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From Blue to Black
"A dark, precise insinuating novel that rewrites pop history into something like a perfect wish come disconcertingly true."—Dennis Cooper
In the early 1990s, a band called ‘Triangle’ is a cult item on the post-punk music scene. Karl is the brilliant but troubled vocalist, haunted by past violence and present danger, torn between chasing fame and desiring oblivion, between men and women, music and silence. As the band makes waves with the obligatory alcohol, sex and blurred reality, Karl starts to fall apart. Based on the life of Ian Curtis, lead singer of Joy Division, From Blue to Black is a passionate novel about rock music and its world. Born in 1963, Joel Lane lives in Birmingham, England. He is a prize-winning poet.
In the early 1990s, a band called ‘Triangle’ is a cult item on the post-punk music scene. Karl is the brilliant but troubled vocalist, haunted by past violence and present danger, torn between chasing fame and desiring oblivion, between men and women, music and silence. As the band makes waves with the obligatory alcohol, sex and blurred reality, Karl starts to fall apart. Based on the life of Ian Curtis, lead singer of Joy Division, From Blue to Black is a passionate novel about rock music and its world. Born in 1963, Joel Lane lives in Birmingham, England. He is a prize-winning poet.
215 pages, Paperback
First published October 1, 2001
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586 people want to read
About the author
Joel Lane
128 books58 followersJoel Lane was a British novelist, short story writer, poet, critic and anthology editor. He received the World Fantasy Award in 2013 and the British Fantasy Award twice.
Born in Exeter, he was the nephew of tenor saxophonist Ronnie Scott. At the time of his death, Lane was living in south Birmingham, where he worked in health industry-related publishing. His location frequently provided settings for his fiction.
Born in Exeter, he was the nephew of tenor saxophonist Ronnie Scott. At the time of his death, Lane was living in south Birmingham, where he worked in health industry-related publishing. His location frequently provided settings for his fiction.
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 29 reviews
March 27, 2019
How to sum up the experience of reading From Blue to Black? Joel Lane's writing leaves me speechless. By the time I got to the end of the book, I had dog-eared so many pages that one corner was almost twice as thick as the rest.
In the early 1990s, a Birmingham indie band called Triangle begin to achieve modest success. Their singer, Karl, is talented but troubled – and if that's a cliche, it's a cliche every character in the book is uncomfortably aware of. The story is narrated by David, the band's bass player, who also becomes Karl's boyfriend. It charts the rocky path of their relationship as David observes Karl's struggles with past trauma, the idea of commitment, and Triangle's burgeoning fame.
Unlike much of Lane's output, From Blue to Black is not weird fiction or horror; indeed, it's doggedly and often miserably realistic. Yet there's a persistent underlying strangeness. Throughout the book, David will encounter faceless figures, shadow men who always seem briefly to resemble Karl, perhaps signifying David's unsteady hold on his mercurial lover.
This passage might well be the novel in microcosm. The geographic description is so specific that we can't escape the sense of being located squarely in banal reality. Yet the encounter has the feeling of a dream; and there is something so chilling about that last sentence.
There are other moments of the inexplicable, often found in casual asides from David. Triangle have to ditch some early recordings because they turn out to be full of unaccountable interference. At a gig, an unidentifiable sound whispers through the performers; later, a radio show erupts into static. In a different sort of book, these scenes would be the start of something – a clue to the horror to come, a creepy bit of foreshadowing which the narrator ignores at his peril. In From Blue to Black they are arguably incidental. Yet the feeling of unease they create is essential.
Immersed in the world of the story, I made a playlist of the music mentioned and listened to it while reading. I realised that the writing, the way it feels, perfectly captures the ambience of a certain sort of hazy, doomy, slow, sad rock music – think a mixture of My Bloody Valentine, Joy Division, and The Velvet Underground & Nico. But more than that, this is a book that instinctively understands melody and rhythm and how they can translate to the page. Lane's paragraphs are often miniature lessons in perfect structure and tempo.
Another thing I've noticed in Lane's work is how he quietly, deftly weaves in social and political commentary. The Birmingham of the early 90s is a bleak and battered place, an urban landscape filled with dreamlike silhouettes of machinery, where security floodlights click on to illuminate broken scaffolding, car bodies, nothing at all. When nature intrudes, it too seems stymied – the barking of a fox is described as a strange choking noise, as if it had trouble breathing. The numbness that seemed to characterise this era is always humming away in the background, lending a glossy (yet far from glamorous) sheen of unreality to many scenes.
The 1992 general election takes place within the story's timeline, and the unbearable tension of hope is added to the many pressures bearing down on our cast of characters. David notes:
The book is filled with beautiful, striking and sometimes amusing lines: the band's tour bus has smoked windows like sunglasses for an alien; David's mother owns a cat whose face had the weird stillness of early films. On a trip to Dublin, David sees a beggar hold up a mug as if it contained poison he was almost ready to drink, and after rainfall ghosts of the river flickered in the dark gutters. David watches Karl write a cheque: his hand moving deliberately as if he were trying to fake his own handwriting. The audience at a firework display are a crowd of angels, all staring eyes and and melting bones and crackling hair.
Enough quotes (though I have more). From Blue to Black is simply a stunning book. This is writing that works exquisitely at both micro and macro levels. I am dizzy with relief that I found it.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
In the early 1990s, a Birmingham indie band called Triangle begin to achieve modest success. Their singer, Karl, is talented but troubled – and if that's a cliche, it's a cliche every character in the book is uncomfortably aware of. The story is narrated by David, the band's bass player, who also becomes Karl's boyfriend. It charts the rocky path of their relationship as David observes Karl's struggles with past trauma, the idea of commitment, and Triangle's burgeoning fame.
Unlike much of Lane's output, From Blue to Black is not weird fiction or horror; indeed, it's doggedly and often miserably realistic. Yet there's a persistent underlying strangeness. Throughout the book, David will encounter faceless figures, shadow men who always seem briefly to resemble Karl, perhaps signifying David's unsteady hold on his mercurial lover.
Just before the traffic lights on the edge of Cannon Hill, I saw a rain-blurred figure coming towards me slowly. Was he drunk, or was the wind so strong he could hardly push through it? As he got closer his face didn't seem to clarify. I thought he was going to walk straight into me, but I couldn't bring him into focus... Then somehow he passed me without getting any closer. You know how sometimes a gust of wind can bring the rain together so it makes a twisted shape and almost casts a shadow? It was like that. But rain doesn't have a face. (p6)
This passage might well be the novel in microcosm. The geographic description is so specific that we can't escape the sense of being located squarely in banal reality. Yet the encounter has the feeling of a dream; and there is something so chilling about that last sentence.
