It makes no attempt to be comprehensive, and there’s no real narrative. Which may be the key: this isn’t a biography, as such. It would be strange to read a biography of Beethoven or the Beatles that told of their personal lives but largely elided the music.
If it’s a writer you’ll expect to read about their books a politician, their victories and defeats a general their battles. But in the case of a creative person - or really any person worthy of a biography - a key part of the story of their life is their works. “The man and his relationships” sounds like an important set of themes to address in a biography. But my disappointment with the book is more about the complete focus on the man and his relationships, almost to the exclusion of the music. So he comes across as a far from pleasant character. Who could blame him for stepping off he wagon at a time like that? He didn’t drink for seventeen years, and the opening chapter tells us that when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer he had a scotch. Alcoholics Anonymous helped him to stop, though he eventually stopped going to meetings. Most of his bad behaviour happened while he was an alcoholic - or while he was drinking, I suppose I should say, since the standard twelve-step narrative is that you never stop being one. Which is fine, not least since the author - his wife and the mother of one of his children - is a major one of those people. A lot of this biography, though, is concerned with the people he hurt. And anyway, those tales are a dime a dozen in rock’n’roll. I knew of the tales of wild and crazy behaviour, though I hadn’t actually read any of them - except inasmuch as they come out in the songs. I’m not sure I’d call Warren Zevon a hero, but he’s definitely a hugely respected and much missed singer and songwriter. You know how they say you shouldn’t meet your heroes? Well it turns out that sometimes that includes not meeting them between the pages of a book.