![]() Tucker Crowe recorded a few albums, including one great one, and then abruptly quit the music business, disappearing from public view for two decades and driving his small but dedicated superfans into hysterics. Posted in 3 stars – a good book | Tagged Memoir, Nick Hornby, soccer, sports, TheScruffyRube | Leave a comment iamnothamlet’s #CBR5 Review #35: Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby A little more help will always be required. A little help from a smart writer like Mr. But that doesn’t mean I understand what it is to be English as intimately and personally as those who actually are English. I’m a fan, of English literature, and English culture, and English sports. When that happens (as it does with Fever Pitch) you’re robbed of connecting the past to the present and learning what it all means and how it all relates. Worse still, those of us who relish the chance to discuss our community’s past are often held captive as time marches on and the community around us changes too. Sports fans thrive on sharing their community with others, but when writing about it, we risk shuttering the doors against anyone who’s not already part of the community. Even I, a would be serious futbol fan, was utterly clueless about who on earth he was referring to for most of the book (just as Hornsby would be dumbfounded if I spent pages debating the relative worth of Brendan Harris versus Al Newman– give yourself credit if you know either of those two men). Hornby’s book, though academically intriguing is limited by the greatest limitation a sports fan has: sometimes the rest of the world thinks you’re speaking an alien language. Hornsby’s sincere admiration for fans of less dominant teams (your Nottingham Forests, Cambridge Uniteds and Wolverhamptons) is positively quaint in an age when, walking into sports shops throughout the country I could only see jerseys for Arsenal, Chelsea, Manchester United and Manchester City. The old 1-0 grind out Gunners that Hornsby found an affection for have been replaced by a whirling collection of international stars (I recall Indian students complaining that the numerous French players on Arsenal made it less of an English team than a French one). Arsenal no longer play at Hornsby’s beloved Highbury, but at a gargantuan beast of a place called “Air Emirates Stadium” a mile away. Unfortunately for Hornby, and–I imagine–many other fans, the sporting community of twenty years ago has changed. It shows how, in a city as teeming and varied as London, you can still create an identity through a community, even if it’s just one that wears the same jersey as you on match days. Hornsby’s passion sears the pages, his concern and elation for formations and strategies of his beloved Arsenal eleven are apparent from the first word to the last. It’s a great guide for academics who want to see exactly what drives an otherwise sane man to spend a large portion of his weekend (not to mention his salary) supporting a collection of athletes who don’t really know that he exists. I was happy to find in Hornby ‘s work a memoir for a thinking sports fan (something I aspire to be on two other websites). But I think I’ll stick to his fictional novels from now on.įor how this review of more modern London living relates back to the tried-and-true Rumpole and other classic British monuments, look at my regular blog: The Scruffy Rube It’s still interesting to read his essays in that you can tell this man has great enthusiasm for his subject, and he’s definitely a good writer. I like music! But Nick Hornby is a 56 year old British man, and I am a 27 year old American woman, and our musical tastes just do not overlap. Songbook is a collection of essays about music. And he doesn’t try to explain either - he’s writing for someone who loves the sport. I don’t understand the first thing about clubs and these fans. I’m neither British nor a soccer fan (and I will totally admit I picked this book up thinking it would be baseball like the movie because I am dumb). For instance, Fever Pitch is meant to be read by a British soccer fan. ![]() I think the issue is that I just don’t relate to what he writes about, and he’s not trying to write to someone who doesn’t share his experiences. I tried Fever Pitch last year and couldn’t finish it (rare for me), and found Songbook - while a quick, easy read - to be dull as well. ![]() I am finding that while I really enjoy Nick Hornby’s fiction (especially About a Boy and How to be Good), I just can’t get into his non-fiction work.
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