The age old aphorism tells us not to judge a book by its cover.
Well, I am kind of ashamed (both as a teacher and as a lover of music/books/
High Fidelity) to admit that I judged this book--not by its cover, but by its title.
It seemed like a really stupid title the first time I heard it, and it got me so disinterested that I only got around to reading the book last week, even though it was released in September.
Little did I know that the title was not referring to some naked lady, but rather, to a stripped down version of a fictional album. And, having read the book, I have to say, the title is perfect.
Juliet, Naked is consistently, beautifully, Nick Hornby. It fuels that little need we crazed music fans have of being reassured: it's not so bad being single. Our record collections keep us company, and, indeed, are often the driving force behind many a break up.
How can we love somebody who can't appreciate our most intense musical loves? Well, it goes both ways. I guess some people are sick of people like us--people who obsess over every little detail of (what seems to them is just) some band.
Juliet, Naked gives voices to all of our exes, all of the ones who just didn't get what all of the fuss is about.
The story follows two men who fallen from grace, through the eyes of the woman and album which tie them together.
One, Duncan, had spoiled 15 years of his girlfriend Annie's life with mediocrity and childlessness.
The other, Tucker Crowe (modeled after Bob Dylan) had been lounging around for about the same amount of time--after the release of his groundbreaking breakup album
Juliet and his subsequent abandonment of musicianship.
Both men had fallen from grace, and are united by two things--the first being Annie and the second:
Juliet, the album which Tucker disregards as proof of his own sham as a human being.
The world of fiction gives us the happy coincidence that this is the very album which Duncan had been obsessively poring over for years. He creepily cites himself as a "Croweologist", and posts a gushing review of the recently released acoustic session version of the album, which they dub
Juliet Naked. Meanwhile, he had been neglecting his live-in girlfriend Annie, who thinks that
Naked is a piece of shit, and says so in a scathing review which she posts on the website dedicated to Crowe. This review just happens to be the thing which gets Tucker's fire going again. And so continues the delicate relationship between our hearts and our ears, and the effects we unknowingly bestow on those whom we love--or, sometimes, those who make the music in the first place.
The one criticism I have of this book is that there are a few moments when there are too many characters involved (specifically the hospital scenes with all of Tucker's children). Hornby is best when he observes two or three characters in detail, which he does throughout most of the book. Other than that, I really loved it. It's honest about the mess that is the human heart, and it resonates so well with the music enthusiasts which it offhandedly criticizes.
Back to to my opening thought of "don't judge a book by its cover". The most ironic thing of it all is the fact that I actually really love the cover of this book. It's one of those double images things. I didn't pick up on it until I saw the book in front of me (initially, I only saw the headphones). So it goes to show you, you really should never judge a book by something as arbitrary as its cover--or its title.
I really recommend taking a break from your crazy musical fandom and taking the time to read this book if you haven't already. It'd make a great gift too, if you're still stumped on any xmas gifts.
Regina Spektor - Apres Moi [mp3]buy the book on
AMAZON
