Superficially, “Miss O’Dell” appears to be a typical rock memoir. O’Dell and her famous friends — she worked for the Beatles’ Apple Corps and later tour-managed some of the biggest acts of the ’70s — consume staggering amounts of substances (did Ringo really do that much coke?) before and after sleeping with one another (she says she slept with Ringo). But the character you quickly care most about — more than Dylan, Clapton and the rest of the “Last Waltz” cast — is O’Dell herself. She is Nick Carraway to classic rock’s egotistical Gatsbys; she is, literally, the ignored “woman down the hall” in Joni Mitchell’s song “Coyote” (Sam Shepard was Coyote), and it must hurt to be the one to tell us. At the same time, O’Dell manages to be endearingly self-aggrandizing, like a Jane Austen heroine. Her writing (done with Katherine Ketcham) is brisk and excellent: the moment that Maureen Starkey, cheating on Ringo with his old band mate George, produces, in front of Ringo, George’s brand of cigarettes — Marlboros — could appear in a good novel. Sure, O’Dell bedded Mick and Bob, but who didn’t. Only O’Dell would dwell longest on her relationship with the semifamous pianist Leon Russell: “the first true love of my life, who rejected me before I had the good sense to leave.”

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