I was stunned by the novella Meat is Murder by Joe Pernice. If you’re not down, Joe Pernice is the singer/front man for the band The Pernice Brothers. And if you are some kind of friggin’ hermit, Meat is Murder was a high point in The Smiths discography. That’s the album cover on the book cover there.
I was hipped to this book by a stellar article at Bookslut called Wrapped Up In Books: A Guide to Rock Novels by Michael Schaub. I’ve bookmarked that baby for future reading needs. Meat is Murder, the book, is part of part of continuum’s 33 1/3 book series. The series pairs writers with noteworthy albums. This book is different, according to Joe Pernice’s introduction, because it is fiction. I guess that means the rest are “this album totally rocks and you are a jerk if you don’t agree”-style treatises. I really don’t know. Read on after the jump yall.
It kills me to read something like this, because it seems like it is the kind of book that I should have written. The story is about a Catholic school kid in the class of 1985 who is trying to figure life out and finds an anchor in music. Like Joe Pernice’s, my hypothetical book would be totally fictional. My story would be set in New Orleans instead of Boston. I might feature Meat is Murder, but I would also work London Calling and Murmur into my fictional fiction. Instead of having a hungover musician on a train begin the narration, maybe I could start with a hungover environmental scientist on a plane. But I digress.
The beginning of this story is hilarious and sucks you right in. Let’s just say it includes “anal sex and subterfuge”. (I can’t wait to see what Google searches that phrase pulls in). The remainder of the novella is a coming of age story that is at once completely original while being clearly recognizable to those of us who were high school seniors in 1985.
The namesake album is worked into the story as an incidental soundtrack to a key time in the narrator’s life. I could totally relate to that aspect of the story. This album (everything was vinyl for at least another year) moved with me from high school to college. When my life is being made into a movie, “How Soon is Now” will be featured prominently in the hazy college freshman hi-jinks montage. That tremolo guitar is made for a totally sweet movie montage. The book isn’t trying to convince you that this is the greatest album ever, or even that The Smiths are any good. The point is that an album meant something to this guy - who is neither Joe Pernice nor me. We swear. You don’t have to be a Smith’s fan to dig this book, but it wouldn’t hurt either.
I had to run out and buy this CD immediately(I didn’t have it on me while on vacation) upon finishing the book. If you are a fan of The Smiths and this album in particular, all of the songs are relevant to the story (except the title song), but That Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore is really the gist of it.
My man, Flava, who loathes Morrissey and The Smiths may want to steer well clear of this one. Also, hats off to Shaft. I would never have heard of Joe Pernice if he hadn’t talked me into checking out the Pernice Brothers in East Atlanta. Also, remind me to tell you the hilarious story of how we road-tripped to Atlanta to see The Smiths at The Fox - a ten hour drive - only to find out that the rest of the tour was cancelled. I don’t want to give too much away, but it involved scooting over to Athens, drinking bourbon from ice tea glasses, and dancing with a lady named Magnolia who had very few teeth. That’s a freaking novella right there. No subterfuge though.
October 12th, 2005 at 10:55 am
I just finished this fine piece of work (on loan from the noteworthy turntablist), and rather than post, I thought I’d just throw a comment up here. I loved the book. After having become one of the whiniest singer/songwriters of the current era, Joe Pernice had fallen off my “approved” list. But this little book might be enough to right the ship. While I couldn’t identify personally with a lot of the events that happened in the book, I appreciated them nonetheless. And ol’ Joe knows how to turn a phrase or two or three. Lots of funny metaphors used to describe the situations in which he found himself. And the lust that overtook him for Allison was completely believable and sadly hilarious.
I’m going to see if they need anyone to add to this series with a piece on “Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em” or the debut album from Pebbles, in which case you may find some nonfiction from yours truly on bookshelves soon.