Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid

Everyone knows DAISY JONES & THE SIX, but nobody knows the reason behind their split at the absolute height of their popularity . . . until now.

Daisy is a girl coming of age in L.A. in the late sixties, sneaking into clubs on the Sunset Strip, sleeping with rock stars, and dreaming of singing at the Whisky a Go Go. The sex and drugs are thrilling, but it's the rock 'n' roll she loves most. By the time she's twenty, her voice is getting noticed, and she has the kind of heedless beauty that makes people do crazy things.

Also getting noticed is The Six, a band led by the brooding Billy Dunne. On the eve of their first tour, his girlfriend Camila finds out she's pregnant, and with the pressure of impending fatherhood and fame, Billy goes a little wild on the road.

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Daisy and Billy cross paths when a producer realizes that the key to supercharged success is to put the two together. What happens next will become the stuff of legend.

The making of that legend is chronicled in this riveting and unforgettable novel, written as an oral history of one of the biggest bands of the seventies. Taylor Jenkins Reid is a talented writer who takes her work to a new level with Daisy Jones & The Six, brilliantly capturing a place and time in an utterly distinctive voice.

I put off reading Daisy Jones & the Six for a long while. For one, I'm always nervous going into highly-hyped books; I try to divorce my reaction to books from their public reaction—because often, I'll over-inflate or overanalyze the story too much and forcibly reduce my enjoyment of it. But Daisy Jones had been on my radar for a while, but I knew I had to be in the right mood.

For one, I love 70's style; my fashion is taken straight from that era, and looking at Stevie Nicks is a good way to evaluate what I veer towards at a given time. It's a good mix of edge, froth, texture, statement, and utility that meshes well with my personal visual signature.

I'm also generally obsessed with stories about talent—those pursuing the fringe dream and how it drives them. Success at all costs, prodigies, stubbornness, geniuses, etc,. etc,. So you can see how Daisy Jones might be up my alley.

I'm close with Jane Lee, who's the Brand Director at Reese's Book Club, which spearheads Daisy Jones. I've known her since I was in high school, when I worked with her while she was at Hachette. So when I finally settled in to watch the show (and the book right after, as soon as it came in via my library holds), I had to book club with her via Instagram messages.

I'm so glad I saved it for a rainy day! It hit at exactly the right time to spark a thousand connections with what I'm doing, reading, considering, etc,.

First, I Started Watching the Show.

The limited series got me hooked. I'm not a huge TV watcher. I've gotten more into it in post-grad (in college, I never watched anything) and often pick up a book instead. But a limited series perfectly satisfies demands on my attention—longer than a movie, stitched together enough that I get breaks, but not so demanding I feel locked into multiple seasons if it's not my vibe. A six- to eight-episode run is just about ideal for a long flight from the East Coast of the U.S. (or in my case, Edinburgh) back to Honolulu.

I'll dissect my full thoughts on the show in a separate review (and compare it to the book), but I actually loved going in this order. I hadn't realized that the book is narrated and structured documentary-style too: all dialogue and interviews. So seeing that format first translated to screen was really helpful in priming my brain for understanding the story, overt conflicts, and simmering tensions. It's also just such a rich piece of media—musically, character-wise, thematically, etc,. I'm not sure I would have connected so much to Daisy Jones & the Six had I read the book then watched the show.

The Characters Make Daisy Jones a Standout.

Recently, I've been thinking about continuity of the self, and what keeps you the same person as you oscillate between your highs and lows. The version you are to various others, the ideal self vs. tired self, even the sober self vs. the buzzed one. And this book was a beautiful example of that idea.

Each voice is vivid and unreliable. You can see how each character's flaws and vulnerabilities intensify or complicate each of their relationships. For example, Billy is convinced he's always right and doing everything "for the good" of the band, but others see what he doesn't: that he often steamrolls them and gets away with it. The analysis of seemingly small moments—like Daisy standing up to Billy on co-writing credits—has gigantic impacts on the rest of the band's dynamic. You see the writing on the wall before they do.

So it is a portrait, but you understand how closely each seemingly-small event relies on the previous domino—a hallmark of great storytelling. (I'm not sure this was as effective in the show, although still good.)

Everyone is perfectly oblivious to the biased qualities within themselves. I loved Daisy for her selfishness and her challenges and free-spirited genuineness. She always spoke her mind and did what was true to her, even when she wasn't entirely sure what to commit to. I loved Billy for his dedication and his struggle not to become his father, even when he felt like an echo. Eddie wasn't wrong, but he was bitter. I loved Karen for her boundaries, Graham for his sweetness, Camila for her (relatable) stubbornness. I'm a lover, so I understood her vision, and fighting for Billy took a deeper strength that not enough people would give her credit for if not for a perspective like this.

Each character had very nuanced and specific qualities that played off each other in complicated ways, and reacted with each other in ways that actually mimic reality—while still feeling cinematic and larger-than-life. Spectacular characterization, honestly, and I don't say that lightly.

It's a Love Letter to Art and Music, of Course

And I love that the band in Daisy Jones is chasing beauty and art and meaning no matter how stupid it feels. I am unbearably stubborn, so I relate. I test in the 99th (?) percentile for grit—your willingness to push through hardship because you see that long game vision when nobody else does.

It's of course refreshing to see a dream made real in fiction: to experience the moments with each character when they are viscerally aware of the impact their creation is going to have on others, and how their lives are all going to change. That precipice was so addictive. And no, achieving their intention doesn't mean everything is perfect, nor do they expect it to fix all of their problems.

And, in a way that sounds obnoxious to articulate, Daisy Jones also spoke poignantly to the difficulty of being widely praised or facing expectations of greatness. You can't doubt your talent, people will make exceptions for you because of it, but it's a lot of pressure that will shape you for the better and worse.

I loved how subtly the book played with certain ideas—like how the pitches and waves of emotion make their art better, but how they had to figure out when and how to introduce steadiness to their personal lives. Recently, I've thought a lot about what all I'm sacrificing to make a creative product and what's an appropriate risk; there's no right answer, which is why Daisy Jones feels so true.

I also loved the conversation about how art itself isn't necessarily how everything happened, but a wholly separate—both limited and limitless—entity that takes on its own meaning for every person who interacts with it (more on this in my book club post.) Parasocial relationships are definitely on our minds nowadays with a closer celebrity and influencer culture, so I loved that discussion. (See: The Art of Magical Overthinking by Amanda Montell, which breaks the concept down through a similar lens.)

All in all, Daisy Jones & the Six gives you a lot to chew on—but through an entertaining, well-balanced, immersive book that I had a grand ol' time ripping through. It's emotional and sexy and thoughtful and fabulous, and I hope that someone in a similar phase to life as I'm in might have a similarly mirrored reading experience that hits all the right notes. It also does have such a phenomenal sense of place—all sun-drenched, hungry Los Angeles, in a way that makes me hunger to be a part of that exact scene, which is exactly what I want from a book. I underlined so, so much.

For fans of:

Malibu Rising by Taylor Jenkins Reid; The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky; 16 Ways to Break a Heart by Lauren Strasnick; Open Road Summer by Emery Lord; Famous in Love by Rebecca Serle; The Idea of You by Robinne Lee; On Love by Alain de Botton; The Villain Edit by Laurie Devore; Everything Leads to You by Nina LaCour.