What do you think?
Rate this book
One Three One: A Time-Shifting Gnostic Hooligan Road Novel
"Welcome to my hell, my home, my prison, my meditation these past sixteen years. What a place to die. But that's precisely why I was back."When drugged-up Time Traveller and '80s musical burnout Rock Section and his fellow English hooligans get kidnapped during Italia '90, there are ruinous implications. But now Rock has returned to Sardinia one final time to settle some scores and uncover the truth. He believes only Dutch cult leader Judge Barry Hertzog, still incarcerated on the island for the crime, can provide the answers. But through prescription drugs, the persistence of his driver Anna and a quest for the hidden ancient doorways strewn around Sardinia's only highway, the 131, Rock will discover that a greater truth awaits him. Judgement, consequences, hoodwinking on a grand scale, Gnosticism versus agnosticism...131 is a Gnostic whodunit that pursues readers' memories of all previous fiction into a peat bog and impales them with seven-foot-long pikes.
448 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 1, 2014
34 people are currently reading
270 people want to read
About the author
Julian Cope
30 books90 followersJulian Cope (born Julian David Cope, on 21 October 1957) is a British rock musician, author, antiquary, musicologist, poet and cultural commentator. Originally coming to prominence in 1978 as the singer and songwriter in Liverpool post-punk band The Teardrop Explodes, he has followed a solo career since 1983 and initiated musical side projects such as Queen Elizabeth, Brain Donor and Black Sheep. Additional to his own work as a musician, Cope remains an avid champion of obscure and underground music.
Cope is also a recognised authority on Neolithic culture, an outspoken political and cultural activist, and a fierce critic of contemporary Western society (with a noted and public interest in occultism, paganism and Goddess worship).
As an author and commentator, he has written two successive volumes of autobiography called Head-On (1994) and Repossessed (1999); two volumes of archaeology called The Modern Antiquarian (1998) and The Megalithic European (2004); and three volumes of musicology called Krautrocksampler (1995), Japrocksampler (2007) and Detroitrocksampler.
Cope is also a recognised authority on Neolithic culture, an outspoken political and cultural activist, and a fierce critic of contemporary Western society (with a noted and public interest in occultism, paganism and Goddess worship).
As an author and commentator, he has written two successive volumes of autobiography called Head-On (1994) and Repossessed (1999); two volumes of archaeology called The Modern Antiquarian (1998) and The Megalithic European (2004); and three volumes of musicology called Krautrocksampler (1995), Japrocksampler (2007) and Detroitrocksampler.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews
Read
May 15, 2014You've got to love a book which, in its final ten pages, still finds room for an extended riff on Van Der Graaf Generator gatefold art. Also featuring Nurse With Wound puns and a Half Man Half Biscuit subplot, plus the obligatory drug-fuelled stone-age time travel, Cope isn't making any misguided stabs at accessibility here; indeed, I'm not even sure if it's actually any cop. But I'm definitely glad I read it.
September 12, 2014
This is a weird book, an extremely weird book — as one would expect from Julian Cope, one of Britain's consistently weirdest men since his emergence from Liverpool's post-punk scene as The Teardrop Explode's frontman. Unfortunately, weirdness (general weirdness, druggy weirdness and Neolithic weirdness) only goes so far in terms of making a novel great, or even good. You'll probably come across words like Quixotic, Rabelaisian or Pynchonesque in reviews of One Three One, but for me the true comparison to be made is with Douglas Adams — the Douglas Adams of Dirk Gently's Detective Agency and The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul. Only not as good.
One Three One has been hyped to the stars in certain sections of the press, especially the likes of The Quietus and The Guardian and I had been very much looking forward to getting stuck into it. As someone who had read and enjoyed Cope's brace of autobiographies (Head-On and Repossessed) and valued his tome on Stone Age monuments (The Megalithic European) to such an extent that I gave it a mention in my own The Grotto, I was all set for a few nights of fresh, scintillating, off-the-wall use of language, wry and kooky observations and a hybridization of two of Cope's acknowledged areas of expertise — rock 'n' roll debauchery and the Megalithic. I am disappointed to write that the relish I experienced upon turning on my Kindle and clicking on One Three One very quickly wore off. Regrettably, the novel failed to live up to both the hype and my own expectations. One Three One is something of a damp squib and very much the least of any of Cope's books that I have read.
