This seems to me like a very mean-spirited book. The author worked in the press office at the Met for some years and seems to be trying to even some scores here. Anyone she liked (Luciano Pavarotti, conductor James Levine) is excused any kind of bad behavior (womanizing, temper tantrums, manipulative treatment of others) on the grounds of artistic temperament or creative genius and is praised fulsomely. Others who behaved similarly but were apparently in the author's bad books (Placido Domingo, Renata Scotto) are condemned or damned with faint praise. Commenting on a major performance: "Domingo was Domingo." Tch tch!

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