There are other moments of the inexplicable, often found in casual asides from David. Triangle have to ditch some early recordings because they turn out to be full of unaccountable interference. At a gig, an unidentifiable sound whispers through the performers; later, a radio show erupts into static. In a different sort of book, these scenes would be the start of something – a clue to the horror to come, a creepy bit of foreshadowing which the narrator ignores at his peril. In From Blue to Black they are arguably incidental. Yet the feeling of unease they create is essential.
Immersed in the world of the story, I made a playlist of the music mentioned and listened to it while reading. I realised that the writing, the way it feels, perfectly captures the ambience of a certain sort of hazy, doomy, slow, sad rock music – think a mixture of My Bloody Valentine, Joy Division, and The Velvet Underground & Nico. But more than that, this is a book that instinctively understands melody and rhythm and how they can translate to the page. Lane's paragraphs are often miniature lessons in perfect structure and tempo.
On the metal grid across an overflow conduit, we stepped over the headless bodies of two blackbirds surrounded by hardening shreds of feathers. In my head, I could hear some crackly old blues number: Robert Johnson or Howlin' Wolf. The accidental percussion of worn-out vinyl. The Mississippi delta. Origins. Starting points. (p50)
Another thing I've noticed in Lane's work is how he quietly, deftly weaves in social and political commentary. The Birmingham of the early 90s is a bleak and battered place, an urban landscape filled with dreamlike silhouettes of machinery, where security floodlights click on to illuminate broken scaffolding, car bodies, nothing at all. When nature intrudes, it too seems stymied – the barking of a fox is described as a strange choking noise, as if it had trouble breathing. The numbness that seemed to characterise this era is always humming away in the background, lending a glossy (yet far from glamorous) sheen of unreality to many scenes.
Paper lampshades glowed flesh-pink or electric blue. Skinny teenage boys mimed shutting themselves up, swallowing pills. Couples writhed in the twilight zone between dancing and foreplay. Everything was on the way to becoming something else. (p95)
The 1992 general election takes place within the story's timeline, and the unbearable tension of hope is added to the many pressures bearing down on our cast of characters. David notes:
In this climate of alcohol and expectation, music became the only reality. (p36)
The book is filled with beautiful, striking and sometimes amusing lines: the band's tour bus has smoked windows like sunglasses for an alien; David's mother owns a cat whose face had the weird stillness of early films. On a trip to Dublin, David sees a beggar hold up a mug as if it contained poison he was almost ready to drink, and after rainfall ghosts of the river flickered in the dark gutters. David watches Karl write a cheque: his hand moving deliberately as if he were trying to fake his own handwriting. The audience at a firework display are a crowd of angels, all staring eyes and and melting bones and crackling hair.
Enough quotes (though I have more). From Blue to Black is simply a stunning book. This is writing that works exquisitely at both micro and macro levels. I am dizzy with relief that I found it.
TinyLetter | Twitter | Instagram | Tumblr
June 11, 2021
Umm, this is why you don't date someone you work with.
Seriously: I tend to be severely disappointed with novels by authors whose short stories I admire. I'm a huge fan of a lot of Lane's short fiction, so I've consciously avoided his first novel for awhile. The writing is typical Lane, a little too dense with detail for my usual taste, but always thoughtful, largely cliche free, and engaging. (Maybe it helps that I've spent time in depressing '90s Birmingham; have you been to Erdington? New Street Station? Sigh.) Lane's descriptions of grim cityscapes and suburbs always ring true.
With some of his short stories, I've commented on how he's so good with the details of independent music scenes, and he again delivers here. (Did he play in bands? I don't recall mentions of this in bios or remembrances. I should ask Alan Beard.) The protagonists are (more-or-less) openly queer, a rare thing in the largely straight '90s indie rock scene. There are lovingly constructed descriptions of songs, recording sessions, gigs, and stressful tours. I read Jon Savage's oral history of Joy Division recently, so this was eerily familiar. It's easy to forget that Triangle never existed.
The central relationship between two of the band members (both male) is messy, complex, and packed with gritty and beautiful detail. (And alcohol.) In this scene, the narrator has just walked into a dark recording studio, looking for his boyfriend:
The arc is perhaps not that surprising, but I'd grown to empathize with David despite his issues; watching him deal with Karl's downward slide is not easy.
The disastrous band interview in the gay rag is really funny, and highlights the complexities involved with being queer in (largely) non-queer music scenes, and making art in forms that do not have large queer audiences; something I know a little about. It's one of the few sections in the novel where Lane really let loose and had a little acerbic fun. (There's a line about the gay boy journalist raising "his eyes to Heaven", which I immediately read as the London gay bar, ha.)
David's brief tryst with Marc ("as in Almond", haha) is classic Joel Lane. If you've read as many of Lane's short horror stories as I have, when David and Marc ended up at the abandoned house, you'd expect a dissolution into some kind of blurred nightmare complete with Lovecraftian creatures. But it's just uncomfortable and tender.
Karl's downward spiral is not surprising. But the events after are sweet and thoughtful, with cogent commentaries on contemporary politics, changes in LGBTQ socializing, messy, complex interactions and personal relationships, and music (an atonal violinist named Erik Zan! Pansy Division and the new queer rock! Ha.) As one of the characters quipped: "There's no such thing as the whole story."
Seriously: I tend to be severely disappointed with novels by authors whose short stories I admire. I'm a huge fan of a lot of Lane's short fiction, so I've consciously avoided his first novel for awhile. The writing is typical Lane, a little too dense with detail for my usual taste, but always thoughtful, largely cliche free, and engaging. (Maybe it helps that I've spent time in depressing '90s Birmingham; have you been to Erdington? New Street Station? Sigh.) Lane's descriptions of grim cityscapes and suburbs always ring true.
With some of his short stories, I've commented on how he's so good with the details of independent music scenes, and he again delivers here. (Did he play in bands? I don't recall mentions of this in bios or remembrances. I should ask Alan Beard.) The protagonists are (more-or-less) openly queer, a rare thing in the largely straight '90s indie rock scene. There are lovingly constructed descriptions of songs, recording sessions, gigs, and stressful tours. I read Jon Savage's oral history of Joy Division recently, so this was eerily familiar. It's easy to forget that Triangle never existed.
