I received an advance digital copy of this novel from the publisher, Macmillan Audio, via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
I’m having such a hard time coming up with a review for this book. When I finished, the only word that came to mind was less of a word and more of a sound. And I quote, “meh.” That was the sum of my thoughts. It was fine. There was nothing necessarily bad about it. The writing was fine. The pacing was fine. The characters were at least somewhat interesting. The plot wasn’t what I was hoping for, but it wasn’t terrible. I just felt that the synopsis had so much potential, and that the ball was dropped. In a month, I won’t remember anything about The Last Days of the Midnight Ramblers.
I was so excited for this book. I love books about bands and music and the drama behind the songs. That’s what I got with Daisy Jones and The Six, and I adored every minute of it. And that’s what I was expecting from The Last Days of the Midnight Ramblers. Unfortunately, that’s not what I got.
This is billed as the story of a ghost writer helping two of the biggest personalities associated with the band as they decide to tell their stories, fifty years after tragedy changed the band forever. While that is technically true, the plot focussed for more on the ghost writer herself than the band, and that was the main source of my disappointment. I hate to draw unfair comparisons between this book and Daisy Jones and The Six, but that story was so centered on the band and the music that they made that you kind of forgot that the writer was even present. Here, the writer is the focus of her own story. I get it, ghost writers are people too, and they experience some wild and unique things in their job. I could definitely be interested in the story of a ghost writer, if I hadn’t been promised something else.
The mystery of what happened to one of the founding members of the band on that fateful night fifty years ago, and who might have been involved, is for sure at the heart of the story. But this was far more about Mari’s detective work than anything else. Mari, the ghost writer, was definitely the main character. Which I might have been able to forgive if I hadn’t found her wholly unlikeable. And, most disappointing of all, there was no music truly present. A song or sound might be mentioned in passing, but music didn’t just take a back seat in this story; it was in the trunk, or tied to the roof of the car. It was the least musical music book I’ve ever read.
The story being told here was, as I stated earlier, fine. It just wasn’t what I was led to expect. I don’t feel like reading it was a waste of my time, per se, but I couldn’t help but be disappointed. The Last Days of the Midnight Ramblers could have been a showstopper. Instead, it was the literary equivalent of attending a concert where the headliner never shows, and the opening act doesn’t suck, but isn’t great.