Eric Erlandson’s literary debut, Letters To Kurt, begins with promise, like his music career did. In a four-page introduction, he concisely yet eloquently sums up his prickly, substance-fueled relationship with his former lover and Hole bandmate Courtney Love—and, of course, touches lightly upon his friendship with Kurt Cobain, the book’s titular focal point. But that introduction is grossly misleading. From there, Erlandson drops whatever potential his premise has off a cliff and straight into a junk heap of juvenile, Beat-aping, stream-of-consciousness twaddle, mixed with tedious egocentrism ironically dressed up as egolessness.
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