The central relationship between two of the band members (both male) is messy, complex, and packed with gritty and beautiful detail. (And alcohol.) In this scene, the narrator has just walked into a dark recording studio, looking for his boyfriend:
The music pounded and surged around us, an enclosure without walls. I could see a point of red light on the tape deck. The tape reached its conclusion and juddered to a halt, without the slow fade we added later on. Against the level whine of the machine, I heard Karl's breathing. He was standing by the wall, close to me. 'Karl,' I said, 'It's me.' He reached out, drew me to him. Our mouths clasped together like empty hands.
The arc is perhaps not that surprising, but I'd grown to empathize with David despite his issues; watching him deal with Karl's downward slide is not easy.
The disastrous band interview in the gay rag is really funny, and highlights the complexities involved with being queer in (largely) non-queer music scenes, and making art in forms that do not have large queer audiences; something I know a little about. It's one of the few sections in the novel where Lane really let loose and had a little acerbic fun. (There's a line about the gay boy journalist raising "his eyes to Heaven", which I immediately read as the London gay bar, ha.)
David's brief tryst with Marc ("as in Almond", haha) is classic Joel Lane. If you've read as many of Lane's short horror stories as I have, when David and Marc ended up at the abandoned house, you'd expect a dissolution into some kind of blurred nightmare complete with Lovecraftian creatures. But it's just uncomfortable and tender.
Karl's downward spiral is not surprising. But the events after are sweet and thoughtful, with cogent commentaries on contemporary politics, changes in LGBTQ socializing, messy, complex interactions and personal relationships, and music (an atonal violinist named Erik Zan! Pansy Division and the new queer rock! Ha.) As one of the characters quipped: "There's no such thing as the whole story."
March 23, 2022
Hooked on Joel Lane's writing after picking up his collection Where Furnaces Burn at Fantasycon in Scarborough, I went and tracked down a second-hand copy of his debut novel From Blue to Black, the story of a cult Birmingham post-punk band around the time of the Tory reelection of 1992. Though not falling into the weird fiction category Joel Lane is known best for, stylistically this is very similar to Where Furnaces Burn in its hard-edged but beautiful descriptions of Britain’s post-industrial landscape. The country described is broken down, knocked down or only partially rebuilt. The IRA are still a threat, decaying factories are sprayed with swastikas and KEEP BRITAIN WHITE graffiti. The pubs are full and people drink like there’s no tomorrow.
Writing about music well is very difficult, especially rock music, but Lane really pulls it off here. There’s a clear love for the music described, as well as a keen awareness of its flaws and absurdities. Anyone who has been a fan of Felt, Nick Cave, The Cure or Hüsker Dü will find something to love (the book made me dig out all my old favourite Bob Mould songs such as this one),
From Blue to Black is about the power of music, about Birmingham, about Irishness, about destroying yourself with booze, and importantly it’s about gay men not adhering to the cliches of what gay men are supposed to be. As one character comments: ‘I don’t know any other gay men who are into rock. It’s either opera or musicals. Rock is just so uncouth.’
I don’t think I can recommend this book enough. Go and read it.
Writing about music well is very difficult, especially rock music, but Lane really pulls it off here. There’s a clear love for the music described, as well as a keen awareness of its flaws and absurdities. Anyone who has been a fan of Felt, Nick Cave, The Cure or Hüsker Dü will find something to love (the book made me dig out all my old favourite Bob Mould songs such as this one),
From Blue to Black is about the power of music, about Birmingham, about Irishness, about destroying yourself with booze, and importantly it’s about gay men not adhering to the cliches of what gay men are supposed to be. As one character comments: ‘I don’t know any other gay men who are into rock. It’s either opera or musicals. Rock is just so uncouth.’
I don’t think I can recommend this book enough. Go and read it.
December 29, 2025
It has been a long while since I have been blown away by someone's writing in a way this did. It is so captivating and transports you into a different time and place, that both feel familiar and foreign to me (having lives through the time but not the place).
Just loved everything about it.
Just loved everything about it.
September 11, 2011
From Blue to Black tells of the rise of Triangle, a fictional power trio, making dark, dissonant rock music in 1990's Birmingham. It is also a love story of sorts. Karl, the group's haunted, alcoholic, bisexual lead singer/guitarist, and David, their new bass player become lovers the night they meet. Their doomed affair, and Karl's descent into addiction and mental illness, plays out against (and is expertly mirrored by) the bleak industrial landscape of Northern England. First time novelist Lane's background as a poet is clearly in evidence as the book is chock full of tangible, amazingly wrought imagery.
Many of the descriptive passages can be taken as metaphors for Karl's troubled psyche - the black hopelessness hidden behind the opaque facade:
"Beyond the terraced streets, we could see the backdrop of green hills. From a distance, the elaborate Victorian frontages of the factories and civic halls looked impressive; but close-up you could see the sprayed messages and the chicken-wire over the blackened glass."
A river on the outskirts of Karl's home town, and the scene of his most terrible boyhood secret is, "...a skinned mass of dark muscle and yellow fat." Even a lover's idyll is tarnished with an ominous, disturbing air; when Karl and David dance together, it is, "...awkwardly, walled in by moving shadows."
If a reader is not interested in rock music, particularly in the various dealings that constitute the day-to-day life of a working rock band, then he/she might find the book to be overly encumbered with minutiae. For me, Lane's detailed descriptions of the writing, production, arrangement, recording and performing of the songs was spot on. The song lyrics were always revealing and the "reviews" of Triangle's concerts and recordings brilliantly aped the pretentious UK rock press.
While reading this book, I was constantly aware of the writer's lyrical skill with words, yet this only enhanced the emotional impact of the story, never distracted from it. This is a beautiful and carefully crafted work. Highly recommended to fans of music, queer literature or just great writing.
Many of the descriptive passages can be taken as metaphors for Karl's troubled psyche - the black hopelessness hidden behind the opaque facade:
"Beyond the terraced streets, we could see the backdrop of green hills. From a distance, the elaborate Victorian frontages of the factories and civic halls looked impressive; but close-up you could see the sprayed messages and the chicken-wire over the blackened glass."
A river on the outskirts of Karl's home town, and the scene of his most terrible boyhood secret is, "...a skinned mass of dark muscle and yellow fat." Even a lover's idyll is tarnished with an ominous, disturbing air; when Karl and David dance together, it is, "...awkwardly, walled in by moving shadows."
If a reader is not interested in rock music, particularly in the various dealings that constitute the day-to-day life of a working rock band, then he/she might find the book to be overly encumbered with minutiae. For me, Lane's detailed descriptions of the writing, production, arrangement, recording and performing of the songs was spot on. The song lyrics were always revealing and the "reviews" of Triangle's concerts and recordings brilliantly aped the pretentious UK rock press.
