The word "diva" can sound pejorative, but Meredith Ochs argues that being a diva is a point of pride — at least, if you're Aretha Franklin.

Aretha embodied the word diva in every posible sense, from its classical origins (of which she'd proven capable with her stunning aria at the Grammys), to its application in R&B and pop, to its colloquial use to describe demanding talent, to the humorous aspect of being recognized solely by one's own given name. "You're in this very rare category...all you have to do is say the first name: Aretha is here," talk show host Conan O'Brien joked with her on his show in 2002. "I think only you and I are in this category."

One of the dozens of fantastic photos in Ochs's new coffee-table book depicts the instantly-iconic lineup of the original VH1 Divas Live concert in 1998: Mariah Carey, Gloria Estefan, Carole King, Shania Twain, and Céline Dion, with Franklin out in front where she belongs. She sang two songs from her then-new album A Rose is Still a Rose, but didn't allow either performance to be released on home video. A diva has rights, you know.

Franklin's incomparable career is a well we'll all be returning to forever, so there's really no single right or wrong place to begin. Wherever you are on your Franklin fan journey, you'll enjoy Aretha: The Queen of Soul — A Life in Photographs. Running 144 pages with 85 photos, the book spans Franklin's career.

It doesn't proceed chronologically, but it does begin where it must: in Detroit, Franklin's lifelong home base. There are photos including a cherubic young Franklin with her first husband Ted White (1961), an absolutely regal family portrait of Franklin in 1971 with her father and sister, and an amazing shot of Franklin having a salad lunch at the beach with her road manager Ken Cunningham (the father of Franklin's youngest son).

The next chapter is titled "Reinvention," a tribute to Franklin's adaptability. She's best known as the late '60s game-changer, but Ochs reminds us that Franklin also had an early-career standards period (she loved Motown, but chose instead to sign with the more prestigious Columbia, later Atlantic and Arista). A 1970 portrait captures her in stunning orange headscarf, and there she is in 1980 — all business rocking a suit jacket for the cover of Aretha.

Some of the most gloriously unexpected shots capture Aretha in the '80s, as she enjoyed a commercial resurgence. She has a denim jacket to match Dave Stewart's (the Queen's is bedazzled) at a studio session for her Eurythmics collaboration "Sisters Are Doin' It For Themselves," and the zebra-print bodysuit she wore to pose with Keith Richards in 1987 has to be seen to be believed. (She accessorized with a black leather jacket, frosted tips, and a Yamaha keyboard slung over her shoulder.)

Famously, Franklin could rock a hat like few others. The book's back cover is devoted, as it should be, to a shot of her singing "My Country, 'Tis of Thee" at Obama's 2009 inauguration in that amazing Detroit-designed grey pillbox. Elsewhere, she sings in a peacock-feather number so expansive it shades her face; a fur hood cradles her mane at Bill Clinton's 1993 inauguration.

While the photos are the heart of this book, Ochs — a busy music writer whose previous books include a 2018 Bruce Springsteen biography — chronicles Franklin's achievements with accessible and well-organized prose. She describes how Franklin always knew what she was worth, and, by extension, what the art of black women was worth. When her Atlantic contract expired in the early '70s, Ochs notes, she asked $5 million to renew. "They offered $3 million, then $4 million. Aretha's response? She upped her ask to $6 million, and she got it."

The book also quotes tributes by other luminaries. Etta James, for example, recalls a conversation from the early '60s.

I remember running into Sarah Vaughan, who always intimidated me. Sarah said, "Have you heard of this Aretha Franklin girl?" I said, "You heard her do 'Skylark,' didn't you?" Sarah said, "Yes, I did, and I'm never singing that song again."

One of the most unexpected posthumous tributes came from another legendary diva, albeit from a very different walk of life. "Just as Aretha's funeral was about to commence," writes Ochs, "Queen Elizabeth II had the Band of the Welsh Guards perform 'Respect,' much to the surprise and delight of summer tourists gathered outside Buckingham Palace to observe the Changing of the Guard."

Game respects game.