From ancient times to the 21st century musicians and artists have shared one thing in common: they lack inhibitions. The average person does not feel compelled to jump up in front of crowds and impress them with their ability to entertain. Nor do they pour out their deepest feelings in print, paint, film etc. for all to see. Given that the creative person lacks the inhibitions common to the common man, it should not be surprising to find that this lack of inhibitions often leads to excesses of one stripe or another. Of all the creative types whose biographies I have read, Elvis Presley takes the cake for the most messed up.
He was a pervert, a glutton, a drug addict, a liar, an egoist, who was shy, generous, a pathological momma's-boy, a homophobe, extremly sensitive, a practical-joker, a shopaholic, a clotheshorse, a new age mystic, a book worm, a party animal, a fashion sophisticate, a capbale actor an musician who became satisfied with output he himself deemed "crap," very very image-savy, crazily dedicated to his fans...the dude was a complex mess.
However, I would not read this book, unless you like pseudo soft-core porn. The authors convey Elvis' story through a narrative that at times sounds like a Harlequin romance novel.