West of Mars\' Rocks \'n Reads

I don’t remember where I first heard of Farai Chideya’s Kiss the Sky. I do know I had really high hopes for this story, of a woman struggling with herself and her music career. Sophie is the sort of character you initially want to root for: she’s divorced from her music partner, but they’ve found a way to co-exist — maybe they are even comfortable with their status. She’s got a cool job, at least when the book opens, and she’s willing to work to regain what she had, musically.

It should have worked. Even the fact that Ms. Chideya is a Harvard grad who has a published a number of non-fiction books should have been enough to save this one.

I was shocked to see how many sentences started with a verb. Went to the club. Stepped outside for a smoke. (Now, I’m making these sentences up, so don’t go looking through the book for them) Yes, okay, maybe some of this is establishing Sophie’s voice, but frankly, it was too much. It became annoyingly repetitive, and it got in the way of the story.

This wasn’t as horrible a thing as I had first feared. Sophie is a mess: she’s bulimic, broke, and bull-headed. She’s so far in denial about her life that I couldn’t spend time with her. I had to put the book down.

It’s one thing to want to read an autobiography about someone who’s a bigger train wreck. We have a reason to want to like them — we have heard the music they make. There’s a connection there.

Thus, in fiction, it’s imperative for the reader to be able to relate to a character who has large amounts of baggage. We need to like them, care about them, root for them. They need to have some sort of drive, some sort of forward motion — either about them or their plot. If it’s going to be a plot-driven book, the character shouldn’t get in the way of that. Sadly, Sophie does.

I needed a reason to like Sophie. But I find myself intolerant of women characters, especially, who are broke but continue to spend money as if it’s no big deal. And then the sex scene with Leon… really, I had to ask if Sophie had any self-respect whatsoever.

If she doesn’t respect herself, why should I?

Kiss the Sky became a Did Not Finish.

I love used book sales. I’m such a fan of them, though, that I’ve had to institute a few rules.

1. I’m only allowed to buy it if I know for certain it’s on my wishlist. “For certain” is key; there are over 2300 books on my wishlist. Yes, I’ve bought the same book more than once… more than once.

2. I’m only allowed to buy it if it was written by a friend of mine. I’ve been known to pick up books from friends for the mere purpose of passing them on to new homes, in fact. So it’s always worth making friends with me.

3. I’m only allowed to buy it if it has Rock Novel elements.

That last rule is the one that led me to pick up Ruth Ryan Langan’s All that Glitters. In today’s world, a publication date of 1994 makes this book ancient, but whatever. It probably cost me a dime — I picked it up at a bag sale. According to the back of the book, the main heroine has two loves — her brother and her singing career.

Slam dunk, right?

Not so much.

One of the mistakes many Rock Novel writers make is falling into clichés. The cute but stupid drummer. The egotistical lead singer.

In All that Glitters, we had all sorts of other clichés — the kind you’d find in a Danielle Steel novel. Those big romance tropes, the ones that have so very wrongly defined the genre for so many people.

I never got to the parts where the music mattered. The clichés bothered me too much.

On to the next.

With a title like The Rock and Roll Queen of Bedlam, you’d expect the book to be a work of Rock Fiction, right? Add in a mention on the back blurb of the fact that our heroine, Allegra, has a thing for karaoke — and hello? That name!! — and yeah. You’d expect a rock novel. It’s not that unreasonable.

Ha. Not even close. This is one of those madcap, hapless tales of an amateur sleuth. There’s no rock here. Heck, there’s barely a mention of the karaoke nights.

In that respect, it’s quite disappointing.

In every other respect, this is one fun read. Allegra’s a great heroine. It’s easy to root for her. And Sloan is one heck of a hunky foil. The plot isn’t the most original, but it’s one that holds you throughout. I’m definitely going to be keeping an eye out for more from author Marilee Brothers.

It may not be a Rock Novel. But it’s a West of Mars Recommended Read.

My book club read Laurie Gwen Shapiro’s The Matzo Ball Heiress. We loved it; it was a great romp through a fun story, and one most of us in my book club could relate to … in one way or another.

Then I picked up The Anglophile, her follow-up. I didn’t love it. I may not have finished it.

So what possessed me to pick up her first book, The Unexpected Salami?

Well, Matzo Ball was that good. And as a bonus, The Unexpected Salami has a rock theme: Rachel, our heroine, turns tail and runs home when the drummer of the band she’s been living with gets shot.

Definite rock theme there, especially when The Tall Poppies go on to have moderate success.

All the elements are there! A book by an author whose penned another book I loved. Bands. Music. Rock and roll. What’s not to like?

Well, Rachel, for one. She’s whiny and so totally unlikeable, getting to the end of the book was difficult. It was a slog, a chore. It was, at times, torture. I kept wanting to smack her and tell her to grow up, get a clue, take some responsibility already. Not something you want to be reading as you’re trying to relax, unwind, and get ready for a good night’s sleep.

