I've finished two books that provide even-handed and unvarnished portraits of two giants of classical music: Bruno Walter and Arturo Toscanini. The former is a rigorous account of Walter's odyssey between the old and new worlds, written by Erik Ryding and Rebecca Pechefsky, published by the Yale University Press and appropriately entitled, "Bruno Walter--A World Elsewhere." The second is "The Letters of Arturo Toscanini," edited by Harvey Sachs and published by Knopf. Sachs, the author of an earlier Toscanini biography in 1978, regretted at the time that there were few letters and personal items to draw on for primary source materials. To his surprise, shortly after the appearance of his book, bundles of letters began appearing at various auctions; and he hit the proverbial jackpot in 1995, when close to 1,000 letters from the Maestro to one Ada Mainardi, were auctioned in Berlin. These documents trace a torrid affair between the married Maestro and the wife of one his Italian colleagues against the backdrop of musical milestones and seismic political shifts on three continents. Other correspondence between Toscanini and NBC officials, the Italian government, and members of his own family (remember that Horowitz was a son-in law) illustrate his strong beliefs about everything from anti-Fascism to contemporary music and preening competitors ("Stokowski--that clown"). Stepping back from some of the more explicitly libidinous episodes, the reader can gain an appreciation of a volatile figure, consumed by self-doubt and insecurity, yet absolute in his convictions about composers, performance styles, and politics. Interesting, too, is Toscanini's loyalty and generosity, quietly aiding needy musicians trapped by the World War II, actively promoting the careers of William Steinberg and Guido Cantelli, and staying in touch with Maestro Walter for most of the century, despite their differences in upbringing and artistic approach. Indeed, a dramatic event covered in both works is the murder-suicide of Walter's daughter and her husband. It was Toscanini's daughter who broke the news to Walter, and it was Toscanini who accompanied his stricken colleague through the otherwise private funeral and memorial. A consistent theme of the Walter work is the sense of wandering, renewal and reinvention--being turned out by the Nazis from Germany, then Austria, in the 1930s, returning to the podium after the death of his daughter, then his years in the U.S., first in New York, and, finally, his "Indian Summer" of stereo recordings with the hand-picked Columbia Symphony in Los Angeles. And his affair with soprano Delia Reinhardt, along with other flirtations, are included as well. In fact, one of Toscanini's letters notes that Walter looks particularly cheerful during his New York stay because his wife is not along with him on the trip. While the sober, fact-filled and thoroughly footnoted Walter volume earns a "PG" for its discretion in handling his personal life, the Sachs collection of Toscanini correspondence veers much more closely to the adult "R." Some reviewers, including John Rockwell in the June 14 New York Times, believe this book crosses the threshold inappropriately, "into the artist's bedroom." But the fact remains: Toscanini was a passionate, combustible personality, and these thoughts--in his own hand--reveal much more of the mortal behind the legend. I'd recommend both books to lovers of classical music, especially those listeners fascinated by the convergence of art and life. But I'd keep the Toscanini letters out of the reach of the kids for a while longer. Dick Claeys