What is greatness in music? Does it matter? Does there need to be a greatest composer in history?”

Anthony Tommasini, chief critic of The New York Times, poses these and more questions at the start of his fascinating, provocative and eminently readable new book, “The Indispensable Composers: A Personal Guide,” pointing out that “the field of classical music has justifiably been criticized for its obsession with greatness, with certifying a repertory of canonical masterpieces.”

The germ that sparked this book was a controversial series of articles the author wrote in 2011 on “The Top Ten Composers,” which solicited suggestions from the NYT readership and pleased practically no one, because some of everyone’s favorite composers were inevitably omitted from the list. Here, Mr. Tommasini gives 17 of his own choices, from Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643) to Igor Stravinsky, who died in 1971 — adding an epilogue in which he discusses composers whose works are too recent for us to know whether they will eventually fall into the “greatness” canon.

“What’s the big deal about Mozart? About Verdi?” Mr. Tommasini asks. “That’s what I’ve attempted to explain.”

In the interest of full disclosure, I admit that I can only write a subjective review of this very subjective book. Mr. Tommasini and I have much in common that has made my worldview of music akin to his. Although we have only met occasionally and under professional circumstances, and he’s a decade younger, we were both born in Brooklyn, grew up listening to early LP recordings, taking music lessons while being exposed to New York’s classical music scene, majored in music at an Ivy League college and went on to get doctorate degrees at Boston University.

When Mr. Tommasini cites Leo Schrade’s 1950 Monteverdi biography to support the thesis that this composer was the seminal figure responsible for the coming of “modern” music, I recall that book as one of my musical bibles from college days — it still sits prominently on my shelf. I, too, would name Monteverdi as the first of the “great” composers. I could use the chapter on Monteverdi as notes for my own lectures on the birth of opera and the early Baroque without committing plagiarism. It contains everything I think an audience needs to know about the subject. Later in the book, Mr. Tommasini’s explanation of Schoenberg and the development of the so-called 12-tone system is likewise brilliant and succinct.

I don’t concur with all of Mr. Tommasini’s choices. My own top 17 composers might overlap with his by nine or 10 — I particularly disagree with his gushing assessment of Puccini, for example. Nor would I place Brahms as high as he does, but I can see where he’s coming from.

Beyond Mr. Tommasini’s wide range of musical expertise, he is a compelling and colorful writer who can define musical terms succinctly for the layman — counterpoint, meter, recitative — without losing touch with the professional musician. He is a master of finding just the right adjective to describe a work or a performance — a particularly important skill for a music critic. “A colossal piece,” “a titanic score,” “a fine soprano,” “a master pianist,” “a slightly fractured yet skittish and charming dance.” He also has the unique perspective shared by all long-time music critics: He has heard more music in more performances than almost anyone else, layman or professional.

Each composer is given a brief initial evaluation: the reason that Mr. Tommasini has chosen him. The author points out that, “alas, this gallery of greats is an all-male club …. Classical music during its formative centuries was especially uninviting to aspiring women composers.” He goes on to outline each composer’s life, including detailed descriptions of the works he considers protean to that composer’s significance. Many of the works are seen through the prism of the author’s own accomplished pianism, and his descriptions can be tantalizing. Several sent me scurrying to check out a piece I thought I knew well — to the printed score, YouTube or a recording that I already own. He is also refreshingly frank about gay issues in the composers’ biographies, as well as the effects of his own early conflicts about being gay and coming out.

What comes through consistently and unequivocally is Mr. Tommasini’s love for music and sense of adventure in listening to (as well as performing) it. Summing up Schoenberg, he concludes that the best 12-tone music “can offer a chance to take a leap, to enjoy denying your ear tonal grounding, to bask for a while in a realm beyond tonality and … hear the alternative coherence and logic of this new language …. Being a music lover should never involve an either-or choice.” Who can argue with that!

Robert Croan is a Pittsburgh Post-Gazette senior editor.

First Published: January 13, 2019, 5:00 p.m.