I am not sure why the author wrote this book except to make money. It would seem the very crime he accuses Clapton of committing, he commits in this book- namely, not really loving what he is doing. The author indicates having sympathy for Clapton, but what comes across seems to be very distorted. While I do not know all the gossip about Clapton, this book reduces his life to simply adding up 'good' and 'bad' acts. Yes, Clapton by all reports was not a healthy adult (I don't know about now) and not well integrated. The author, rather then developing this lack of integration, becomes overly obessed with the 'bad Clapton'. If Clapton's playing was never anything but copying the old blues masters, how can the author complain that his newer music doesn't evoke the excitment and innovation of his earlier playing. You can't have it both ways. The author takes acts of kindness and indicates they are really self-serving acts. I don't want to defend Clapton, but rather wished the author would have viewed his subject in a neutral manner and integrated his upbring/childhood, how he dealth with life and how he made music as opposed to taking the easy way out by doing the 'Mommy Dearest' routine.