If you got here because I commented and you were directed to this blog, it is because Blogger will not show both blogs. So you can get to my Pat's Posts, by clicking this miscellany, the first blog while this is just about books.

Friday, December 28, 2012

Elvis and Me by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley

Priscilla at age 15 with Grandma Presley
I could not continue to torture myself further  by slogging through this trite writing in an excuse of a book published in 1985 and sold today at Graceland.  It has only 214 pages of which I read as far as pg 150; the best thing about the book are the photographs and the fact that I picked it up at a garage sale for only 50 cents, about 25 cents more than the worth of it.  It  is donated to the sale shelves next month.   Whoever told this woman she could write and that she would write this for their daughter is amazing. Bedding with Elvis and both using uppers and downers?  Perhaps the descriptions and too much detail turned me off from the start, she is a mere child when Elvis seeks her out while her family is in the Air Force in Germany.  That's when Elvis was in the Army there.  And her parents?  Well, what kind of people allow a 14 year old to go be with Elvis?  What kind of people allow extended overnight visits of a child with the man?  What kind of people allow her to live in the US while they are in Germany?  What kind of person allows herself to be dressed, heavily made up, beyond her years.  Yuck.  He sounds like a pervert.  She a star struck child set up for abuse.  Meantime, I'm thinking not a nice legacy for their daughter, but that's just my opinion.  I remember their marriage because as a teeny and preteen I and my friends listened to Elvis on  45 rpm records, loved the music.  Still love the music but this book, not so.  I give it less than a star but would have to go with a negative.  No stars and no further interest.   
Page 123, sums it up, an odd life that she and Elvis, had    "  There were nights when he slept restlessly, beset by worries and fears.  I lay silently beside him anxious about what he might be thinking and whether there was a place in his life for me....Lost in our separate miseries, we were unable to give each other strength or support.  He was controlled by his inability to take responsibility for his own life and for compro,isng his own standards--an I was controlled by him, compromising mine......"     

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