Amongst the 16 pages of photographic plates that illustrate this fairly slender volume, there is a picture of Karajan meeting the Pope. The event isn’t even alluded to in the book. Another picture shows the conductor and his wife, both looking fabulously elegant: the caption reads “Eliette and Herbert von Karajan at the Opera Ball”. It’s one of only two occasions where Eliette is mentioned by name. Nor does he mention his daughters by name.
To say that Herbert von Karajan was guarded is like saying that Fort Knox is a little bit difficult to get into. Accordingly, the book is a bit of a curate’s egg, with musicologist and critic Endler having to construct numerous bridging sections based on his interviews with Karajan - and sometimes based on his *interpretation* of those interviews - while the sections in which he is able to quote Karajan at length in his own words invariably concern technical matters.
Anyone looking for names, dates, places and hard facts will be disappointed. Unless I missed it, the book doesn’t even state Karajan’s date of birth. What emerges is more like a lofty *impression* of Herbert von Karajan, underpinned by his far more concrete opinions on recording technology, editing, purity of sound and the day-to-day of running the Salzburg and Easter Festivals. These are, unsurprisingly, the most satisfying passages.
Elsewhere, Endler waxes lyrical a little too often, obviously puffed up on working so closely with such a legendary figure and a little too keen to repeat that fact for the reader’s benefit. The prose style is also rather clunky in places, but that might be an issue of translation.
I have Karajan biographies by Roger Vaughan and Richard Osborne, which I’ll be diving into during the next few weeks. I have a feeling that Karajan, as a subject, needs to be approached from multiple angles.