While reading this book, I was constantly aware of the writer's lyrical skill with words, yet this only enhanced the emotional impact of the story, never distracted from it. This is a beautiful and carefully crafted work. Highly recommended to fans of music, queer literature or just great writing.
February 28, 2016
Rating: 3.5 stars
I'm not even sure how to get into this book. It took me forever to read. And I mean forever. Normally, it bugs me if I leave a book half read for too long but this one just didn't call me back. At all.
The writing style just bored me to death. Even when something major was happening I could just feel the need to yawn and 'rest my eyes'. And this languid feel was made worse by the fact I normally read before bed so the way it was written made it really hard for me to stay awake. Usually a book sucks me in completely and I end up not going to bed until 4 just to finish it but not this one, oh no. This made me look at my watch and think, I don't care if its only 7 pm, its time for an early night. In the end I actually scheduled when I was going to read it (which is something I have never ever done before) but after successfully finishing it, I can honestly say I'm glad I read it.
I really wanted to read this book. As soon as I laid eyes on it I knew that I wanted it and had to read it, which probably made the dreary style seem worse. Picking it off the shelf and seeing that it was all about music, the Birmingham scene and that it was based on Joy Division made my eyes wide and my heart flutter. I felt just as addicted to Karl as David felt, despite my growing hate for him. I wanted so much for the band, grasping onto hopes of their success before my heart shattered at the ending, even though I knew where it was going.
Lane, despite his languid style, also made the band feel very real. They were definitely the sort of band I'd find myself loving and buying every piece of music I could find. Another very clever factor Lane added in was the quotes from the magazines and a discography at the end. This made the band seem so real that I actually (stupidly) found myself googling them just to find a 70's Japanese band also called Triangle.
From Blue To Black is definitely a book for the more serious reader (which, on reflection, probably isn't me) and I would recommend that you give it a go.
I'm not even sure how to get into this book. It took me forever to read. And I mean forever. Normally, it bugs me if I leave a book half read for too long but this one just didn't call me back. At all.
The writing style just bored me to death. Even when something major was happening I could just feel the need to yawn and 'rest my eyes'. And this languid feel was made worse by the fact I normally read before bed so the way it was written made it really hard for me to stay awake. Usually a book sucks me in completely and I end up not going to bed until 4 just to finish it but not this one, oh no. This made me look at my watch and think, I don't care if its only 7 pm, its time for an early night. In the end I actually scheduled when I was going to read it (which is something I have never ever done before) but after successfully finishing it, I can honestly say I'm glad I read it.
I really wanted to read this book. As soon as I laid eyes on it I knew that I wanted it and had to read it, which probably made the dreary style seem worse. Picking it off the shelf and seeing that it was all about music, the Birmingham scene and that it was based on Joy Division made my eyes wide and my heart flutter. I felt just as addicted to Karl as David felt, despite my growing hate for him. I wanted so much for the band, grasping onto hopes of their success before my heart shattered at the ending, even though I knew where it was going.
Lane, despite his languid style, also made the band feel very real. They were definitely the sort of band I'd find myself loving and buying every piece of music I could find. Another very clever factor Lane added in was the quotes from the magazines and a discography at the end. This made the band seem so real that I actually (stupidly) found myself googling them just to find a 70's Japanese band also called Triangle.
From Blue To Black is definitely a book for the more serious reader (which, on reflection, probably isn't me) and I would recommend that you give it a go.
March 28, 2018
sharply written and slyly funny: 'their haircuts alone were enough to get them signed to Creation.'
March 23, 2022
I didn’t get on with this novel when I first read it. I’m not sure why. It may have been because I didn’t want to read about people who had a creative outlet for their nihilism. Whatever the reason, revisiting it now, I can see why Joel Lane’s work is so loved (the novel has just been re-issued, 20 years after its first publication.)
First, that outlet. From Blue to Black has as its central characters two members of a post-punk band, and it’s their immersion in music that ameliorates an otherwise bleak existence of sexual power games, substance use, and the near-impossibility of moving on from youthful trauma. At one point, the narrator observes of two fans ‘I wish I'd been a tenth as clued-up about music at their age’; a song by Kitchens of Distinction ‘takes the violence of the last words and drags it down into a whirlpool, tearing at itself, finding release only in exhaustion’; ‘jagged electronic riffs’ were ‘a deep blue-black pulse that held you down and stroked you into pain.’
The way in which Lane uses music is as psychologically acute as it is impassioned. The same could be said for his emotional layering. But for me, it’s his writing about place that makes the novel. His descriptions and scene-setting bring to mind the relentlessness of Kerry Hadley-Pryce’s post-industrial Black Country – all oil-spills and nature – and the overt symbolism of Lee Rourke’s The Canal. And then, at parties where:
‘The light came from pink bulbs in modernist fibre-glass lamps on the tables. In the flawless kitchen, silver cans of Grolsch and bottles of dry white wine perspired brightly on the Formica shelf. Black plastic bowls of nuts, Twiglets or pretzels were placed on every available surface.’
I am reminded of the environment explored by Cath O’Flynn in What Was Lost, a more superficially appealing – if wry – take on the dehumanising effects of late capitalist consumption. Despite these resonances however, Lane’s writing is unmistakeable, distinctive, out on its own…
First, that outlet. From Blue to Black has as its central characters two members of a post-punk band, and it’s their immersion in music that ameliorates an otherwise bleak existence of sexual power games, substance use, and the near-impossibility of moving on from youthful trauma. At one point, the narrator observes of two fans ‘I wish I'd been a tenth as clued-up about music at their age’; a song by Kitchens of Distinction ‘takes the violence of the last words and drags it down into a whirlpool, tearing at itself, finding release only in exhaustion’; ‘jagged electronic riffs’ were ‘a deep blue-black pulse that held you down and stroked you into pain.’
The way in which Lane uses music is as psychologically acute as it is impassioned. The same could be said for his emotional layering. But for me, it’s his writing about place that makes the novel. His descriptions and scene-setting bring to mind the relentlessness of Kerry Hadley-Pryce’s post-industrial Black Country – all oil-spills and nature – and the overt symbolism of Lee Rourke’s The Canal. And then, at parties where:
‘The light came from pink bulbs in modernist fibre-glass lamps on the tables. In the flawless kitchen, silver cans of Grolsch and bottles of dry white wine perspired brightly on the Formica shelf. Black plastic bowls of nuts, Twiglets or pretzels were placed on every available surface.’
I am reminded of the environment explored by Cath O’Flynn in What Was Lost, a more superficially appealing – if wry – take on the dehumanising effects of late capitalist consumption. Despite these resonances however, Lane’s writing is unmistakeable, distinctive, out on its own…
October 23, 2013
The title of this book is wonderfully appropriate, both in its suggestion of the book’s noir genre and in its reflection of the incredible monochromatic atmosphere Joel Lane conjures up.
