A few years ago, I visited one of my local libraries to collect a set of The New Grove Dictionary of Opera that I had on reserve, the Chief Librarian having promised me their copy as soon as it became available for sale. At the time the reference Library was transferring to ‘online’ wherever possible, so sales of this sort were becoming fairly frequent. ‘Is there anything else of interest up for grabs?’ I enquired. ‘Well, there’s John Ruskin,’ replied the librarian, ‘… come upstairs and I’ll show you.’ The visit therefore proved doubly fruitful. I was presented with a number of boxes that contained, between them, 39 individually numbered volumes of the virtually complete works by the 19^th century artist, critic and social reformer John Ruskin (over 9 million words), clothbound save for their leather spines and in pretty good condition. Leafing through just a few pages was enough to arrest my interest. I rushed home to reference the original novella-length Ruskin article in The Dictionary of National Biography (or ‘DNB’, another library acquisition) by one of the editors of the Complete Works, E. T. Cook, so that I could ponder my potential purchase. Having genned up and been duly satisfied that Ruskin, his life and works, warranted the necessary space and outlay, I bought the books and commenced what has so far proved a five/six-years period of absorption and study. I’ve had a ball.

So where’s the parallel with Maria Callas? In terms of the two characters, dedication is a common keyword. Ruskin was a devoted scholar, unstinting with his work ethic, creatively productive and tirelessly in search of a truthful art. Ditto Callas, who was less a singer than an artist whose vocal attire took on the very soul of whoever she was portraying at the time. She didn’t song Tosca, she became Tosca, or Carmen, or Violetta, or Norma or any of the 74 roles she graced with her presence. The voice was often far from lovely (Elly Ameling recently re-released on Decca Eloquence would be a better bet if that’s what you’re after, albeit in very different repertoire). Renata Tebaldi, Callas’s (sometimes wrongly) perceived nemesis was also less the virago than a true opera Diva, Joan Sutherland too – and that’s just among singers from the relatively recent past. In Italian opera the American soprano Rosa Ponselle (Rosa Melba Ponzillo) was the queen of ‘beautiful voices’ from an earlier generation. Callas was a fiery force of nature and time and again when you listen to her ‘live’ recordings, audiences erupt into paroxysms of wild enthusiasm at the mere sight of her. Listening to her, even through compromised sound (as is sometimes the case on disc), is seeing as well as hearing: Callas’s singing and acting leave nothing to the imagination.

Some years ago Warner Classics released their collection ‘Maria Callas live – Remastered Recordings 1949–1964, 9029584470 (42 CDs + 3 Blu-rays)’. Up until then my exposure to her work covered one or two recitals, the benchmark Victor de Sabata Tosca and the Georges Prêtre Carmen, and that was just about it. The ‘live’ recordings released a level of electricity that I was not prepared for. Prior to my purchase I’d interviewed Michael Tilson Thomas and we touched on the issue of ‘pirate’ recordings. He laughed knowingly: ‘it seems ironic that the most pirated of all singers on disc should appear on a bootleg recording of Bellini’s Il Pirata, [The Pirate]’ a work I’d only ever heard mentioned by opera buffs in specialist record shops.

So, my curiosity whetted, I was eager to hear music that in the last scene (Act 2, scene 3) sounds nothing like the Bellini I’d so far experienced, more like Boito (ie, the Prologue to Mefistofele, composed many years later), what with its explosive orchestral climaxes and a devastating use of the tam-tam that for effect rivals its use in Wagner’s Götterdämmerung. At this point in the libretto, the Knights condemn former Count of Montalto Gualtiero to death and, as the scaffold is erected, the Duke of Caldora’s wife Imogene [Callas] is raving: Oh, sole! ti vela / “Oh sun, veil yourself / in darkest gloom / hide the cruel axe / from my sight”. Her ladies lead Imogene from the courtyard. The words ‘shivers’ and ‘spine’ hardly do justice to the effect that these recordings, either in concert in Amsterdam or as part of a New York performance of the complete opera from the same year (1959).

The complete opera appeared in the ‘Maria Callas live’ set and reappears now in La Divina – Maria Callas in all her roles Warner Classics 5419747395, 135 CDs, c£350.00, released: 22nd Sep 2023 together with the concert performance of the last scene on its own.  As Warner Classics puts it (see Presto Classical’s site at https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/9474784–la-divina-maria-callas-in-all-her-roles), ‘this is the most comprehensive box of Callas recordings ever released, presenting ‘La Divina’ in all 74 roles for which audio documents exist. It comprises her complete studio recordings, an extensive collection of her best live recordings, the masterclasses she gave at the Juilliard School, Blu-ray videos, and a bonus CD of world premiere releases: alternate takes and working sessions from studio recordings of the 1960s.’ I might also add the important DVD bonus CD that includes recorded interviews about Callas with the likes of Herbert von Karajan, Carlo Maria Giulini, Herbert Downes, Jon Vickers, Tito Gobbi and many others. The same DVD also features full libretti, sung texts (both with English translations) and liner notes. There’s additionally a 147-page hardback book crammed full of information (the Callas rôles, when she sang them, ‘live’ or studio, and a mass of unfamiliar photos – including one where she poses next to Marilyn Munroe). So, I’d say that’s about as comprehensive as you’d want. The sound too is, in many cases, better than we’ve ever known it before.

But there’s more. The previously released ‘live’ set, a handsome oblong tome, didn’t include the live recitals or the electrifying 1955 La Scala La Traviata under Giulini (although Warners/EMI had previously issued it on CD) but thankfully all is securely in place for the new collection. In recalling Callas, the distinguished writer on opera J. B. Steane noted ‘the cantilena of Norma’s invocation, the mischievous Rosina, the tormented Tosca, the arched phrases of Leonora as she sighs forth her soul outside her lover’s prison where monks chant the “Miserere”…  It is a world that draws you further in on each visit, sometimes reluctantly (so much candid emotional manipulation can be trying), but more often than not on the wings of inspiration, the like of which defies adequate description.