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jazzfishCrystal Zevon, I'll Sleep When I'm Dead: The Dirty Life and Times of Warren Zevon
When Warren Zevon was diagnosed with mesothelioma in 2002, he told his ex-wife Crystal that he wanted her to tell his story: the whole story, warts and all, not whitewashing any of it. And let me tell you, those are some warts.
The book she ended up with is a 400-page tome that reads like an extended Behind the Music special. Transcribed paragraphs from interviews left in the voice of the interviewee intersperse with bits of Warren's diaries and the very occasional narrative transition. It works quite well: as in the best interviews, the personality of the interviewee shines through as a complement to what they're saying. You're left with multiple, sometimes contradictory, views of the subject.
Which is all too appropriate for a subject like Warren Zevon: mercurial, brooding, generous, drunk, given to fits of temper and pique, and absolutely bloody brilliant in several senses.
In particular, she paints an unflinching, though sympathetic, view of Warren's alcoholism. I won't say "battle with alcoholism," because once he decided to actively seek treatment he seems to have stopped without a whole lot of fuss. "Other people's battle with Warren's alcoholism" might be more appropriate.
In all it was a fascinating portrait of one of my favorite artists, and a look at the intersection of fame and alcoholism in the party culture of 1970s LA. Mostly enjoyable if uncomfortable at times.
When Warren Zevon was diagnosed with mesothelioma in 2002, he told his ex-wife Crystal that he wanted her to tell his story: the whole story, warts and all, not whitewashing any of it. And let me tell you, those are some warts.
The book she ended up with is a 400-page tome that reads like an extended Behind the Music special. Transcribed paragraphs from interviews left in the voice of the interviewee intersperse with bits of Warren's diaries and the very occasional narrative transition. It works quite well: as in the best interviews, the personality of the interviewee shines through as a complement to what they're saying. You're left with multiple, sometimes contradictory, views of the subject.
Which is all too appropriate for a subject like Warren Zevon: mercurial, brooding, generous, drunk, given to fits of temper and pique, and absolutely bloody brilliant in several senses.
In particular, she paints an unflinching, though sympathetic, view of Warren's alcoholism. I won't say "battle with alcoholism," because once he decided to actively seek treatment he seems to have stopped without a whole lot of fuss. "Other people's battle with Warren's alcoholism" might be more appropriate.
In all it was a fascinating portrait of one of my favorite artists, and a look at the intersection of fame and alcoholism in the party culture of 1970s LA. Mostly enjoyable if uncomfortable at times.