Because there is almost no colour in his narrative. Everything described is either black, white or in endless shades of gray, with only the occasional explosion of vivid colour (a pink sunset, a blaze of orange fire) to break the monotony. But this isn’t a criticism, since the device captures the mood of the novel to perfection. Its prose may be colour-less but it’s never colourless.
The main character, David, himself lives a colourless life, playing bass in a band and drifting through the suburbs and bars of Birmingham, footloose but hardly fancy-free. Until he meets Karl, the tortured genius lead-singer, and falls in love. Karl brings colour to David’s life, but it’s colour of a strange, dark sort, all dark tones and heavy shadows. Because Karl is a manic depressive and a burgeoning alcoholic, and in trying to destroy himself he begins to take David down with him.
The ensuing relationship between the two men, told in the context of the rise and fall of an eighties indie rock band, is an emotional roller-coaster and the book packs a powerful punch, so much so that I was emotionally black and blue by the end. Happily-ever-after this book emphatically ain’t.
Every nuance of language is masterly. The pared down narrative flows from the dingy back streets of Birmingham to the dingier backstages and bars of a rock tour via the dark, even nightmarish landscapes of a depressive’s mind. The descriptions are vivid and sometimes shocking, the action tense, and there is an eerie, ghostlike quality to some of the scenes.
‘From Blue to Black’ is not a book to cosy up with. It lacks any kind of a happy ending, its characters are sometimes aggravating, sometimes downright unlikeable and the downward spiral of destruction is relentless. And yet, I thoroughly enjoyed the read. Yes, I was exhausted by the time I’d finished it, but I felt that I’d read something worthwhile, something different from the endless array of bright romances and glitzy thrillers that fill the bookshop shelves. Black and blue it might be, but it’s also extremely good.
Because there is almost no colour in his narrative. Everything described is either black, white or in endless shades of gray, with only the occasional explosion of vivid colour (a pink sunset, a blaze of orange fire) to break the monotony. But this isn’t a criticism, since the device captures the mood of the novel to perfection. Its prose may be colour-less but it’s never colourless.
The main character, David, himself lives a colourless life, playing bass in a band and drifting through the suburbs and bars of Birmingham, footloose but hardly fancy-free. Until he meets Karl, the tortured genius lead-singer, and falls in love. Karl brings colour to David’s life, but it’s colour of a strange, dark sort, all dark tones and heavy shadows. Because Karl is a manic depressive and a burgeoning alcoholic, and in trying to destroy himself he begins to take David down with him.
The ensuing relationship between the two men, told in the context of the rise and fall of an eighties indie rock band, is an emotional roller-coaster and the book packs a powerful punch, so much so that I was emotionally black and blue by the end. Happily-ever-after this book emphatically ain’t.
Every nuance of language is masterly. The pared down narrative flows from the dingy back streets of Birmingham to the dingier backstages and bars of a rock tour via the dark, even nightmarish landscapes of a depressive’s mind. The descriptions are vivid and sometimes shocking, the action tense, and there is an eerie, ghostlike quality to some of the scenes.
‘From Blue to Black’ is not a book to cosy up with. It lacks any kind of a happy ending, its characters are sometimes aggravating, sometimes downright unlikeable and the downward spiral of destruction is relentless. And yet, I thoroughly enjoyed the read. Yes, I was exhausted by the time I’d finished it, but I felt that I’d read something worthwhile, something different from the endless array of bright romances and glitzy thrillers that fill the bookshop shelves. Black and blue it might be, but it’s also extremely good.
December 26, 2010
Oh wow. Not often does a book take me utterly surprised.
I wasn't expecting much from this music fanboy novel (I'm not well versed in music fandom in general, which left me a bit lost before I Wikipediaed and Youtubed the songs mentioned, after which things began to shape together) - but WOW, I was so surprised that what I was actually reading about was the story of a LGBT rock band inspired by Morrisey or something.
It's not like they warn you that the characters come out of the closet randomly as they begin to snog another man in the midst of a sweaty, boozy pub, but I wondered, would I perceive a book differently if I knew or didn't know this book was about gay men in a rock band?
What DO you do when book characters are suddenly not only out of the closet, but getting jiggy in your face without so much as shame in their identity? That's what I found an odd yet compelling drive to read this, because the book jacket makes no mention of this in the blurb - you experience the full blown burst of homosexuality hit you in the face first hand without so much as a hint, and much like decent rock and roll in the punk genre I think that best reflects the shock that really good rock can deliver to your system.
This book doesn't baby you at all, it slams your head right into the cold ice bath the beers are floating around in, and some of the characterisations here can chill you to the bone. It just floored me that male characters could be introduced as gay in such a way that it was like "whatever, I like snogging dudes, what's your problem mate?" - really this shouldn't detract from the rest of the book (it doesn't) but sudden sexuality in a book where you just don't see it coming is always going to raise a few eyebrows when you expected a kind of Nick Hornby style novel instead. I'd recommend it to music fans, and people who want to try something interesting.
I wasn't expecting much from this music fanboy novel (I'm not well versed in music fandom in general, which left me a bit lost before I Wikipediaed and Youtubed the songs mentioned, after which things began to shape together) - but WOW, I was so surprised that what I was actually reading about was the story of a LGBT rock band inspired by Morrisey or something.
It's not like they warn you that the characters come out of the closet randomly as they begin to snog another man in the midst of a sweaty, boozy pub, but I wondered, would I perceive a book differently if I knew or didn't know this book was about gay men in a rock band?
What DO you do when book characters are suddenly not only out of the closet, but getting jiggy in your face without so much as shame in their identity? That's what I found an odd yet compelling drive to read this, because the book jacket makes no mention of this in the blurb - you experience the full blown burst of homosexuality hit you in the face first hand without so much as a hint, and much like decent rock and roll in the punk genre I think that best reflects the shock that really good rock can deliver to your system.
