What do you think?
Rate this book
The Train in the Night: A Story of Music and Loss
An account of one man's struggle to recover from the loss of his greatest passion in life -- and a hymn to music.
How do you lose music? Then having lost it, what do you do next? Nick Coleman found out the morning he woke up to a world changed forever by Sudden Neursosensory Hearing Loss.
The Train in the Night is an account of one man's struggle to recover from the loss of his greatest passion in life -- and to go one step further than to restore his ability not only to hear but to think about and feel music.
Of all our relationships with art, the one we enjoy with music is the most complex, the most mysterious and, for reasons that cannot be explained by science alone, the most emotionally charged. Nothing about that relationship is simple. And yet it is perhaps through music that we make the most intimate contact with our sense of who we really are, at our most naked, unsophisticated, honest, and simplified. Through psalms, symphonies, love songs, ballads, boogie.
Where to start, though, for the newly deaf? Well, you can start, suggested a famous neurologist, by trying to remember every beautiful piece of music you've ever heard and then by thinking about that music over and over again until it begins to assume a new kind of form in your brain. You never know what might happen after that. And so that's what the author did. He went back to the origins of his passion -- the series of big bangs which kicked off his musical universe -- and then worked his way forwards through the back catalogue.
The Train in the Night is a memoir not quite like any other. It is about growing up, obviously. But it is also about becoming young again and trying to see the world for what it is, whether through the eyes of a teenage punk or those of a middle-aged music critic and father of two. It is about taste and love and suffering and delusion. It is about longing to be Keith Richards. It is funny, heartbreaking and, above all, true. It is a hymn to music.
How do you lose music? Then having lost it, what do you do next? Nick Coleman found out the morning he woke up to a world changed forever by Sudden Neursosensory Hearing Loss.
The Train in the Night is an account of one man's struggle to recover from the loss of his greatest passion in life -- and to go one step further than to restore his ability not only to hear but to think about and feel music.
Of all our relationships with art, the one we enjoy with music is the most complex, the most mysterious and, for reasons that cannot be explained by science alone, the most emotionally charged. Nothing about that relationship is simple. And yet it is perhaps through music that we make the most intimate contact with our sense of who we really are, at our most naked, unsophisticated, honest, and simplified. Through psalms, symphonies, love songs, ballads, boogie.
Where to start, though, for the newly deaf? Well, you can start, suggested a famous neurologist, by trying to remember every beautiful piece of music you've ever heard and then by thinking about that music over and over again until it begins to assume a new kind of form in your brain. You never know what might happen after that. And so that's what the author did. He went back to the origins of his passion -- the series of big bangs which kicked off his musical universe -- and then worked his way forwards through the back catalogue.
The Train in the Night is a memoir not quite like any other. It is about growing up, obviously. But it is also about becoming young again and trying to see the world for what it is, whether through the eyes of a teenage punk or those of a middle-aged music critic and father of two. It is about taste and love and suffering and delusion. It is about longing to be Keith Richards. It is funny, heartbreaking and, above all, true. It is a hymn to music.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published February 2, 2012
11 people are currently reading
153 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews
December 3, 2016
From BBC Radio 4 - Book of the week
Nick Coleman's account of how he struggled to overcome losing his hearing in one ear, and how he reinvented his relationship to music, his great passion in life. Today, the ability to hear is music is altered irrevocably, and the process of readjustment begins.
The Train in the Night is the new memoir by Nick Coleman and recounts how he lost his hearing in one ear, and how he struggled to overcome losing his inability to hear music by rethinking the complex relationship we all have with music from psalms and symphonies, to love songs, ballads and punk.
Nick Coleman grew up in the Fens. He has written about music throughout his career as a journalist for titles including NME, Time Out, the Independent and Independent on Sunday, The Times and The Wire.
Reader: Sean Foley, actor and comedian, is currently directing the West End production of The Ladykillers.
Abridged by Richard Hamilton
Produced by Elizabeth Allard.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01b90bt
Nick Coleman's account of how he struggled to overcome losing his hearing in one ear, and how he reinvented his relationship to music, his great passion in life. Today, the ability to hear is music is altered irrevocably, and the process of readjustment begins.
