Carol ann harris todays weather

First off, I feel compelled to say that there were many passages in this book that were very well written, to the point where I found it difficult to believe that this lady, not a trained or experienced writer, could put such down on paper (or in electrons). There was some very nicely phrased writing, here and there.

With that compliment out of the way, this book was agonizing to read, and I am embarrassed to say that I completed it. Similar to the 'Making of Rumours' book by engineer Ken Caillat, but orders of magnitude worse, this book was all about the author. This woman simply could not say enough about how she was a 'part' of Fleetwood Mac. Clearly, she was, at the time, and remained, at the time of the book's writing, impressed with herself. For what earthly reason, one can only guess. She was merely 'there' contributing nothing but, apparently, to serve as a punching bag for Lindsey Buckingham. The writing became so repetitive and cloying that despite a desire to see how it all turned out, it was painful to continue on to the next page and read more of the same drivel. I must say, however, that one should not expect anything more from a book written by someone who claimed a desire to be an audio engineer, and further claimed to have some expertise in the field at age 22, when she obviously couldn't tell her posterior from a hole in the ground. Yes, sour grapes from someone who should have put the book down within the first 50 pages, as any hope that the book would improve was lost at every turn.

The melodrama couldn't be be any greater, the hyperbole of everything she encountered could not have been greater. Because of this, any descriptions of things that may have genuinely had a serious impact on the author, like the episodes of violence she purported to experience at the hands of the brilliant but presumably unbalanced genius guitarist of Fleetwood Mac, Mr Buckingham, should be met with skepticism, perhaps not about whether they happened, but surely whether severity was even remotely close to how she described them. When small, insignificant things are described as monumental, there is nowhere left to go when describing things more significant. Thus, the book rapidly becomes tiresome, as does her incessant fawning over Mr. Buckingham and her impressive narcissism. If, however, you want to read what is most likely a fairy tale based on some level of reality, and want to try to get a feel of life with a rock star, this might be an okay read. If you're looking for a realistic account of what this kind of lifestyle is/was like, I'm guessing this would be far down an a list of such tomes.