This book doesn't baby you at all, it slams your head right into the cold ice bath the beers are floating around in, and some of the characterisations here can chill you to the bone. It just floored me that male characters could be introduced as gay in such a way that it was like "whatever, I like snogging dudes, what's your problem mate?" - really this shouldn't detract from the rest of the book (it doesn't) but sudden sexuality in a book where you just don't see it coming is always going to raise a few eyebrows when you expected a kind of Nick Hornby style novel instead. I'd recommend it to music fans, and people who want to try something interesting.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 3, 2019
DNF at ~70%. Had this been a memoir of a band I was fond of (or even vaguely familiar with) it might’ve held my interest. Had this had a plot any more detailed than ‘rock band drink, argue, fuck, play music, get introspective and argue some more’, it might have held my interest. As it was, all the characters I didn’t develop any interest in, all the verisimilitude felt like padding for the repetition, and reading about sex and drugs and rock and roll is much less fun than I recall living it was :-)
May 28, 2014
Sheer brilliance. Not an easy or comfortable read, but worth the effort for the pared-down prose, atmospheric descriptions, hauntingly-portrayed characters, and oddly monochrome colour scheme, which is broken by sudden bursts of orange and red in a way that mirrors the shocking events of the plot.
January 27, 2020
Very well - if ever so slightly over-earnestly - written (but that’s only if I am being harsh). Affecting, evocative and bleakly romantic.
March 26, 2025
It's a shame I never met Joel Lane. We obviously shared an obnoxious love for Birmingham and its identity as a mixed bag of cultures, especially in and around the music scene. In this case, a small indie rock band; Triangle, no doubt based on some obscure band before my time in the late 80s and early 90s.
The novelty of seeing Birmingham represented in real and accurate detail was the initial draw of this book, and the love and reverence for Birmingham's pubs and clubs is plain to see. However, as I read on, it became apparent that this book is a tragic love story between Triangle's lead Karl and bass player David. I honestly don't know if this book is queer fiction or if it's a love story that features two gay men. Plenty of people are better educated than me on the topic, but I enjoyed the story without getting lost in that singular descriptor of the characters.
It's a beautifully tangled mess of the frustrations of music production and the frustrations of loving someone emotionally unavailable. Whole pages are dedicated to the art of mixing before shifting entirely to the pain of knowing your partner in music, AND love is seeking love and comfort beyond your arms. The characters are never portrayed as the next big rock hit, and neither are they portrayed as the 20th century Brummie Romeo and Juliet.
I'm basing this on basically nothing but my own conjecture, but surely this book was ahead of the time in its depiction of mental health. It's presented with gritty realism that echoes Birmingham's brutalist architecture of the time.
I can't say much more without giving away the plot, but this book and Joel Lane's name should occupy any native Brummie's book shelves. For all those wearing 0121 shirts and drinking around Digbeth's indie bars, Joel Lane's work speaks for you all as a Brummie, even if you're not gay, a rock fan, or frustrated bass player.
The novelty of seeing Birmingham represented in real and accurate detail was the initial draw of this book, and the love and reverence for Birmingham's pubs and clubs is plain to see. However, as I read on, it became apparent that this book is a tragic love story between Triangle's lead Karl and bass player David. I honestly don't know if this book is queer fiction or if it's a love story that features two gay men. Plenty of people are better educated than me on the topic, but I enjoyed the story without getting lost in that singular descriptor of the characters.
It's a beautifully tangled mess of the frustrations of music production and the frustrations of loving someone emotionally unavailable. Whole pages are dedicated to the art of mixing before shifting entirely to the pain of knowing your partner in music, AND love is seeking love and comfort beyond your arms. The characters are never portrayed as the next big rock hit, and neither are they portrayed as the 20th century Brummie Romeo and Juliet.
I'm basing this on basically nothing but my own conjecture, but surely this book was ahead of the time in its depiction of mental health. It's presented with gritty realism that echoes Birmingham's brutalist architecture of the time.
I can't say much more without giving away the plot, but this book and Joel Lane's name should occupy any native Brummie's book shelves. For all those wearing 0121 shirts and drinking around Digbeth's indie bars, Joel Lane's work speaks for you all as a Brummie, even if you're not gay, a rock fan, or frustrated bass player.
April 20, 2019
A couple of years ago I went through a phase of buying books with 'Blue' in the title, whether or not I'd heard of them. 90% of the time, the books were excellent, introducing me to authors I subsequently pursued (John Lawton top of the list, and Simone Bucholz a later example).
This I might not have come across were it not for Tess Makovesky's recommendation, and certainly not found so much to enjoy had it not been for Nick Davies ensuring I kept in touch with 1990's music, as well as visited Birmingham a few times. (Nick: I'll pass it to you ASAP)
To start, the language sent me high, so original and stunning. Forever driving forward, fast and, at times, at a crazy angle. Secondly, the music scene. I am woefully incapable of hearing the intricacies of music, but in the same way that I valued learning about playing the cello in Patrick Gale's 'Take Nothing With You' I did so here.
The relationship had that throat-gripping, intense sense of doom throughout, its ups and downs and interactions painfully depicted, along with the politics of the time, and impossible not to keep reading right to the end.
This I might not have come across were it not for Tess Makovesky's recommendation, and certainly not found so much to enjoy had it not been for Nick Davies ensuring I kept in touch with 1990's music, as well as visited Birmingham a few times. (Nick: I'll pass it to you ASAP)
To start, the language sent me high, so original and stunning. Forever driving forward, fast and, at times, at a crazy angle. Secondly, the music scene. I am woefully incapable of hearing the intricacies of music, but in the same way that I valued learning about playing the cello in Patrick Gale's 'Take Nothing With You' I did so here.
The relationship had that throat-gripping, intense sense of doom throughout, its ups and downs and interactions painfully depicted, along with the politics of the time, and impossible not to keep reading right to the end.
August 28, 2025
I so wanted to give this more than 3 stars. Unfortunately, the narration style was fairly unemotional and boring for me - hardly any introspective thoughts. The 'tortured genius artist', Karl, was intriguing at first but so tedious by even the first third of the book. I enjoyed the last third of the book much more than the first two, could even think about giving the last third a 4-stars.
I appreciate I am probably not the target market for this book, as a lot of the 70s/80s rock music references and famous musician allusions went totally over my head. I didn't understand them, and therefore couldn't properly enjoy the book.
Our protagonist was only okay, he felt very bland and only really occasionally showed some spirit. Wish I had more positive things to say.
I appreciate I am probably not the target market for this book, as a lot of the 70s/80s rock music references and famous musician allusions went totally over my head. I didn't understand them, and therefore couldn't properly enjoy the book.
Our protagonist was only okay, he felt very bland and only really occasionally showed some spirit. Wish I had more positive things to say.
July 13, 2025
A disappointing read this one. It's like Joel Lane was trying to write a gay fiction based entirely on Ian Curtis.
The lead singer of an edgy thrash band is "the tortured artist", drinking heavily, taking lots of drugs, unable to have meaningful relationships, dies of a possible seizure, this ringing any bells?!
