Review: Daisy Jones & The Six

Rating: 4.5 Stars

Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid may be a fictional account of a 70’s rock band, but the stories, the songs and the music sound so real that you can’t help but think about getting your hands on that awesome album that doesn’t really exist!

The book follows the rise of Daisy Jones and Billy Dunne and his band, The Six; and how it all came to an abrupt end after a sold out show at Chicago Stadium. No one knows why it all ended the way it did when everything seemed to be going so well for the band. Now, after more than 30 years, someone is making an effort to find out what actually happened.

The book is written as an oral history, recounted by several people. However, instead of going the usual route of everyone telling their stories one by one, this book gives a voice to everyone in one go. It feels like you have a number of people in your head talking about the same thing, yet looking at it from different perspectives.

I thought Jenkins Reid was a good writer when I had read her “Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.” This book confirms my belief. The way she writes about her female protagonists, it’s impossible not to feel their pain. You may not agree with their life choices, or what they stand for, but you can understand their misery.

Throughout the book, what I wanted to do the most was to hear all these great songs being talked about. You know a writer is a winner when she pushes herself to write all the lyrics for all the songs mentioned in her book! I certainly hope someone can get a real life Daisy Jones and a real life Billy Dunne to sing these songs some day!

A powerful book with a great soundtrack to accompany it!

Sunday Dispute: Is It Mid-Life Crisis?

I have been facing a dilemma. That of changing tastes and choices. I have always been proud of primarily being a detective at heart; a thrill seeker and a mystery solver, with a streak of adventure and a love for the unknown. There were a few years when this love was shared by another genre: Romance. Alas, that love affair only lasted for the duration of my teenage years. There were a few other friendships, but none as permanent and everlasting as the one between mystery thrillers and me.

This year, as I enter into my forties, I fear that my reading habits might be going through a mid-life crisis. The previously much-loved and adored friend no longer seems to hold my interest. Infact, I can hardly get myself to even look at a thriller any more. There are stacks and stacks of books staring at me, silently willing me to pick them up, their attractive covers screaming from Instagram accounts, their stellar reviews whispering sweet nothings into my ears, yet I feel nothing.

I have not found another favorite genre yet, but I’m looking around. All of a sudden I seem to have become more bold and daring, willing to venture into unknown worlds, rather than remaining a one-genre woman. It’s not easy. I would say it’s a lot of hard work. I keep thinking that if I read enough crap I might find something that will hold my interest for a longer period of time. Something with whom I can enjoy a long-term relationship.

But when you have been married for as long as mysteries/ thrillers and I, anything new just seems like a short-lived affair brought on by the advent of middle age. You have to give me one thing though. I haven’t stopped spending money on the darned genre. I still buy more thrillers than is good for my bank account, more than I can possibly read in this lifetime at least! It’s like a disease in my blood.

The more I write about it, the more it seems like the tale of a marriage going through a bad time. Maybe that’s what it is. We have been together for so long that we need a break from each other. Yeah, that’s what we should do.

Though we need to define the boundaries of this break. I don’t want to be left alone later on in life, telling anyone who would listen, “…but we were on a break!”

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