BOOK OF THE DAY: Juliet, NakedBy Nick Hornby Penguin Viking 247pp, £18.99
THE EXPERIENCE of being a fan – of a band, or a football team, or a skateboarder – has been a recurring theme in Nick Hornby's work for a long time. His first two books, the memoir Fever Pitchand the novel High Fidelity, both paid homage to the fan's passion for his idols (in Hornby's world, the fan is always a he) and gently mocked him for devoting so much time and effort to adoring them.
His new novel, Juliet, Naked,is another book about fandom – but this time, we see things from the point of view of the worshipped as well as the worshippers.
Duncan and Annie have been together for 15 years, although these days neither is quite sure why. They live in Gooleness, a dismal seaside town, and Annie is starting to suspect that their shared dislike of the town and most of its inhabitants is one of the only reasons they’re still together.
She certainly doesn’t share Duncan’s grand passion, cult singer-songwriter Tucker Crowe.
In the mid-1980s, we are told, while touring to celebrate the release of his seminal album Juliet, Crowe abruptly cancelled the tour and withdrew from the world. No one knows exactly where he lives or what he's been doing since then, but that doesn't stop his devoted fans from poring over everything he ever released.
So when Crowe's record company release a stripped-down version of Julietentitled Juliet, Naked, Crowologists, including Duncan, are ecstatic.
But Annie’s not particularly impressed by the new version, and when she writes a more critical review on a Crowe website, Duncan feels betrayed and seeks solace in the bed of another woman. Then Annie receives an e-mail from none other than Tucker Crowe himself, agreeing with her verdict.
While her relationship with Duncan dissolves, Annie develops an increasingly close e-mail relationship with Tucker, who, far from being a recluse, lives a fairly ordinary life with his young son in a small Pennsylvania town.
Both Tucker and Annie feel like they've been wasting time – and now they need things to change. Hornby is never less than entertaining, and Juliet, Nakedis enormously readable and often funny. Annie's introduction to Gooleness's Northern Soul scene is particularly amusing, and Hornby always imbues these comic moments with a touch of bittersweet real emotion.
He’s never mean-spirited; even his most ludicrous characters, from the Northern Soul groovers to the obsessive Duncan, are depicted with kindness (too much kindness, perhaps, in the case of the irresponsible Tucker).
Hornby has also become much better at writing female characters since his early days. For most of the book, Annie is a convincing, likeable and funny heroine, although her belated, and increasingly desperate, desire for a child does slip into regrettable cliche.
But as he has done in the past, Hornby shows throughout the book that he considers musical devotion to be a very male thing, something ladies are just too “sensible” (or musically ignorant) to indulge in.
And while he does mock these nerdy male fans, he also shows how their devotion to other people’s creativity not only gives them pleasure but also has the power to encourage and inspire the artists themselves.
Irritating gender essentialism aside, Juliet, Nakedis an entertaining and intelligent piece of popular fiction, although one wonders why Hornby's wry looks at relationships are taken so seriously while his female equivalents are often dismissed as chick-lit.
Hornby has always written evocatively about music, and throughout the book I regularly found myself wanting to hear Tucker Crowe's Juliet. It's a testament to Hornby's skill that that I had to keep reminding myself that the album – and its creator – don't actually exist.
Anna Carey is a freelance journalist