Okay, so Volume 2 picks up where the first left off, diving deeper into the tangled love lives of composers you’ve definitely hummed but might not know much about. Hughes covers them one by one—figures like Liszt, Paganini, Berlioz, and more—but instead of listing dates and concert halls, he focuses on their wild romantic adventures. Some got into public feuds over a single glance; others wrote hours of opera to win someone over. The structure is this: each chapter zooms in on that one relationship.

The Story

The story isn't about music theory or who was the best. It’s about the *people* behind the musician masks. For example, Franz Liszt storms the stage but also can’t stop making everyone—enemies included—fall in love with him. Then there’s the incredible, awkward situation of Berlioz trying to outrun his obsessive crush by composing ‘Symphonie Fantastique.’ Everything they did is linked to a woman or a fight. It’s a history book, but it reads like a dinner party you’re not allowed to leave.

Why You Should Read It

Honestly? Because you’ll see your own life reflected in people who were just as silly in love as anyone. I finished a chapter on Schumann and decided his melodic sadness broke me. This book asks raw questions: Did suffering create the art, or was it simply a result of bad decisions? Some sections are shocking how candid they are—liaisons we’d be pilloried for today (and maybe should be). But Hughes’s style stays charming and slightly deadpan, never moralizing on the page. He shares these secret affairs like a friend over coffee. Yet there’s depth underneath, reminding me that creative drive often gets tied with emotional panic. This lands with a different power than modern self-help—it’s unscripted truth.

Final Verdict

The book heads for music lovers, but also suits anyone longing for biography written with fizz and informality.

Perfect for: Classical fans who get bored of starched suits, history readers who like it lean, romance folklore conneisseurs hoping for the backstory of a famous violin piece—or anyone enjoying a pitch-perfect browse set. Or, just us gossipers.

Skip if: You want music instruction or biographical distance. It’s purpose-lit. I finished the final chapter laughing, then mourning those wasted loves—and through it, saw things in ‘Moonlight Sonata’ I missed entirely. And that, right there, is why this volume matters.