Since this is Rachel’s story, liking her is absolutely necessary. And since I couldn’t do that, I hated the rest of the book, too. It might have worked — part of the plot is her indecision about the men in her life — with someone who had at least one redeeming quality.

No go.

I’m now 2 for 3 with Ms. Shapiro’s books — and that 2 stands for dislike, not like. Loving that sophomore effort… I’m thinking that was the anomaly.

If you disagree with me and you thought The Unexpected Salami was great — or even good — leave your link in the comments. I’ll list any links here, and if you’ve written a really great review, I’ll link to that on the Rock Books page, too.

I am not sure I knew Last Night at Chateau Marmont fell squarely into the category of Rock and Roll Fiction until a copy arrived from BookMooch and I read the cover flap. It’s the story of Brooke Alter and what happens to her when her husband lands a recording deal and becomes music’s new darling.

Okay, so it’s about Julian as he becomes a mega-star. That qualifies for rock and roll fiction, right? Even if Julian isn’t a rocker as much as a pop musician in the best sense of the word — after all, the guy lands the opening slot on Maroon 5′s tour.

This book doesn’t feel very rock-ish. If anything, it’s a story about celebrity. The paparazzi abound (although I don’t quite get how they conveniently disappear when the dog needs to be walked. Walter Alter didn’t come across as particularly interested in eating paparazzi.) and the jet-set lifestyle has definite negatives when you are the one at home, trying to continue to live your life as if nothing has changed. Gossip magazines rule your lifestyle.

In some senses, Julian could have been an actor thrust into the spotlight. Or a reality show star. His being in the music business didn’t matter.

And that is why this isn’t a rock and roll novel.

It’s a good read, though. Perfect for the beach. It’s not too deep, even when it flirts with serious topics like the serious bumps that can end a marriage or eating disorders. Even the ending is easy and breezy. It’s almost too easy, but that fits the sort of book this is. And it’s neat to see music from the angle of celebrity. That part, I can’t find fault with. It’s so real, so chilling. I can see the meeting of the scorned women so clearly, as if I was watching the reality show based on them. (Is there one? Gosh, I hope not!) And while I don’t read the rags, I’ve seen enough of them in my day to believe this vile, snarky world Weisberger plunges us — and Brooke — into.

If you’re looking for real rock and roll fiction, there are better books out there. If you want a pleasant read to pass a few hours with, this is definitely the one for you. I may not rave about it, but I’m sure glad I read it.

I remember when I first heard of David Hiltbrand. He’s a rock journalist and feature reporter for those cross-state folk at the Philadelphia Inquirer. No, not THAT Inquirer. Sheesh.

Anyway, I picked up Hiltbrand’s first novel, Killer Solo. Even dropped the man a friendly e-mail because, hey, us rock and roll authors ought to stick together.

And then… I didn’t love the book the way I expected to. I know, I have really high expectations for anything involving a musician. Maybe too high.

But you know what? I liked the book enough to hit up BookMooch or PaperbackSwap and get my hands on Hiltbrand’s next two books. They hung around my office awhile, as books usually do. In preparation for Rocktober, I finally picked up the second book, Deader than Disco.

If Killer Solo had been as good as this book, I’d be raving about this series from top to bottom. Deader than Disco is a GREAT read.

The rocker at the heart of the book, Angel, is almost a total ripoff of Madonna. (I hope Madonna isn’t so unpleasant in person, but on the other hand, I can believe that there’s a glimmer of truth in Angel’s character.) The storyline deviates, however, in that I don’t believe anyone has ever turned up dead at Madonna’s home, making her a suspect and sending her on the run.

As with Killer Solo, the music details are pretty authentic. Hiltbrand knows this world, inside and out. In Deader than Disco, however, there are some almost fatal mistakes. Eighties bands such as Duran Duran are shifted an entire decade earlier, into the seventies, for example. Given the level of knowledge of a pop star’s inner circle, these mistakes seem more out of place than the mistakes you’ll find in a book that doesn’t obviously know the rock world so well. Yes, I’m saying I’m holding Hiltbrand to a higher standard. Given his pedigree, it’s not an unreasonable standard.

Where Hiltbrand doesn’t fail is with our main character, detective Jim McNamara. He has an authenticity about him that can’t be denied. His AA life is well represented and seems as real to me as the music world.

Of course, Jim rides to the rescue and saves the day — and Angel’s hide, too. That’s pretty much a given in today’s literature, and people would be calling for his head if this weren’t the case.

Unfortunately, this series, published between 2003 and 2006, seems to be Hiltbrand’s only fiction. Not just rock fiction, but fiction. Period. It’s too bad. While the series got off to a rocky start. Deader than Disco is a definite West of Mars Recommended Read.

** Note from Susan: I can’t find a buy link for Killer Solo at Powells.com, or I’d have included it. The book must be out of print. There IS a Kindle edition, however. Guess that’s too bad for those of us who don’t use Kindles…