Ray Shackleford is a pushing-forty, unhappily married alcoholic stereo repairman living in Austin, Texas during 1989. His life is about as mediocre and dismal as it can get when something powerfully strange occurs. Ray begins to hear music in his head, he bigins to experience “glimpses” of the great rock ‘n’ roll albums that never happened. Ray cannot only “hear” this music, he can recreate it through this tape deck which turns the recording/bootleg industry on its collective ear. Ultimately, Ray transcends both time and space and visits the people and places during the late 60s functioning as a compelling influence for the completion of the classic albums that never were: The Get Back album instead of Let It Be by the Beatles, Smile instead of Smiley Smile by Beach Boy Brian Wilson, First Rays of the New Rising Sun in place of Rainbow Bridge and Cry of Love by Jimi Hendrix, and of great interest to The DCM, Celebration of the Lizard instead of Waiting for the Sun by The Doors.

After accidentally producing an alternate, non-Spectorized version of The Long and Winding Road by the Beatles, Ray Shackleford’s music connections bring him to a Rhino-like record company in LA called Carnival Dog Records. That’s right, named after a Morrison line in I Can’t See Your Face. When the Carnival Dog owner hears and believes the Beatles’ tape, he sends Shackleford back to the past to influence the final production of these other great albums that never existed. First choice? The Celebration of the Lizard.

Lewis Shiner is one of the new, young writers from the cyberpunk school, synthesizing hi-tech, pop culture, history and fantasy into another kind of science fiction you won’t find on Deep Space 9 or Babylon 5. Unfortunately, Shiner perpetuates the image of Morrison as a Major Drunken Asshole instead of Mr. Mojo Risin’ but creates dreamlike scenarios which he can control like an author controls the characters in a story, except at the end of this dreamstory there is a very real tape of music that was never recorded, that never really existed.

Shackleford’s first attempt at penetrating the Celebration sessions are unsuccessful. Morrison is too strong. On the second attempt Shackleford creates a tragic scene based loosely on fact when Morrison is arrested. Both the tragedy and arrest bring Jim to his senses; he sobers up, dries out and comes to the studio and perfectly lays down the 24-minute epic. The finished masterpiece as described by Shackleford was “another order of perfection. It breathes fire and blood and semen. It scares the living shit out of me.” And pretty much scares the living shit out of everyone else that hears it too.

There’s no denying that one of the deciding factors in scrapping Celebration was Morrison’s heavy drinking in and out of the studio. Another opinion states that Rothchild’s obsessive perfectionism killed whatever spontaneous creativity any of The Doors may have been experiencing during those sessions (e.g., 130 takes of the Unknown Soldier) until Morrison just plainly didn’t give a shit anymore and responded in kind by getting shit-faced most of the time. No one person or thing can be blamed, but probably a combination of things contributed to the aborted efforts of a completed Celebration. Shiner doesn’t touch on this aspect and zeros in on Jim.

For the most part, Shiner did his homework on the Celebration segment, but as Shackleford guides The Doors into producing the album, Orange County Suite, another Morrison song that was rejected about the same time is never mentioned, which would have earned the author an A++ for trivia completeness.

Except for a brief appearance at the end of the novel, that’s the last we see or hear of Jim and The Doors again. Sadly for Doors fans, the Celebration is neither as lengthy, in-depth or sympathetic as the Brian Wilson/Jimi Hendrix segments. In fact, Shiner spends a lot of time with Smile and the mysterious Wilson persona and for anyone who’s not much of a Beach Boys fan, maybe a little too much time. However, in spite of any surf music prejudices a reader might have, you’ll learn that Wilson’s first album Pet Sounds inspired McCartney for the Sgt. Pepper’s concept and if Wilson hadn’t been thrown so many curves from Mike Love and others, Smile would’ve been released at least six months before Sgt. Pepper’s and that may have been the signature album for the late 60s.

By the time Shackleford is ready to go back and retrieve First Rays of the New Rising Sun with Hendrix, he is stricken with health and personal problems. Totally enervated, Shackleford cannot permanently alter Hendrix’s past with predictable results: No album. Upon returning to present reality Shackleford realized, yes, it is the end when the music’s over, that the rock star must die when it’s time for the rock star to die and there’s really nothing left to do but smile.

Although The Doors’ segment is short, almost superficial, Glimpses is well worth the read. This is more than a science fiction story about rock ‘n’ roll—it’s also an examination of relationships between fathers and sons, wives and husbands, rock stars and their fans. All in all, Glimpses has got a good beat, you can dance to it and this reviewer gives it a 95.