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3.92 AVERAGE
3.92 AVERAGE
This should have been a beautiful, heart-rending book. Instead I felt manipulated, just because I am a music fan and have often lived my life by the mix tape. The writing is overly jaunty for the subject matter, the references to all the famous musicians the journalist (because I don't think he qualifies as a novelist, based on this outing) has had encounters with were unnecessary and self-inflating. And the style was just poor. Perhaps there was more substance later in the book, but I couldn't get past the shallowness of the introductory chapter.
emotional
hopeful
sad
fast-paced
This is one of the best, most heart-breaking memoirs I've ever read.
dark
emotional
hopeful
reflective
medium-paced
3.5
When I was in middle school, my friend Kelly and I would burn each other CDs on her family’s ancient desktop computer. I am a little fuzzy on the songs, but I know quite a few featured the live Broadway production of Wicked (a musical we both loved), while others were all unreleased Taylor Swift songs (“I’d Lie”, anyone?) or emo hits (All Time Low, Mayday Parade, Hey Sunday). We’d scribble the tracklist in Sharpie and write little notes to one another, adorned with doodles of hearts and stars. It was an act of love, of effort, of wanting to share a piece of ourselves with the other person. I still have a few buried in a desk drawer in my childhood bedroom.
This is what Rob Sheffield understands more than anything: that music can be a way of reaching another person, even one long gone. His book is centered on his late wife, Renee, and their love story, but (perhaps more than that) it is centered on their mutual love of music. It is about how a song can become engraved with memory, how a song can capture a moment in music like amber.
There is a playlist on my Spotify, now, that is entitled “It’s Okay to Miss Her.” It’s all songs that remind me of my mom. Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Carole King. When I listen to it, it almost fills the room with her. Sheffield has playlists like this for his late wife, and he shares them all here. He also shares memories. He lets us into intimate moments that maybe we don’t deserve but that I know will stick with me for quite some time. He also shares his grief. Sheffield captures well the shock of losing someone so young so instantly. He writes without hesitation and you can palpably feel his grief. One of my favorite chapters was about Jackie Kennedy and how she he found a kinship with her, in their shared widowhood, in their shared messy grief.
I do think the first half of the book is a little weak. The initial chapters about Sheffield’s childhood exploration of music didn’t exactly stick the landing, and I sometimes felt strange about the way he wrote about women generally. But the last half makes it all worth it. i love to read people who write about what they love and you can truly tell that Sheffield loves his wife and that he loves music. In the end, the memoir feels like a mixtape of its own—messy and personal and full of memory.
When I was in middle school, my friend Kelly and I would burn each other CDs on her family’s ancient desktop computer. I am a little fuzzy on the songs, but I know quite a few featured the live Broadway production of Wicked (a musical we both loved), while others were all unreleased Taylor Swift songs (“I’d Lie”, anyone?) or emo hits (All Time Low, Mayday Parade, Hey Sunday). We’d scribble the tracklist in Sharpie and write little notes to one another, adorned with doodles of hearts and stars. It was an act of love, of effort, of wanting to share a piece of ourselves with the other person. I still have a few buried in a desk drawer in my childhood bedroom.
This is what Rob Sheffield understands more than anything: that music can be a way of reaching another person, even one long gone. His book is centered on his late wife, Renee, and their love story, but (perhaps more than that) it is centered on their mutual love of music. It is about how a song can become engraved with memory, how a song can capture a moment in music like amber.
There is a playlist on my Spotify, now, that is entitled “It’s Okay to Miss Her.” It’s all songs that remind me of my mom. Whitney Houston, Michael Jackson, Carole King. When I listen to it, it almost fills the room with her. Sheffield has playlists like this for his late wife, and he shares them all here. He also shares memories. He lets us into intimate moments that maybe we don’t deserve but that I know will stick with me for quite some time. He also shares his grief. Sheffield captures well the shock of losing someone so young so instantly. He writes without hesitation and you can palpably feel his grief. One of my favorite chapters was about Jackie Kennedy and how she he found a kinship with her, in their shared widowhood, in their shared messy grief.
I do think the first half of the book is a little weak. The initial chapters about Sheffield’s childhood exploration of music didn’t exactly stick the landing, and I sometimes felt strange about the way he wrote about women generally. But the last half makes it all worth it. i love to read people who write about what they love and you can truly tell that Sheffield loves his wife and that he loves music. In the end, the memoir feels like a mixtape of its own—messy and personal and full of memory.
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
A sometimes pretentious, but often very sweet memoir of a young man and his wife that he lost too soon. I spent a lot of time in my formative years crafting and explaining mixtapes, so I’m pretty much the target audience for this book, that sets each chapter up with a mix tape from that time in the author’s life. A super quick read, and it helped me find some new songs too.
I found this to be such a beautiful read but I can see it easily going under appreciated by someone who isn't the biggest fan of music. This book is perfect for anyone like myself who adores music and loves to makes playlists for any occasion. I would highly recommend listening to the mix tapes at the beginning of each chapter while reading, it makes it an even more emotional read. Overall this book beautifully captures what music can mean to so many people and how easily songs are tied to memories.
emotional
funny
reflective
sad
fast-paced
So good!! Again one from my parents bookshelf and didn’t know who the author was but was such a great read. Explores love and grief through music and was very emotional. Very well written with good comedy to balance out the intense emotions you feel. Can’t wait to listen through the music now!
This is a great book. I probably would have loved it more if I were a few years older and could relate to the songs in the same way Rob and Renee did. It's a love story told by a grieving husband, which makes it that much more lovely.
It was okay. Nothing special but cute I guess. A quick read and it reminded me of Dan and our days of making mix tapes and all that wonderful stuff.
If you made a lot of mix tapes, had a punk rock significant other who was your bff, and/or like pop culture, give it a quick read.
If you made a lot of mix tapes, had a punk rock significant other who was your bff, and/or like pop culture, give it a quick read.