An attempt--with erratic wit, hearty research, and excessive palaver about matters sexual--to rectify one of history's great vandalisms: the destruction (by his executors) of Byron's memoirs. Nicole's Byron, though cranky about the way society has trammeled his free spirit, comes clean about his self-indulgent escapades, and we are given the whole Byron shebang--sensitive childhood as a poor, aristocratic cripple; debt-ridden and sex-obsessed adolescence; first trip to Greece; publication and notoriety; Lady Caroline Lamb, half-sister Augusta, three dozen or so others; marriage, incest, exile, Shelley, and the fatal return to Greece. It is a Byron's eye view of things, all right: never too occupied with poetry, finance, or liberalism to be distracted from the Almighty Self. ""How few people understand that their own puny lives count as nothing in the great onward march of humanity""--it's never clear to what degree Nicole (previously associated with pulpy historical romances) means such Byronic overkill as tongue-in-cheekery. More distracting still is the 20th-century-style graphic approach to Byronic sex: blow by blow--with whips, sometimes--among girls in the harem or boys in the monastery. There's far less creative detail when it comes to fending off Levantine bandits, speaking in the House, or writing a poem or two. Still, Byron-watchers will find some inventive explanations for biographical developments (was his marriage a disaster because he'd been spoiled by too many nymphomaniacs?) and about as much style and energy as one can expect from this sort of semi-creative reconstruction.