The Train in the Night is the new memoir by Nick Coleman and recounts how he lost his hearing in one ear, and how he struggled to overcome losing his inability to hear music by rethinking the complex relationship we all have with music from psalms and symphonies, to love songs, ballads and punk.
Nick Coleman grew up in the Fens. He has written about music throughout his career as a journalist for titles including NME, Time Out, the Independent and Independent on Sunday, The Times and The Wire.
Reader: Sean Foley, actor and comedian, is currently directing the West End production of The Ladykillers.
Abridged by Richard Hamilton
Produced by Elizabeth Allard.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b01b90bt
Read
December 18, 2013Picked this up at the library primarily on the strength of Nick Hornby's "Wonderful" on the cover. But did not care for it...read the first pages, then read/skimmed the rest. The material about his hearing loss and its impact on his life is heartbreaking, but as he explains to an old crush at the end, the book is about going deaf, and Cambridge in the 70s, and about music. The problem here is that it's mostly about growing up and having rock albums meaning everything to you. And while I might enjoy (or not) his ruminations on albums with which I'm familiar, his discussions about unfamiliar albums seem more like (in the words of Laurie Anderson) dancing about architecture.
I got to the end of this, but am not giving it a star rating, due to the skimming. And I'm filing it as abandoned.
I got to the end of this, but am not giving it a star rating, due to the skimming. And I'm filing it as abandoned.
February 11, 2012
One year down the line, I'm beginning to get swept up in how wonderful the Kindle is. And seeing how it panders to the absolute worst of consumerist tendencies, but understanding just how damn exciting that can be sometimes.
Heretofore my pleasure has been in the delayed gratification of keeping a little list of books I might like to read at some point, and scouring the shelves of whichever charity shop I found myself close to, snapping up any opportunity to tick somthing off my list for £3, max. Suits my current budget too.
My acquisition of this book was the polar opposite. Read the review in the Metro on Friday, immediately swtiched on my Kindle and preordered it, bristling with anticipation as I waited for its release date (partly berating myself for having spent £9 on something as horribly intangible as an electronic book - I cannot wholly suppress my inner Luddite), then switching the Kindle on again on Tuesday, and seeing the tantalising yet understatedly lower-case "new" appearing in the margin of the Home screen. The one-third finished Stephen Fry got unceremoniously kicked under the sofa (sorry Stephen).
I may well be in love with Nick Coleman. Now, I am wont to do this with men who write about music, well, who write passionately and personally about music. After reading '31 Songs' I would, at Nick Hornby's behest, blithely have walked out on my husband and children. But Coleman reaches the parts of my musical psyche that hold no interest for Hornby at all: languishing near the back of an adolescent orchestra, tick; the ineffable thrill of sacred choral music, tick.
It is not perfect; his use of interesting and unusual words (which demonstrated another of the Kindle's beauties - the built-in dictionary) was diluted when he used them more than once: "lambent" and "prolix" are just a couple of examples. And his diatribe against Cambridge, illuminating as it was, felt a bit shoehorned in.
But, just as you think it's going to go a bit too 'muso', you're brought back down to earth with the reminder that this is a personal, devastating, tragic story that makes you want to hug the book (then you remember that you're actually holding an electronic device, which is far less huggable. No matter...).
However, want to know what the freakiest thing about it was? When I switched the Kindle off at the end of the chapter where Coleman likens his father to Saint Jerome, in his study, with the lion... guess what the screensaver was?... Yup. The famous (apparently - I had to Google it - my knowledge of iconography is pretty woeful) Albrecht Durer painting. I don't know which option freaks me out more - that it was a massive coincidence or that my Kindle is far more self-aware than I give it credit for.
Anyway, I hope future reviews will be less to do with the Kindle than the book itself. Buy this book. Buy it now.
Heretofore my pleasure has been in the delayed gratification of keeping a little list of books I might like to read at some point, and scouring the shelves of whichever charity shop I found myself close to, snapping up any opportunity to tick somthing off my list for £3, max. Suits my current budget too.
