off. This book is so awful that I don't even know where to begin. I am a serious student of Callas, I've read every biography, article, and critical analysis that I can find. I even have a Callas tattoo, so while I may not be objective when it comes to her work, I know what I'm talking about when I say that this book had me shaking my head on every page. Just a few of the hideous examples: 1. Rampant, inexcusable inaccuracies--'In Questa Reggia' is from 'Turandot,' Mr. Bret, not 'Butterfly.' It's Barbara Walters, not Barbara Wallace (I guess it had to be "Wallace" to set up the ludicrous story about Callas fearing speaking to Ms. Walters after her unpleasant encounter with Mike Wallace on "60 Minutes." Is it possible that Mr. Bret actually does not know who Barbara Walters is? Or that he didn't even bother to watch the video of the interview on which he purports to be an authority? Yet the "Interview Sources" (undoubtedly prepared by someone other than Mr. Bret) list "Barbara Walters." Was anyone paying attention? 2. He paints Callas as a shrill, foul-mouthed harridan with the vocabulary of a drunken sailor and the morals of an alley cat (sorry for the clichés--they come easier for some reason after slogging through this disgusting book). Where are the references? The only "source" quoted is one "Roger Normand," identified only as her "Paris friend." Normand is also listed in the bibliography as the collaborator with Bret on something called "Le Ring," which, God help us, purports to tell even more about Callas (but, conveniently, only after Normand's death). What kind of nonsense is this? 3. Supporting characters--who knew that Maurice Chevalier, Marlene Dietrich, and Piaf were such a huge part of Callas's career? Each merits more pages in the index than, for example, Leonard Bernstein (but not as many as Roger Normand, of course). Oh, wait, Bret has written biographies of Chevalier, Dietrich, and Piaf. Could that have something to do with it? He's also written one on Freddie Mercury--how did he manage to leave him out? 4. Each chapter opens with a quote, we have to assume from Callas, although there is no indication of when she said it or where. This is in keeping with the book's COMPLETE lack of annotation. Not a single footnote. I guess we'll have to wait for "Le Ring." 5. He roped Montserrat Caballe into writing a Foreword and dedicates the book to her. She obviously never saw it, since she doesn't mention it or the author once. I trust she's gotten over the shame of being associated with this since she says some very kind things about Callas. The only consolation in wallowing through this pile of garbage is that maybe now we've finally seen the worst book ever written on Callas. Unless you need something to wrap fish in, stick with Ardoin, Sutherland, Jellinek, Lowe, Wisneski. Or write your own, you couldn't do worse.