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I’m not a big sci-fi reader so the nearest analogue I can make for this is Ray Bradbury’s Martian Chronicles. It is a collection of short stories around an overarching story.

I started off liking this but became more and more irritated as I went on, until it became quite torturous. I wondered why this might be.

The stories are morbid and ironic, which would normally be a big hit with me, but as I went on it rang false to me. I think my central problem is this feels like a child wearing the clothes of a grown up. As a pretentious teenager I soon realised that being morbid and ironic could give me the thrill of feeling adult and vaguely profound.

But, just like me as a teenager, this book is very childish. All the adults are either just like children, or their only characterisation is via their children. This became irritating to me as I simply felt there was no insight here. The author was reaching for depth but I don’t think they succeeded.

I suppose it doesn’t help that I had the Martian Chronicles in my head. There is a book that, even though it is a bit dated, is incredibly humane and understands what makes people tick. This book by comparison can only seem facile.

Still, I have given it 3 stars for a reason. I’d say about four of the stories here are very good indeed, and I had high hopes.

I have no love for Frank Sinatra. I’m told he has an incredible voice, but his magic doesn’t work on me. But there is no denying that he is a formidable cultural figure and ranks up there with Presley and The Beatles. I just had to read a biography of Sinatra, because to understand him is to understand early pop music.

Kaplan has done an incredible job here. His tone is perfectly pitched. He has a lightly conversational style. He never pretends he’s walking through a narrative as it happens and happily explains the later relevance of whatever is happening. At the same time he uses the argot of that time and place to give us a sense of the time.

I read Guralnik’s biographies of Presley a short while ago and it is fascinating to see the comparisons between these two men. Only sons with timid fathers. Surrounded by posses of men and unable to get through the night without the company of a woman (any woman). Explosive tempers that terrified everyone around them, fuelled by uncertainty and wavering confidence. A stronger control of their music than many would credit them with driven by a powerful sense of who they should be. And the frequent use of pharmaceuticals.

If you are fascinated by music biographies then this is essential. I’m really looking forward to reading the second volume.