The writing feels sloppy, the music scene descriptions are meaningless unless you're really into thrash/heavy metal and the overly detailed sex scenes feel unnecessary to the storytelling.
1 star fare that was very dissatisfying.
The lead singer of an edgy thrash band is "the tortured artist", drinking heavily, taking lots of drugs, unable to have meaningful relationships, dies of a possible seizure, this ringing any bells?!
The writing feels sloppy, the music scene descriptions are meaningless unless you're really into thrash/heavy metal and the overly detailed sex scenes feel unnecessary to the storytelling.
1 star fare that was very dissatisfying.
January 6, 2021
Just like the Midlands this is a brutal place to find yourself. A story of youth, of love and of finding your way.
I found myself smiling at his way with words, aching for my teenage years, craving live music and those not-so-fleeting connections with friends and lovers and.
I found myself smiling at his way with words, aching for my teenage years, craving live music and those not-so-fleeting connections with friends and lovers and.
June 16, 2020
I feel like I fell asleep listening to Bauhaus and this was a dark fantasy my mind created for me 🖤
December 23, 2021
appreciate the bassist representation but nobody talks about music the way anyone in this does
May 25, 2022
"Nobody really belongs anywhere. I don't think we go where we belong when we die. It's more like...like the airwaves, messages drifting around. That's what left of us, messages."
The latest release from Influx Press is a reprint of the 2000 Joel Lane novel From Blue to Black. Taking place in Birmingham in the early 1990s, Triangle is a cult post-punk band led by singer-guitarist Karl who is haunted be ghosts and dangers. When David joins the band to play bass, it begins a passionate and torrid affair between the two with hazy lines that end in confusion and pain.
"Where do they go, where does their time belong? Swimming through the river underground. Past the stinking bodies and the photographs. Until there's nothing left except a sound."
Originally written over twenty years ago, From Blue to Black is a feverish blitz of the love and lust Karl and David. Along with the customary traps of a band trying to make it, Joel Lane tries to make sense of our relation to sound and mortality. There is a belief held by Karl that suspects that sounds constantly remain alive even when inaudible to the human ear. Much like an everlasting spirit that resonates and surrounds us on and on until the end of time. Perhaps this is why the artist creates, to live on in immortality no matter how micro a scope that would be. I wonder if Karl believed it to be for reasons of ego or our deep need to be connected and make sense of our world.
"The music can't die. But that's the really terrible thing. No sound ever dies. It echoes through the universe, breaking up. They're all floating around us. In mindless orbit. Some day, you'll hear them all again."
Far more than a run-of-the-mill story of rock fiction, From Blue to Black is filled with sex, drugs, rock n roll with a deeply felt humanity in its characters. Along with a wonderful descriptive world-building and a list of bands referred to, I found Joel Lane's reprinted debut to be a totally immersive read. I did find some of the parts hitting really close to home and the agony and pains of Karl and David's emotions written with immediacy and compassion. Joel Lane's From Blue to Black is definitely worth exploring as either a fan of rock n roll and/or literary fiction.
The latest release from Influx Press is a reprint of the 2000 Joel Lane novel From Blue to Black. Taking place in Birmingham in the early 1990s, Triangle is a cult post-punk band led by singer-guitarist Karl who is haunted be ghosts and dangers. When David joins the band to play bass, it begins a passionate and torrid affair between the two with hazy lines that end in confusion and pain.
"Where do they go, where does their time belong? Swimming through the river underground. Past the stinking bodies and the photographs. Until there's nothing left except a sound."
Originally written over twenty years ago, From Blue to Black is a feverish blitz of the love and lust Karl and David. Along with the customary traps of a band trying to make it, Joel Lane tries to make sense of our relation to sound and mortality. There is a belief held by Karl that suspects that sounds constantly remain alive even when inaudible to the human ear. Much like an everlasting spirit that resonates and surrounds us on and on until the end of time. Perhaps this is why the artist creates, to live on in immortality no matter how micro a scope that would be. I wonder if Karl believed it to be for reasons of ego or our deep need to be connected and make sense of our world.
"The music can't die. But that's the really terrible thing. No sound ever dies. It echoes through the universe, breaking up. They're all floating around us. In mindless orbit. Some day, you'll hear them all again."
Far more than a run-of-the-mill story of rock fiction, From Blue to Black is filled with sex, drugs, rock n roll with a deeply felt humanity in its characters. Along with a wonderful descriptive world-building and a list of bands referred to, I found Joel Lane's reprinted debut to be a totally immersive read. I did find some of the parts hitting really close to home and the agony and pains of Karl and David's emotions written with immediacy and compassion. Joel Lane's From Blue to Black is definitely worth exploring as either a fan of rock n roll and/or literary fiction.
November 2, 2024
4.5 stars
“Sometimes it's easier to live with chaos than with patterns that destroy hope.”
even though i found this novel because of its seeming relevance to music i've come to understand that at its heart from blue to black is a noir that uses music as a vehicle. joel lane employs the geography of black country and the precarious relationship between two band members to weave a tale of unrest, injustice and death.
in this bleak and unflinching narrative about the fear of sincerity and the political and emotional cost of the truth and lies of life and relationships, i fell in love with the characters' security in their sexuality and affinities. the refusal to define (and by extension limit) themselves was exhilarating and the approach of trauma and mental illness-especially in a scene so deeply afflicted by toxic masculinity-was remarkable. the sense of alienation of being queer in largely non-queer spaces was so so well done i could cry and the violence of making people hate you so they won't have to mourn you that came as an inescapable consequence of enduring too much for too long was incredibly moving and grounding.
“Do you remember the Gulf War? Those images of bombers raining fire across the sky? Did anyone really see it? The way everyone talked, it was a firework display. Show people death and ruin, and they press the pause button, freeze the frame. Do you understand?”
the intricate details with which the setting is described gives the uncomfortable impression of a lens that is too close to the subject for the eye to tell what it's seeing. yet halfway through the story i was struck by lane's ability to build up to the climax, an element absent in literature more and more these days. the tense feeling of a mostly monochromatic setting and the dreamlike and eerie atmosphere rise to a crescendo that's as satisfying as it is hollow; the reverberation of an aggressive ballad.
and yet there is no such thing as the whole story. the truth is subjective and what we carry with us is nothing but the loudest notes, full of passion and hope. and maybe it's time to turn back not hoping to catch a glimpse of a ghost of the past but hoping there's nothing dragging us back.