My acquisition of this book was the polar opposite. Read the review in the Metro on Friday, immediately swtiched on my Kindle and preordered it, bristling with anticipation as I waited for its release date (partly berating myself for having spent £9 on something as horribly intangible as an electronic book - I cannot wholly suppress my inner Luddite), then switching the Kindle on again on Tuesday, and seeing the tantalising yet understatedly lower-case "new" appearing in the margin of the Home screen. The one-third finished Stephen Fry got unceremoniously kicked under the sofa (sorry Stephen).
I may well be in love with Nick Coleman. Now, I am wont to do this with men who write about music, well, who write passionately and personally about music. After reading '31 Songs' I would, at Nick Hornby's behest, blithely have walked out on my husband and children. But Coleman reaches the parts of my musical psyche that hold no interest for Hornby at all: languishing near the back of an adolescent orchestra, tick; the ineffable thrill of sacred choral music, tick.
It is not perfect; his use of interesting and unusual words (which demonstrated another of the Kindle's beauties - the built-in dictionary) was diluted when he used them more than once: "lambent" and "prolix" are just a couple of examples. And his diatribe against Cambridge, illuminating as it was, felt a bit shoehorned in.
But, just as you think it's going to go a bit too 'muso', you're brought back down to earth with the reminder that this is a personal, devastating, tragic story that makes you want to hug the book (then you remember that you're actually holding an electronic device, which is far less huggable. No matter...).
However, want to know what the freakiest thing about it was? When I switched the Kindle off at the end of the chapter where Coleman likens his father to Saint Jerome, in his study, with the lion... guess what the screensaver was?... Yup. The famous (apparently - I had to Google it - my knowledge of iconography is pretty woeful) Albrecht Durer painting. I don't know which option freaks me out more - that it was a massive coincidence or that my Kindle is far more self-aware than I give it credit for.
Anyway, I hope future reviews will be less to do with the Kindle than the book itself. Buy this book. Buy it now.
July 9, 2022
This was more music memoir than anything else, but when the author talked about how differently he heard music once he became deaf in one ear, it made me cry.
August 28, 2023
How anyone can give this book 3 or 4 stars, I've no idea. Have they ever tried writing a book themselves? It should get 5 stars on prose style alone. Just on being grammarly.
But if I was being wholly subjective, I'd give it ..... 5 stars.
Because I, too was born in 1960 and so underwent a parallel process in terms of discovering Stevie Wonder was God at a certain age.(Younger than him, but then girls are more mature.)
And I, too, suffer from deafness in one ear. I had already given thanks that I don't have tinnitus before I read his scrapyard description of it and his longing for silence.
And I, too, set up my hi-fi before anything else when I move house and know to the last detail every middle 8 + harmonies that the Beatles, Kirsty MaColl and Kate and Anna McGarrigle ever created.
So if you're into music, this is the book for you. Nick Coleman has managed to communicate the impact of particular bits of music as no one ever has (and believe me, I've tried.) He does it by recreating the context (hormones, dullness of postwar, smalltime homelife, me-generation aspiration) in which it hit him, so we get a great deal more than technical know how, which never works. If you are over 40, there will be something here for you to relate to and if you're under, just listen and learn.
Also, going deaf has made the guy think about aural perception as never before, which is (obviously) very interesting and deeply connected to the question, What is Reality Anyway? Hospital incompetence deeply amusing (sorry, Nick). Death of Father deeply upsetting. (I cried) and all I can say is, thanks Nick Coleman and very best wishes to you, Jane and the kids. (I'd add one of those smiley things but can't see one here.)
6 people found this helpful
But if I was being wholly subjective, I'd give it ..... 5 stars.
Because I, too was born in 1960 and so underwent a parallel process in terms of discovering Stevie Wonder was God at a certain age.(Younger than him, but then girls are more mature.)
And I, too, suffer from deafness in one ear. I had already given thanks that I don't have tinnitus before I read his scrapyard description of it and his longing for silence.
And I, too, set up my hi-fi before anything else when I move house and know to the last detail every middle 8 + harmonies that the Beatles, Kirsty MaColl and Kate and Anna McGarrigle ever created.
