Light My Fire: My Life with the Doors

There were two different Jim Morrisons, says Ray Manzarek, whose vision along with Morrison's created the group, and whose organ playing helped distinguish its sound. There was the Good Jim. Poetic. Artistic. Polite. So unselfish he suggested the group split all royalties and songwriting credits equally although he wrote most of the songs and was responsible for the group's singular image. Drenched in the modern and avant-garde culture of the previous century. Possessor of a huge literary bookshelf which he knew so intimately he would win repeated bets that he could identify a book pulled from its shelf, just by hearing a few lines read from it at random. Possessed of a special Dionysian spirit that Ray saw as one of the unique forces of the 1960s, and of a desire to lead others to it. Ray thought an artist ought to be president some day, and that Morrison, with his good looks, WASP roots and Native American shaman vision, might just be the guy. Then there was the Bad Jim, a persona Manzarek dubs "Jimbo" - a drunk with a mean streak and racist tendencies, who sought to destroy the Good Jim's poetic voice. Manzarek, married to a Japanese-American, felt this acutely. Alcohol brought Jimbo to the fore. Over the Doors' short lifespan - releasing albums from 1967 to 1971, with their touring curtailed after Morrison's 1969 obscenity bust in Miami - his bandmates found him increasingly difficult to work with, and never knew on a given day if poetic Jim or drunk Jimbo would show up. When Morrison died in Paris in 1971, a death certificate attested merely that he'd died because his heart had stopped. Most likely, he had by age 27 drunk himself to death, perhaps aided by heroin. Jimbo had won out. The good Jim is worth remembering. Doors music still resonates 40 years later because it was truly creative, and Jim Morrison was a large part of what made them special. Art rock as a movement is usually placed in the 1970s, but the Doors were ahead of the wave, with a sound and vision spawned in 1965 while the Beatles and Beach Boys were still dominating the airwaves with teen music. Manzarek and Morrison met at the UCLA Film School. Primarily a musician, Manzarek says he was drawn to film as a medium because it drew on all the arts. His wife was an artist. Morrison, with no musical background, was a poet. The three of them, living together for a spell, drenched themselves in art of every sort. Early stoners and acid heads, they were genuinely in pursuit of the muse. There lurks a suspicion nowadays that modernism, in every genre, is bogus, allowing the untalented, unschooled and unskilled to rip off the unsuspecting. Think of every ridiculous modern "artwork" whose creator ever conned an art museum into devoting prime space to it - when all it was, was an entire canvas painted orange. Or a red one with a green dot in the middle. Or a sneaker nailed to a canvas. Something that made you think, "I could have done that. But why would I have wasted the tim

I've never read a book like this before. This book is almost unreadable but it's insightful. It's also very, very heavy in the metaphysical so be ready! This is the best account of the inner-workings of The Doors: how the songs were formed, etc. and Jim's personality. And who better to recount it than Ray? I had always figured Jim was absent-minded or scatter-brained but Jim actually connected with people well, especially Ray (at least in the early days). And he made perfect sense when he wasn't smashed. Ray does gloss over a lot of things like how he hooked Dorothy (wife) and he hardly mentions Pamela Courson or Patricia Kenneally. He details the day he met his wife then the next mention of the two is when they're living together in Venice Beach. He doesn't mention his child. I figured this was a Ray Manzarek autobiography so I'm going to get to read what kind of family man Ray is. He doesn't spend a lot of time talking about travel and concert playing except for the concerts that went wrong. Ray doesn't chronicle anything in the book extremely too heavy, not the way Patricia Kenneally did in her book. She almost had a day-to-day, blow-by-blow account of things. This isn't really like that. He does go into the intervention he tried with Jim which was interesting. There is way, way, way too much attempt at description, metaphor, analogy, imagery. Overuse of adjectives. Ray is deeper than a whole monastery of Tibetan monks put together. Ray doesn't stop with one description. He goes on and on, two times over, five times over, ten. He does this with everything in the book! Every few sentences! Tangents, tangents, tangents! The reader is completely drowned (like the Bismark) in the English language and Eastern words/phrases. I thought "oh my god, stop!". (But as Jim wrote "Take it as it comes!"). In passing, Ray said he would drop in on Jim where he lived near school and there was a cafe nearby where everyone hung out. He then proceeds to spend half a page describing this cafe: the entire menu, the ingredients of the tacos, the smells, the drinks, the cook, the decor, etc. He also does this when he describes his LSD trips. Halfway thru the book Ray says that Jim and an old buddy who was a soldier were moving in with him and Dorothy. Then all of a sudden he goes "oh yeah, I spent two years in the military and I did this and that, and went here and there" and on and on. He is all over the place. I felt like Ray was trying to make me trip without ever having me swallow a pill. For every sentence I read in the first half of the book I had to skip at least fifty more. Putnam must have pulled a hell of an all-nighter to edit this book (they must have called up the entire payroll for this). The only reason I finished this book was because of the great stories and to understand how Jim truly was around people. Patricia Kenneally made him out to be a complete sex and booze fiend and I knew there had to be more to him than that. I mean those songs didn't