“Sometimes it's easier to live with chaos than with patterns that destroy hope.”
even though i found this novel because of its seeming relevance to music i've come to understand that at its heart from blue to black is a noir that uses music as a vehicle. joel lane employs the geography of black country and the precarious relationship between two band members to weave a tale of unrest, injustice and death.
in this bleak and unflinching narrative about the fear of sincerity and the political and emotional cost of the truth and lies of life and relationships, i fell in love with the characters' security in their sexuality and affinities. the refusal to define (and by extension limit) themselves was exhilarating and the approach of trauma and mental illness-especially in a scene so deeply afflicted by toxic masculinity-was remarkable. the sense of alienation of being queer in largely non-queer spaces was so so well done i could cry and the violence of making people hate you so they won't have to mourn you that came as an inescapable consequence of enduring too much for too long was incredibly moving and grounding.
“Do you remember the Gulf War? Those images of bombers raining fire across the sky? Did anyone really see it? The way everyone talked, it was a firework display. Show people death and ruin, and they press the pause button, freeze the frame. Do you understand?”
the intricate details with which the setting is described gives the uncomfortable impression of a lens that is too close to the subject for the eye to tell what it's seeing. yet halfway through the story i was struck by lane's ability to build up to the climax, an element absent in literature more and more these days. the tense feeling of a mostly monochromatic setting and the dreamlike and eerie atmosphere rise to a crescendo that's as satisfying as it is hollow; the reverberation of an aggressive ballad.
and yet there is no such thing as the whole story. the truth is subjective and what we carry with us is nothing but the loudest notes, full of passion and hope. and maybe it's time to turn back not hoping to catch a glimpse of a ghost of the past but hoping there's nothing dragging us back.
March 4, 2023
Joel Lane is a writer wholly new to me, and there's nothing more exciting about encountering an author for the first time and thinking "my God, who are you and where have you been my whole life?"
The best way I can describe the prose of From Blue to Black is cold. Cold and colorless, which does not necessarily sound like a compliment, I know, but it matches both the setting and the music of the band (perhaps the only band book I've ever read where the prose matches the style of the music) and just the general tone of the book so perfectly it's difficult to find fault with it. The coldness of the prose and setting and, well, everything is at times alienating, but it matches the feelings of alienation the characters frequently feel towards each other.
Lane packs everything he possibly can into this 224 page novel- music, love, gay politics, politics politics, anti-Irish sentiment, mental illness, sexual trauma- it's amazing that I never at any point felt overwhelmed (though frequently, emotionally exhausted). My only issue was the inclusion of politics-politics- I'm not entirely sure why it's important we know the band supports the Labour party (perhaps to get away from the often far-right aesthetics post-punk flirts with?), but otherwise, I thought the issues were well-done. I particularly enjoyed the discussion about queer politics, and the way that gay artists- particularly gay musical artists- often get forced into pigeonholes. The "gay writer" vs "writer who happens to be gay" dilemma.
I'm told this is somewhat atypical of Joel Lane's work, given that he seems to be mostly known for speculative fiction (something I'm absolutely not known for liking). While this book does have certain, slight speculative elements, they aren't intrusive at all, and at no point does the plot depend on those devices. Rather, they just add an interesting dimension to the book, reminding you that may not and never will get the whole story behind Triangle, and behind Karl at all. I highly recommend picking up a copy once it comes back into print on March 10th.
The best way I can describe the prose of From Blue to Black is cold. Cold and colorless, which does not necessarily sound like a compliment, I know, but it matches both the setting and the music of the band (perhaps the only band book I've ever read where the prose matches the style of the music) and just the general tone of the book so perfectly it's difficult to find fault with it. The coldness of the prose and setting and, well, everything is at times alienating, but it matches the feelings of alienation the characters frequently feel towards each other.
Lane packs everything he possibly can into this 224 page novel- music, love, gay politics, politics politics, anti-Irish sentiment, mental illness, sexual trauma- it's amazing that I never at any point felt overwhelmed (though frequently, emotionally exhausted). My only issue was the inclusion of politics-politics- I'm not entirely sure why it's important we know the band supports the Labour party (perhaps to get away from the often far-right aesthetics post-punk flirts with?), but otherwise, I thought the issues were well-done. I particularly enjoyed the discussion about queer politics, and the way that gay artists- particularly gay musical artists- often get forced into pigeonholes. The "gay writer" vs "writer who happens to be gay" dilemma.
I'm told this is somewhat atypical of Joel Lane's work, given that he seems to be mostly known for speculative fiction (something I'm absolutely not known for liking). While this book does have certain, slight speculative elements, they aren't intrusive at all, and at no point does the plot depend on those devices. Rather, they just add an interesting dimension to the book, reminding you that may not and never will get the whole story behind Triangle, and behind Karl at all. I highly recommend picking up a copy once it comes back into print on March 10th.
August 3, 2013
This book stunned me the first time I read it.
In fact I can't think of a novel that has affected me in quite the same way. It literally lived with me for weeks afterwards.
Joel Lane's words are precise, skilfully deployed and devastating.
The novel has a strong sense of place, weaving the collapse of relationships, cities, communities and characters minds together. The effect is almost dreamlike but also unnerving.
This is a tale of the industrial heartland. A tale of love, loss, powerlessness, politics, sex, drugs and indie rock and roll. It's also an incredibly astute commentary on what happens when things fall apart - when the fabric of people, relationships, cities and previous rituals begin to unravel.
I can't recommend it enough.
In fact I can't think of a novel that has affected me in quite the same way. It literally lived with me for weeks afterwards.
Joel Lane's words are precise, skilfully deployed and devastating.
The novel has a strong sense of place, weaving the collapse of relationships, cities, communities and characters minds together. The effect is almost dreamlike but also unnerving.
This is a tale of the industrial heartland. A tale of love, loss, powerlessness, politics, sex, drugs and indie rock and roll. It's also an incredibly astute commentary on what happens when things fall apart - when the fabric of people, relationships, cities and previous rituals begin to unravel.
I can't recommend it enough.
September 3, 2014
Any contemporary fiction fans that also have a thing for the late 80s-early 90s Brit music scene should get a hold of this book. In the end I felt as if the band Triangle had actually existed and I had actually heard their songs and been to their gigs. Describing music through words is no easy task but Joel Lave pulls it off wonderfully, combining it with a dark fiction twist in a post-industrial Midlands setting. Pairings like that can easily go wrong, but in this case, the result is hauntingly brilliant.
April 28, 2015
Great sense of life in the 1980s in the black triangle sad dark and amazing
August 11, 2022
so alive and so desperately sad, feels vivid and full of detail, I think Joel Lane was a very special writer
March 31, 2023
Got laughed at when I told someone about this book and said I got a real sense of place from it and really enjoyed the feel I got of Birmingham. But I’ll stand by that remark.
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