Robert Lawrence (1) (1912–1981)

I forget sometimes how enjoyable a good nonfiction book can be. Usually my reading life is spent in the heady worlds of literary classics and fantasy fiction, but recently I have been delving into some works of nonfiction, including several relating to one of my favorite art forms: the opera. This, The World of Opera, is the fourth. From the little biographical information I have discovered, I have been able to pinpoint the author as a critic, moderator of the Metropolitan Opera quiz, the founder of the Friends of French Opera club, writer of various playbills, and I think a conductor. No other full-length works are attributed to him, so it can only be assumed that someone who was familiar with his body of work asked him to write this. The result is strange, unorganized, and highly opinionated, but also beautifully written and incredibly witty.

Throughout the first three chapters, I found Mr. Lawrence taking perspectives very different from my own, but arguing them so wonderfully that I found myself seeing his side of things by the time I finished. In “The Essence of Opera,” for instance, he explores the intermingling of words and music. I had always thought acting at least coequal with vocalism, finding those that promoted the latter over the former always favored bland, unexciting singers and composers. But as the case was built I was able to realize that, of course, music is the basis for the art; acting only brings it to life (and Lawrence has good things to say about dramatic plausibility in opera as well). And who could forget his indictment of the grand, overwrought theaters being built in the 50s? “One fine day, the Cleveland Public Auditorium and many of the kindred monstrosities in which opera is now exhibited on tour, will be swallowed up by the avenging ground or put to the torch by beneficent arsonists.” I just love the phrase “beneficent arsonists.”

However, the crown jewel of the book is “A Prima Donna Writes Her Memoirs,” ostensibly the true story of Gemma Jelink as told to Mr. Lawrence. As one reads, however, one gradually realizes how improbable the chapter is, chronicling the story of the diva’s education, rise to fame (as a character singer limited to cameo appearances), sordid affairs, and finally her retirement. Only at the end does Lawrence give out the punch line, writing ironically that Mme. Jelink now counsels her students to follow the principles of modesty and truth, the very two qualities not shown in the narrative. Episodes like the following make one wish that Lawrence had written whole books of satire, instead of a single chapter:

As the train sped through the sun-drenched countryside, a guardsman in brilliant uniform—one of the King’s hussars—looked at me saucily and exclaimed, "Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?" I stabbed him at once with a hat pin which Mme. Shuvitch had counseled me to use in such an emergency, and, after a gasp of surprise, he absented himself from the compartment for the rest of the trip.… (mais)