but she is not a writer. She regurgitates names who were at parties but she never really tells a story. She never captures the essence of any moment except maybe doing acid in San Francisco when she says, wow or something similarly inane. And in the end, she whines and whines about how little money she has while she’s telling of her trips around the world. And she claims, of course, that it was really her that both these men really always loved, which I’m thinking, you know, probably not.

I was really hoping for great things from this book. However, Pattie Boyd, former wife of both Beatle George Harrison and guitar god Eric Clapton, inspiration of such songs as “Wonderful Tonight,” “Layla,” “Something,” etc. gives barely a peek behind the curtain of greatness.

Pattie shares much, but holds back so much of what puts you in the moment. The book is a telling of those counterculture years and beyond, in a mostly strictly factual way. There is not much of a depth of emotion.

The famous guitar duel between Clapton and Harrison over Pattie is disappointedly described in a bare paragraph or two.

It would be wholly unfair to expect that because of these two men’s utter musical genius, their muse and wife would able to demonstrate a similar literary genius in order to tell their tales. But still. That’s what I had really wanted.