This is probably one of most badly written books I’ve read in a very long time. It’s only because I wanted to know the history of the band that I stuck with it. It’s not just badly written, but it’s also a fawning hagiography, that feels more like a vapid press release from Brian May’s office than critical and intelligent assessment of the band. On the one hand there’s too much detail; almost every gig and recording session is listed, but without any critical assessment. There’s nothing about the music, or what the band members thought of the music, or any disagreements they might have had. The characterisation of the main players is cardboard; you don’t get any sense of them as fully rounded people. There’s so much rock star excess and ego ignored. It would have made for a fantastic story if only the authors had the guts to tell it. If only Queen had a Philip Norman or Ian Leslie to write about them. I guess my own assessment of them as a band hasn’t changed, I still think they were one of the most talented group of musicians ever to come together, who made four excellent, world class, rock albums up to A Night At The Opera, but then settled into a rut of releasing perfectly crafted top 10 singles along with uninspired and mostly filler albums.