Feet of clay?

Review: Rudolf Nureyev by Julie Kavanagh

The review is not a pleasant read, heaven only knows what the book is like.

I find it disappointing when posthumously biographies are written to reveal that a genius is a terribly flawed human being. I think we all know that no one is perfect, and that having superhuman skills is not equivalent to being a super human. I'm not much of a ballet fan, and I have no regrets at not having seen Nureyev live. From I see on the TV he was something special, and I don't think an exposé of his personality and of his private life can change my feelings about his dancing.

And yet, simply in writing this blog post, in reading the review, I am proving my insatiable thirst for salacious gossip. the more scandalous the behaviour, the more interesting the read.