Pavarotti

I’ll admit: I approached this skeptical. How could three hours capture a life as outsized as Pavarotti’s? But the audiobook’s brevity turns out to be its strength—no meandering digressions, just razor-sharp anecdotes that reveal the man behind the myth. Dukes’ narration is a revelation: he doesn’t *imitate* Pavarotti, but channels his cadence—the way the tenor would pause mid-sentence for emphasis, or let a self-deprecating joke land with a chuckle. The pacing is brisk, almost cinematic, jumping from his childhood in wartime Italy to his Met debut to his *Three Tenors* glory days without ever feeling rushed. That said, there are two missed opportunities. First, the lack of musical excerpts is a glaring omission—even a few seconds of *Nessun Dorma* would’ve elevated the emotional beats. Second, Pavarotti glosses over his later years (the weight struggles, the vocal decline) with a breeziness that feels disingenuous. Still, the audiobook excels in its candid portraits of rivals like Domingo and Carreras, and its unapologetic celebration of Pavarotti’s *joy*—his love of food, football, and the sheer thrill of singing. If you’ve ever wondered how a farmer’s son became a household name who sold out stadiums, this is your backstage pass. Just don’t expect hagiography; expect *humanity*." "tags": [ "opera icon memoir