My Mama, Cass contains a good bit too much filler ... There are also some infelicitous prose stylings ... And there are a few too many details about Elliot-Kugell’s life and not nearly enough about her mother’s. When she’s short on facts, Owen speculates about how Cass must have felt or thought about this or that. The strain shows. Still, Cass comes across as smart and ambitious, with an uncanny ability to pair performers who would sound good together.
A unique perspective from the daughter of a rock star. General audiences will get a fresh glimpse into the manipulative music business, which demanded ceaseless hard work, personal sacrifices, and a determined focus on glittery celebrity.
An earnest if incomplete portrait ... Unfortunately, the narrative’s loose ends lend it an unfinished feel, and while Elliot-Kugell promises that "questions asked in" her mother’s lifetime "receive their answers in mine," the answers are anticlimactic or incomplete.
Much of the narrative is rather by the numbers, and the prose is largely workmanlike ... Well intended and of some interest to fans, but a footnote in musical and pop-myth history.
