Fans pick 100 books like Vivaldi's Virgins

In prose that is engrossing and rich in color, culture, and voice, Dunant’s historical fiction novel incorporates stories of two of the women that I included in my own book.

The courtesan Fiammetta, loosely based on the life of Veronica Franco, and her healer La Draga, inspired by Elena Crusichi, pulled me into eighteenth-century Venice and its opportunities and dangers for enterprising women. Paired with reading Franco’s actual poems and letters, edited and translated by Ann Rosalind Jones and Margaret F. Rosenthal, I developed a deep admiration and compassion for Franco and Crusichi during Venice’s heyday.

Dunant has again written a page turner that I read more than once.

Elena Cornaro Piscopia holds the title as the first woman in the world to earn a university degree. But she earned it at great cost, and her story breaks my heart every time I recount it to others.

Guernsey pulled me into Elena’s fraught life, from her early intellectual curiosity and prowess, to her self-flagellation after being paraded around as a prodigy. Elena loved learning but hated the spotlight. Her experiences encapsulate what many Early-Modern women had to offer—and had to endure—yet her fortitude ultimately spotlights her resilience and can inspire others.

Giacomo Casanova, mostly remembered as an adventurous lover, wrote over a million words about his own life.

Here in Casanova’s Women, Summers turns the spotlight onto the women whom Casanova loved. I’ve read Casanova’s memoirs and have written a book about Casanova in Venice, but it was Summers’ chapters that made me reconsider perspective: How true is a story when it’s told from only one viewpoint?

Summers elevates the voices of these women, such as Casanova’s actress mother, the nuns who were his lovers, the adventurous sisters that he lost his virginity to, and the hometown girl who created one of London’s premier social spots. Their voices are invaluable in learning the fuller story.

Sometimes reading eighteenth-century writing can be tedious due to the differing norms and expectations of writing. But Archangela Tarabotti’s essays burn the page.

Her anger is incandescent. She became a cloistered nun without a calling and lived her years trying to make a life of letters. Though she had a couple patrons—men—who brought her books and helped publish her works, she was at their mercy and was later nearly silenced by them. She rails against fathers, priests, and powerful nobles who limit women’s choices and voices. I have never forgotten her anger at injustice.

Music, madness, and a malevolent ghost made me love this book more than Interview With the Vampire. I found the twist in this book very compelling, as Rice made her main character human and female with no “gift” other than her musical talent.

I’m also drawn to novels that move across time periods, as this one does, and bring in so much rich history. 

I wish I’d read this book twenty years ago when I was still in music school. Brendan Slocumb’s debut is a fast-paced, entertaining mystery but also a gut-wrenchingly personal commentary on what it’s like to be Black in the white world of classical music. Violinist Ray is even kicked out of a paid wedding gig by the bride’s racist uncle. The painful scenes of prejudice are juxtaposed with Ray’s passion for music and determination to be better than everyone thinks he can be. It’s clear that discrimination is rampant in the classical music scene and this book could be a change bringer. 

This is my only non-fiction pick, but it reads a little like a gripping work of fiction except that I had to keep pinching myself to remember it really happened. The author is writing about her experience as a professional violinist in a "fake" orchestra. It is a wonderfully nuanced look at the gray area between "fake" and "real", which is devastatingly pertinent to our times. It challenges us to consider if we can actually always tell the difference and if the difference is really clear-cut at all. The reason I'm including it in the list is that the main protagonist, the author, is a strong woman who is determined to make her own way. And there is one section I found particularly satisfying, in which (and I don't think this will give too much away) she refuses to include any romance in the book. She declines to write of… show more.

Not only is Itzhak Perlman considered to be one of the world’s best violinists, he’s also a powerful role model for overcoming adversity.

Growing up, when I listened to Itzhak Perlman’s recordings, I didn’t know that as a young boy, he suffered from polio. So, when I saw him perform for the first time, I didn’t expect to see him enter the stage in a wheelchair. As I marveled at the silvery tone of his violin, I wondered how he navigated through concert halls designed without the physically disabled in mind.

What I love most about this book is that it drives home an important point. Itzhak’s fiery passion for the violin has never been compromised by his disability.

The author and illustrator's notes explain the importance of the changes Itzhak has made to the field of classical music. In Itzhak’s own words, he explains how and why he has… show more.

I was dying to read this book because I'd heard it was structured after Beethoven's Kreutzer Sonata for violin and piano, and even though it's not a piece I'm intimately familiar with I could almost hear the music as I read. Even though it's billed as a love story, it's not so much a typical romance as it is an ode to following your passions, listening to your heart, and falling in love with New York City...for the first time, or all over again. As a longtime New Yorker I found myself rediscovering the city through Dominique's eyes, and I even learned some cool NYC facts I'd never heard before (not going to spoil anything, but I listen to the subway in a whole new way now)! Highly recommended for anyone who loves music, New York, or lyrical writing about flawed but shimmering characters.

Martin Goldsmith has penned the story of his father and mother who were talented musicians in Germany during Hitler’s rise to power. They met by chance and were invited to play for the Kulturbund, an all Jewish orchestra that was allowed to exist while it was convenient to the Nazi’s. When disbanded, the members were sent to concentration camps. Goldsmith’s parents escaped to America, but carried with them the burden of relatives left behind and the guilt of having played into the Nazi’s propaganda efforts.