H. L. Mencken declared that "the opera is to music what a bawdy house is to a cathedral." It was not meant as a compliment, but to William Murray, former New Yorker staff writer and aspiring opera singer, a bawdy house is an apt metaphor for the opera: a place of confusion, high and low drama, fleshly pleasures and raucous song.
Weaving recollections of his own days training in New York, Rome and Milan in the 1950s with the personal and artistic struggles of the young singers in Chicago today, Murray lays bare the staggering ambition and relentless will required to achieve a career in the arts. As he writes, "Becoming a successful opera singerstepping out on a huge stage to try to fill the house with your voice, to bring an audience of thirty-six hundred people to its feetis as risky in its own peculiar way as embarking on a career as a matador. You can triumph, you can struggle to survive or you can perish from your wounds." Fortissimo is a delicious tale of rising talents, angst and heartache and small triumphs, and the music that inspires it all.