So if you're into music, this is the book for you. Nick Coleman has managed to communicate the impact of particular bits of music as no one ever has (and believe me, I've tried.) He does it by recreating the context (hormones, dullness of postwar, smalltime homelife, me-generation aspiration) in which it hit him, so we get a great deal more than technical know how, which never works. If you are over 40, there will be something here for you to relate to and if you're under, just listen and learn.
Also, going deaf has made the guy think about aural perception as never before, which is (obviously) very interesting and deeply connected to the question, What is Reality Anyway? Hospital incompetence deeply amusing (sorry, Nick). Death of Father deeply upsetting. (I cried) and all I can say is, thanks Nick Coleman and very best wishes to you, Jane and the kids. (I'd add one of those smiley things but can't see one here.)
6 people found this helpful
November 30, 2017
I really really loved this book! To read Coleman's prose is utter joy. Joy of the sort he must have enjoyed listening to music before his loss of hearing. I am totally deaf in one ear, either from birth or soon after, so a lot of what he describes I sympathise with, I have never been able to hear music in stereo, and never before been able to understand what it meant to others. But now I do. I loved the part where he tells of spinning himself on the spot to discover where the sound is coming from. And looking all around like an idiot when someone is calling you and you can't tell where from. I have often done both. So his journey through his deafness meant a lot to me, nevertheless I still rate his prose some of the best.
April 4, 2018
The slow pace I read this reflects on my enjoyment level.
I was intrigued by the concept and the blurb. I wish I’d taken a little longer to sample the writing.
I struggled with this, it was like wading through treacle. I’m not sure what I was hoping for, but it wasn’t this.
If you’re into stories about someone’s journey through music, including obscure references then you’ve hit the jackpot.
I feel bad, because the author seems like a good guy, his writing just didn’t work for me.
I was intrigued by the concept and the blurb. I wish I’d taken a little longer to sample the writing.
I struggled with this, it was like wading through treacle. I’m not sure what I was hoping for, but it wasn’t this.
If you’re into stories about someone’s journey through music, including obscure references then you’ve hit the jackpot.
I feel bad, because the author seems like a good guy, his writing just didn’t work for me.
June 24, 2025
A really enjoyable trawl through one man's musical taste development and growing up through his musical background all set with a background of hearing loss and tinnitus.
Unfortunately it seemed to lose its way towards the end and meandered around a bit going nowhere.
Unfortunately it seemed to lose its way towards the end and meandered around a bit going nowhere.
May 24, 2017
Thought provoking and engrossing. One man's relationship with music is challenged by his loss of hearing leading to questions about what part music plays in our lives
March 10, 2021
Written clearly with a straight ahead gaze and no self-pity even though a painful affliction decimated his hearing. Very engaging
September 20, 2024
Uccelin muistelmia musiikista ja tytöistä, ja vähän myös yhtäkkisestä kuulon alenemasta. Pitkäpiimäinen lukukokemus, mutta kuulovamma kiinnosti. Pelottavaa kirjassa on se, että kirjoittaja vammautui yhtäkkiä, eikä sille ole yksiselitteistä syytä, paremminkin vain teorioita huonojen sattumien sarjasta.
March 6, 2014
Listen here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/...
blurb - The Train in the Night is the new memoir by Nick Coleman and recounts how he lost his hearing in one ear, and how he struggled to overcome losing his inability to hear music by rethinking the complex relationship we all have with music from psalms and symphonies, to love songs, ballads and punk.
Nick Coleman grew up in the Fens. He has written about music throughout his career as a journalist for titles including NME, Time Out, the Independent and Independent on Sunday, The Times and The Wire.
Reader: Sean Foley, actor and comedian, is currently directing the West End production of The Ladykillers. Abridged by Richard Hamilton Produced by Elizabeth Allard.
The rhapsody from Dies Natalis by Finzi (Traherne's mystical poem) mentioned in episode 1 is here: http://youtu.be/JMAYUdwvLyM
This Beeb production is superb - they have cut in snatches of the music referred to, and seeing that I am in the age group he refers to (Mowtown's greatest vol III was my fav too!) then we are cooking on gas.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 4, 2014
What can I say? I enjoyed this so much I didn't want it to end. It's a strange mixture: partly the author's experiences after a sudden traumatic loss of hearing (one theme that runs throughout the book); also the story of someone obsessed with music and their relationship to it (another constant theme) interspersed with an account of growing up as a teenager in the mid 1970's.
