Juliet, Naked: A reflection

I love anything by Nick Hornby. You can imagine my shock that one slipped by me when I saw Juliet, Naked in a store window as the kids were trying to run away from me. Why do I love him? He is brutally honest, throws in pop culture a lot of people could care less about, and he is the only person on this earth, and I mean the only one that can make me roll on the floor laughing until I choke and need to change clothes. I saw the book-but did I have time or energy to take three kids into the tiny little bookstore where old ladies have no patience? Did I have the time to read anything other than Caps for Sale? So it had to wait until Christmas break, and I just finished it. Before kids I knocked out the entire Hannibal Lecter series in one weekend, or it might have been the Mitford series-same difference, right? Hornby didn’t disappoint. He never does.

Because I am a freak, I have read Q&As by him several times. Therefore I know he doesn’t read reviews by anybody, be they written by a professional or freak fan. The good news is I can say whatever I want, like I would have changed what I was going to say anyway. He says he doesn’t read them because reviews are, for the most part, just summaries of books plus adjectives. Ouch. Brilliant and true, but all the same, ouch. I haven’t read any reviews of Juliet, Naked either. I haven’t because I wanted to write my own and I don’t like other people’s words and opinions in my head.

At the risk of being accused of a summary with some adjectives, the gist of the novel is a couple in England, Duncan and Annie, have been together for fifteen years by habit. They haven’t left each other but they never made it permanent. Duncan is obsessed with Tucker Crowe, an old (by old I mean popular in the 80s, ha) singer that abruptly left the music world. Annie is a fan by osmosis. I have been there before, trust me. The couple gets a hold of a new album of old stuff. The original album was Juliet; the new one is Juliet, Naked. Duncan immediately writes a review for his website, and his girlfriend decides to write a review of her own. Duncan rolls his eyes, pats her head, and posts it for her. It’s her review that, of course, gets a secret email response from Tucker himself. From there we go into the ups, downs, and heartaches of these three people in what is their real life versus the one that has been created for them by fans and acquaintances. Any guesses on which one is more interesting?

Oh oh oh! How many of us are waiting for that secret email from JK Rowling, Kevin Smith, or one of the Cohen Brothers? You are the only person who understands where the famous person is coming from. Yeah right. Nick is able to use his gift of knowing “real” people and their need to join message groups, blog, check Wikipedia, and share common interests online. People are listened to on the internet when they find the right fan page or group of crazies that share their interest. I myself am included in this. The fact that he nails us and our internet tendencies does not make me want to shut down my modem and go hide.

Nick is always able to zap a reader with his opening sentence. I know all of them from all of his books because I am a “Duncan.” But this is how he begins Juliet, “They had flown from England to Minneapolis to look at a toilet.” First thought? Who the hell would do that? I don’t know -who goes to London and stands between platforms nine and ten? How many people travel to Memphis for Graceland? Not to be morbid, but I heard tell that in Corpus Christi, the hotel where Selena was killed had to renumber the hotel rooms to keep sick fans from looking for the room she was shot in. People are `crazy. It isn’t new; it is just funnier in Nick’s story. I laughed out loud a lot during the entire reading.

Nick can make a person as serious as a heart attack crack a smile. This time around he is making fun of the fandoms-people who write essays about nothing and think they know everything and the rest of the world is stupid. Here is a scene between Duncan and Annie, after she tells him she wrote her own article:

“You?”
“Yes, Me.”
“And do you think …Well, do you think you’re qualified to write something?”
“Is it a matter of qualifications?”
“Interesting question. I mean, you’re perfectly at liberty to write whatever you want.”
“Thanks.”
“But for the website…People expect a certain level of expertise.”
“In the first paragraph of his post, Jerry Warner says that Tucker Crowe lives in a garage in Portugal. How expert is that (p.66-67)?”

You know, I once got very angry at someone for confusing a Hippogriff with a Thestral. Little did I know that music fans are more arrogant and vicious than those of us that adore Harry Potter. The dialogue and wit of a Hornby book has no comparison to me. I’m laughing so hard at Duncan’s arrogance it makes me forget Annie should have dumped him years ago. I hope I wasn’t rude about my all time favorite seven part series. Don’t anyone tell me if I was….

Nick can also make people cry. When we come full circle and realize why Tucker walked away from the career and the fame to go live on a farm in Pennsylvania, we feel for him. We also feel for all the ex-wives and kids that he wasn’t there for. That phone call with his first daughter, Grace, got me teary and that doesn’t happen very often.

To me what is important throughout the novel is the concept of thinking you know everything when in reality you know nothing. All the discussion groups and die hard fans who shell out a lot of money to go stare at a toilet seat have no idea what really is going on with the real Tucker Crowe. He had to go to the bathroom, so he went. I have been working really hard on this concept with my four year old son. I’m glad an 80s musician mastered it. Hornby presents the internet and what it has done not only to inform, but also to misinform. For all you people know, I am actually single living in L.A. and waiting tables until I get a big break in Hollywood. So are we clothed on the internet and naked in real life, or naked on the internet and clothed in reality? Hmmmmm

If he zaps you with his opening, he seals it with the close. I can just imagine a group of music fans going off when someone dares to prefer a happier, later in the career, my life is fine, album. That cracked me up the most. Like when all the kids in the 90s discovered Santana and all their dads and uncles hit the roof.

If you like to laugh at the good stuff and I don’t mean Jackass, then pick up anything by Nick Hornby. The man really can’t write fast enough-must be all those soccer/football games he watches taking up his time. We know he isn’t reading book reviews.