There are so many reasons to recommend this hugely entertaining memoir that it's hard to know where to begin: the charismatic 85-year-old conductor finished it shortly before he died in September 1997, but as you turn the pages, you might be on a first-class train journey across Europe with Sir George as a genial travelling companion, constantly refilling your glass with an intoxicating mixture of insider gossip (why Grace Bumbry disappeared from the stage without warning during a performance of Salome), musings about composers ("I eventually came to the conclusion that the fact that Mozart lived proves the existence of a supreme being . . .") and self-deprecatory real-life anecdotes ("I'd never been on skis before, but as it looked easy, I had a go on the nursery slopes - in German, Idiotenhugel. I fell a few times and picked myself up, but then I lost total control, shot down the hill, across a main road and straight through the open door of a ski shop . . .") as well as an unforgettable recreation of his youth in Hungary and wartime isolation in Switzerland while his Jewish family was being decimated. This book will send a whole new generation of people scurrying to the recordings - as well it might. A treasure.
