June 29, 2015
In this fast-paced, irreverent biography, British GQ editor Jones grapples with the Lizard King, tracking back from his funeral bed at Père Lachaise to the Manhattan apartment of his partner, writer Patricia Kennealy (they were extralegally married in a Celtic ceremony). Morrison, the son of a high-ranking naval officer, rebelled against the confines of his peripatetic military household, escaping into romantic literature and substance abuse. After leaving UCLA's film school, he drifted into the bohemian undertow of Los Angeles, where a chance meeting with Ray Manzarek led to the formation of the Doors. Clad in skintight leather, Morrison appealed to teenyboppers as well as L.A.'s drug users, and quickly became an international sensation. Ambivalent about his fame but nonetheless enabled by it, Morrison descended into alcoholism and became a charter member of the "27 Club" by way of heroin overdose. Refreshingly, Jones doesn't cater to the exaggerations of the Morrison myth, and his wry analysis provides the lucid center of the book. However, readers looking for a thorough investigation of the moment that produced the Doors or deep insights into the troubled singer will be disappointed; Jones tends toward unsupported generalizations and relies on attitude to make his arguments. This is a fair and extremely readable account of a distant era when Lizard Kings walked the earth and prodigious justifications were provided for their bad behavior.