The Standard Operas: Their Plots, Their Music, and Their Composers (12th edition) — Reading Notes

Structure and Scope

The handbook organizes entries alphabetically by composer, then by opera. Each entry follows a consistent pattern: a brief biography of the composer, a synopsis of the plot, and a discussion of the music's character, highlighting key arias and ensembles. For example, the entry on Mozart's Don Giovanni describes the finale's “sepulchral character” and notes a parody of Mozart's own “Non piu andrai.” The Magic Flute entry recounts the libretto's last-minute reversal, turning the evil magician into the philosopher Sarastro. This structural uniformity allows readers to quickly locate information, but the depth varies—some entries include original casts, others do not.

Recurring Images and Musical Descriptions

Upton frequently uses visual and tactile imagery to evoke music. In Don Giovanni, the statue music is described as “sepulchral,” “cold and ominous as the marble of the Commandant,” yet with an “element of the grotesque” in Leporello's terror. For The Magic Flute, he notes the “impressive music” of Sarastro, contrasting with the trivial bird-catcher Papageno. These descriptions often link musical character to physical objects—marble, feathers, darkness—creating a consistent sensory vocabulary. The author also highlights moments of parody or quotation, such as Mozart's insertion of Martin's aria in Don Giovanni, showing attention to intertextual details.

Movement Between Scenes

Upton traces the dramatic flow of each opera, noting how scenes transition. In Don Giovanni, he outlines the sequence: the overture, the murder of the Commandant, the catalogue aria, the mask trio, the garden scene, and the finale with the statue and banquet. He observes that the finale “is occupied with the scenes at the statue and at the banquet,” with a short scene for Donna Anna and Don Ottavio intervening. For The Magic Flute, he explains how the libretto's revision shifted the story's point, leading to the “magnificent character of Sarastro.” This attention to scene progression helps readers follow the narrative without reading the full libretto.

Historical Anchoring

Each entry grounds the opera in its premiere date, location, and sometimes original cast. Upton also includes anecdotes: Mozart's revenge on rivals by parodying their arias, or Schickaneder's invention of Papageno's feathered costume to “tickle the fancy of the public.” These details, drawn from sources like Grove's Dictionary, give the handbook a historical texture. However, Upton does not claim completeness; he acknowledges the “necessarily brief space allotted to each” opera. The preface credits his own library and standard works, positioning the book as a digest for the general reader rather than a scholarly monograph.

Upton's handbook remains a period artifact of late-19th-century opera appreciation. Its value lies not in critical depth but in its systematic presentation of plots, musical highlights, and production history. Readers should treat the descriptions as informed summaries, not substitutes for experiencing the works. The consistent structure and vivid imagery make it a useful reference for identifying key scenes and numbers before attending a performance.

There’s something tender about keeping a 1897 handbook close, its pages softening at the creases where “Tannhäuser” ends and “Lohengrin” begins. I found old pencil marks by a previous owner, small exclamations beside the Russian entries. That led me, years later, to The Mentor: Russian Music, Vol. 4, Num. 18, Serial No. 118, November 1, 1916 — Reading Notes, and I thought of how a single annotation can summon an entire orchestra.