Some literary classics just aren't meant to be musicals. What book writer, for example, could do justice to the ambiguity and indirection of Henry James's late novels? Imagine a lyricist spinning Vladimir Nabokov's word wizardry into show tunes—"Lolita, light of my life" as a foot-stomping opening number. The greater the artistic work, the closer the relationship between form and content. Proust wrote prose (as opposed to pop operas) for a reason. Yet the more esteemed the fiction, the more likely it will have a second life swinging on... More >>>