Of all the books I've read about The Doors, my favorite has always been "No One Here Gets Out Alive," by Jerry Hopkins and Danny Sugerman. Until now. Now, unequivocally, it's "Light My Fire: My Life With The Doors," by Ray Manzarek, the keyboard player and co-founder (along with Jim Morrison) of The Doors. What makes this book so great is that Manzarek has a way of making you feel like you're there with him, and Morrison and the others, as he recounts that magical, psychedelic period of time between 1965 and 1971. As he puts it: "In that year we had an intense visitation of energy. That year lasted from the summer of 1965 to July 3, 1971." And as he writes, he as much as welcomes you into their lives, sharing their most intimate and personal moments. You're there with them on the beach in Venice, California, when Morrison first mentions to his friend Ray that he's been writing some songs; and it is in that moment that "The Doors" are born, and you're there, and it's as if it is one of your own memories. Manzarek writes with such obvious joy and fondness of this period of time in his life; of his memories of Jim Morrison, the charismatic and enigmatic poet whom he loved as a brother and still misses to this day; of his then girlfriend (now wife of all these many years), Dorothy Fujikawa, whom he adores; of finding guitarist Robby Krieger and drummer John Densmore and making The Doors a reality; and it's all done with such a Bradburyesque style and flair that by the time you're through you feel as though you're one of them, part of that unique inner-circle of friends. Of course, there's the down side, too, about which he is equally as candid as he is about the rest of it. How devastating it was, for example, to watch Jim Morrison's decline, his descent into the void of the bottle; how it began and why, and the reasons neither he, nor anyone, could help Morrison. He discusses quite frankly how his friend, Jim, the gentle poet with an exuberant love for life, would become "Jimbo," the self-destructive, counter-productive redneck. But throughout, Manzarek manages to remain upbeat and positive, concentrating on the love and good times, debunking many of the myriad myths about Morrison and the others, while painting an intimate portrait of who The Doors really were, and are. "Light My Fire," is poignant, incisive and alive; it is one of those books you are sorry to see come to an end. Like the short life of Jim Morrison, it's a shame there isn't any more.

Ray Manzarek's well articulated book about The Doors, was a gentle and descriptive look into the chaos and style that surrounded the era of rock n' roll in the 60's. The mystery surrounding his friend's demise (Jim Morrison) was written about non judgmentally and touching, without the bitterness I've read in other books. His sad description of the grief Pamela Courson was going after Jim Morrison's death negated the "Jim is a monster" books that abound. Writing about himself, Ray was able to come across as an intelligent artist without blowing his own horn, so to speak.I'm glad I read this book. It was well worth the wait.According to John Densmore, Ray was responsible for Jim's death. To this I say, grow up John.

Having been a lifelong Doors fan from age 11 (1966), I found the book to be thoroughly enjoyable. Having also read almost every other book written about the band I particularly appreciated the unique insights that only Ray could provide. The details and nuances of how the songs were written and recorded, down to keys, chords and inspirations for the actual licks and riffs the band played. I also particularly enjoyed the excitement that Ray captures as the Doors were born and sky-rocketed to the top. It recalls the actual feelings I had the first time I heard "Light My Fire" and looked at the radio and said - "Whoa, what a sound! A song like I've never heard before!" The very human and touching recollections, feelings and the descriptions of the real Jim Morrison that none of us will sadly ever know are captured here like no other author could have. The sadness and loss all Doors fans felt when we heard Jim had died are also powerfully portrayed. I like other reviewers felt the book should and could have been longer. Maybe the writing of the end times was just too emotionally draining for Ray that he had to end it. I also really enjoyed the descriptions of Ray's life in Chicago, how he discovered the blues and jazz and how they contributed to his unique keyboard style which was the essence of the band with the most unique sound of any band from that era. Those readers who disliked the "preaching" aspect of the book should perhaps be less defensive and really listed to what Ray is saying about life, love and philosophy. Much is to be learned here that could benefit our modern times. To this day I am proud of the fact that a Doors song has never been used for a commercial, they way so many great songs have been, and I hope Ray and the other Doors never let that happen, as Jim so effectivly did (described by Ray - i.e.; Buick/Light My Fire). All in all - a great book for Doors fans or anyone who wants to know what the 60s were really like and to learn the inspiration behind the art of the Doors. Thanks Ray!