Fanboy reading: "Juliet Naked" by Nick Hornby

The second audiobook of the return journey from our Italian holidays, was an unabridged version of the 2009 novel by Nick Hornby. That makes nine hours of listening. Whence one of our problems with this book: the car journey during which we would listen to it could not plausibly last more than six, even taking it easy and with one moderate traffic jam en route. Solution? A prolonged lie-in the next day to complete the story. Yes, and if that is not an upfront recommendation, I don't know what is.

A novelty of this audiobook (for me, anyway) is that it is the first I have heard featuring different readers. This makes sense, as the story is told alternately from the point of view of its three main characters. Had I realised, I might have had my doubts, but in fact the trick works well, notwithstanding some slightly odd English accents from the American narrator. But let's get down to the book.

This is a novel with many Hornby tropes. The superbly depicted forty-something English-obsessive music fan, the understanding of the emotional power of popular music, the subtlety of understanding of how people together tick, expressed with understatement and humour, the fond depiction of ordinariness, the refusal to slip into easy-romantic outcomes. Like Hornby? You'll like this.

Annie and Duncun are locked into a going-nowhere 15 year relationship, living in a dreary (but affectionately-depicted) Northern seaside town - the real-world model for which, by the way, I have the strong impression I know well. One reason for the stasis is that there are three people in the relationship, Duncan, Annie and a 1980s American singer-songwriter, Tucker Crowe, of whom Duncan is the biggest fan. Annie accepts this - "like a disability" - and, albeit with greater lucidity and objectivity, shares an admiration for Crowe's work, notably his seminal album, Juliet, in which the musician relates his affair and breakup with a famous Hollywood beauty and after which he abruptly ceased producing new music. Duncan is a leading "Crowologist", first among equals in an online community of (99% male) fans who obsessively analyse Crowe's work on a website Duncan has set up, and whose admiration for their hero is only magnified by the mysterious disappearance from view of their hero. The novel opens with a hilariously depicted US vacation, during which Annie and Duncan visit sites of significance in Crowe's career, not least (i) the Minnesota mens' toilet where Crowe seemingly underwent the epiphany which ended his career and (ii) a visit to Juliet's Beverley Hills residence. 


The dam begins to break when Duncan receives through the post an advance copy of a CD (the medium is already self-consciously retro) of Crowe's first new release in years: an unplugged, demo version of Juliet, entitled Juliet Naked. Goaded by the lèse-Duncan of Annie having listened to the CD before him - a self-conscious act of rebellion - as well as being driven by a manic desire to steal a march on his fellow Crowologists, Duncan posts an ecstatic review of Juliet Naked, proclaiming its superiority to the acknowledgedly superb Juliet. Annie, continuing her rebellion, decides to post her own rookie review, actually far more astute and perceptive, indirectly cutting through Duncan's holier-than-thou fanboy purism to point out the superiority of the finished product over the rough cut. Her reward, totally out of the blue, is an email from Tucker Crowe himself, appreciative of her discernment and non-fandom. 

At this point, we could get into standard-issue rom-com territory, but Hornby is better than that. Yes, Tucker becomes part of Annie's and Duncan's lives, but it is done with a superbly light and nuanced touch. Tucker is not quite what we expect, nor are there straightforward answers to the questions that face all of the principal characters. But getting to the non-straightforward answers takes through some memorable and frequently hysterical set-pieces.

Nick Horby

Like so much of Hornby's work, this is a story of characters who need to grow up. This is obviously true of fan-boy Duncan, trapped in his classically hornby-esque and rather post-juvenile geek fandom, but also of Tucker Crowe, serially unable to hold down a relationship or even understand his own (dormant) talent and art, and indeed Annie, whose escape from immobilism comes largely in spite of herself. Gloriously, her long fantasised-about meeting with Tucker sees her wretchedly watching herself sliding into the role of nagging, know-better partner even before she has taken the time to make his acquaintance.  That said, one way or another, and to differing and more or less contingent degrees, all three characters make some kind of escape from their generally self-imposed limitations, albeit to an uncertain future. 

This is, no doubt about it, a delightful book in full-on Hornby mode. Arguably, he has moved on a bit since (Funny Girl feels, notwithstanding its sixties setting, like it tackles the issues of a rather older writer in a more contemporary world), but this is vintage Hornby, the subtle, social, romantic, insightful stuff which made his name. It is a gem, and comes highly recommended, especially perhaps in its audiobook manifestation.