It cannot be easy to write the biography of a living person. The first problem is that of authorization: asking the cooperation of the subject inevitably raises the possibility of a veto over the whole work, while going it alone deprives the biographer of both private documents and the testimony of the one individual who knows the biographical material better than anyone else. Without the subject’s cooperation, the contributions from friends and associates, too, are more difficult to obtain, except for the occasional and suspect expressions of bitterness and rejection. Hanging over everything is the threat of a suit for libel, restricted, at least until a recent court decision, to the complaints of living plaintiffs. When to all these hindrances is opposed the advantage of treating a whole life as a completed field of study, there can be no surprise that the best biographies are written after the subject’s death.

But to put the matter this way is to argue on behalf of scholarship. Viewed another way, there is considerable reason for telling the story of a worthy subject while that person still lives and breathes, whatever the obstacles. Relevance and even notoriety attach to the celebrity of the living, which is why publishers are always interested in writings on the famous: the public is always there.

In the world of classical music today only one figure can attract this kind of interest. Vladimir Horowitz is an historically great pianist. Despite his fame, he has made efforts