High spots: His account of discussions of the merits of various albums amongst his friends; the musical transformation as punk hit the scene in latter half of the 1970's; Lulu (not that one) - another theme; his descriptions of the way he feels about music and how much it means to him.
If you were a teenager in the 1970's or love music or just enjoy a really human story about the trials of real life read it! Note: He does not like the music of Frank Zappa, he is a huge Stones fan and he does support Arsenal. In the interest of no surprises, I'm just putting this out there.
As tradition dictates I can only close this review with one word (to be shouted at the top of your voice: "Albatross!"
High spots: His account of discussions of the merits of various albums amongst his friends; the musical transformation as punk hit the scene in latter half of the 1970's; Lulu (not that one) - another theme; his descriptions of the way he feels about music and how much it means to him.
If you were a teenager in the 1970's or love music or just enjoy a really human story about the trials of real life read it! Note: He does not like the music of Frank Zappa, he is a huge Stones fan and he does support Arsenal. In the interest of no surprises, I'm just putting this out there.
As tradition dictates I can only close this review with one word (to be shouted at the top of your voice: "Albatross!"
January 30, 2016
A difficult one to summarise - it started abrasively but improved. When the author is talking about human nature and the experiences that we share as children and adolescants and people, he was witty and insightful. When he was talking about other stuff that I couldn't find relevance in, it just came over as the rambings of a frustrated music journalist (which, essentially, it was). Obviously a confident and proficient writer, some of the prose was beautiful, but on the other hand there were huge sections which I could only skim as it was so self-indulgent. All that said, I am aware that perhaps I was just born too late to 'get' a lot of the cultural references, and would recommend the book for people born in the early-mid 60's.
September 15, 2014
This is a book which could be interesting for many people, but I must confess my alienation while reading it. Probably because my teen age was more than music, we'll, indeed there wasn't much music in it, because I found and still find other compelling subjects of interest, but also because I feel like an alien reading it. Most of the music mentioned is foreign to me, except the Floyd, the Dead, the Stones and a couple others, but also because not being a Briton, I don't recognise the society, even the language. I must admit the writing must surely be very catching, but I got tired most of the time, had to indulge in skipping here and there and couldn't follow the book with full attention.
August 3, 2016
I chose this book from the library because it looked interesting and because it was something I thought someone I know would enjoy reading, but I thought I should read it first. The story of this man's love of music, how it shaped his life and the impact his hearing loss had on his life and his ability to participate in his world of music was all well-written, thought provoking and, in the end, makes you realize how "you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone". It was a pleasant memoir to read, despite the difficulties Nick encountered in his quest to get back into music.
July 10, 2012
A compelling, moving wonderful book from music journalist Nick Coleman. Autobiographical it charts Nick's lifelong love of music and the dramatic impact a loss of hearing played on this aspect of his life and beyond.
December 5, 2016
Great read...
This is an amazing book. Nick Coleman takes you through a period of his life when he felt the most detached from the one thing he loved the most- music. To go through the ordeal he did dealing with SNHL and to finally be able to listen to music again is amazing.
This is an amazing book. Nick Coleman takes you through a period of his life when he felt the most detached from the one thing he loved the most- music. To go through the ordeal he did dealing with SNHL and to finally be able to listen to music again is amazing.
April 8, 2012
Much more than the story of a guy who loses his hearing. Lyrical, thoughtful and captivating. My book of the year so far.
August 9, 2013
Hugely entertaining - particularly for anyone who was a teenager in 1976.
February 5, 2014
Beautifully crafted book. And I could relate to it, both as a teenager in the 70s, and to the nature of loss.
August 25, 2016
Despite the acclaim from Nick Hornby, I found this book to be rambling, lacking any insight, and ultimately pointless. A great premise boringly executed.
Read
March 5, 2018Moving account of someone coming to terms with sudden acute hearing loss: some great descriptions of growing up with music in the seventies.Makes you want to enjoy those musical experiences now,not wait until it's too late.
Displaying 1 - 23 of 23 reviews