For me, the book fell down on many fronts. Style-wise, the druggy loon, first-person narrative voice employed with such success in the autobiographies fell very short of being able to carry an entire novel. After only a few pages, the narrator, Rock Section's, post-punk, drug-casualty verbal ticks began to grate. Enthusiasm or delight was expressed with phrases such as "Come on everyone" or "Oh yeah" and I began to dread the appearance of these at the ends of paragraphs. Do you follow, folks! Yeah! Get with it! The use of language during the passages where Rock Section is transported back in time ten thousand years was also annoying; think sub-Wicker Man mixed with classic Hollywood epic dialogue. There were also some clangers (was the 'flu around in the Stone Age and even if it was would it have been called as such?) and the use of relatively modern names for rivers and cities (the Dee, Paris, Oslo, Aberdeen) added to the irritation I felt while reading these chapters.
The plot is thin and not particularly credible. The fact that Rock Section can slip through portals in Neolithic monuments and travel back in time ten thousand years caused the least problems for me, which gives an idea of how strange the rest of the story is. The plot goes something like this: Rock Section was in a band in the late '80s–early '90s. These guys were mixed up in football hooliganism. They travelled to Sardinia during Italia '90 to follow England and cause a bit of argy-bargy. Bad things went down. Rock Section and his "firm" were kidnapped. A couple of them never made it back home. In the novel's present (2006) Rock Section travels back to Sardinia in order to come to terms with his past . . . and that's about it. There's something of the road trip mentioned in the book's by-line to the plot — quite a lot of driving and classic cars. Some characters are met along the way, mostly oddballs and kooky types, of course. There's a love interest. Rock Section travels back in time every now and again . . . and there you have it.
The late eighties–early nineties crossover world of the "baggy" musical movement and football hooliganism was clumsily described. There was much whimsy and not enough meat on the bone for me to buy into this sub-culture. The Italia '90 World Cup, Hillsborough disaster and a Dutch white supremacist movement are dragged into the mix, but there is an incoherence to all this that never made the plot or world of One Three One ring true. "But the present-day action is set on Sardinia. That must count for something. Everyone loves Sardinia," you might say. Well, from the manner the novel is written, where the action in Rock Section's head is more important than physical descriptions of the island, I never got a sense of Sardinia. Road trip One Three One might be, but Cope is no Kerouak or Steinbeck at bringing a route such as 131 to life.
Finally, I found the characterizations in the novel just slightly better than one-dimensional. Characters are given attributes and they perform actions but how we see them and what they say is all through the filter of Rock Section's narrative. Section is utterly self-centred, onanistic even, and shows little interest in people or their well-being. He may even be a sociopath. Thus there is little time spent describing other people, getting into their heads and underneath their skins and all the characters outside of love interest, Anna, blend into one. Particularly bad is the reported speech. No one character can be differentiated from another based on their speech, except maybe Anna, who speaks in mildly broken English.
Perhaps I'm missing the point here and I just don't "get" Julian Cope's/Rock Section's voice. Perhaps the humour in the book flew above or below my particular radar. I get the impression that the kind of people who see genius in Terry Pratchett will probably be impressed by this novel's ramblings, rantings and ravings. Perhaps as a teenager I would have loved One Three One. Right now, though, my overall verdict is: disappointingly poor.
One Three One has been hyped to the stars in certain sections of the press, especially the likes of The Quietus and The Guardian and I had been very much looking forward to getting stuck into it. As someone who had read and enjoyed Cope's brace of autobiographies (Head-On and Repossessed) and valued his tome on Stone Age monuments (The Megalithic European) to such an extent that I gave it a mention in my own The Grotto, I was all set for a few nights of fresh, scintillating, off-the-wall use of language, wry and kooky observations and a hybridization of two of Cope's acknowledged areas of expertise — rock 'n' roll debauchery and the Megalithic. I am disappointed to write that the relish I experienced upon turning on my Kindle and clicking on One Three One very quickly wore off. Regrettably, the novel failed to live up to both the hype and my own expectations. One Three One is something of a damp squib and very much the least of any of Cope's books that I have read.
For me, the book fell down on many fronts. Style-wise, the druggy loon, first-person narrative voice employed with such success in the autobiographies fell very short of being able to carry an entire novel. After only a few pages, the narrator, Rock Section's, post-punk, drug-casualty verbal ticks began to grate. Enthusiasm or delight was expressed with phrases such as "Come on everyone" or "Oh yeah" and I began to dread the appearance of these at the ends of paragraphs. Do you follow, folks! Yeah! Get with it! The use of language during the passages where Rock Section is transported back in time ten thousand years was also annoying; think sub-Wicker Man mixed with classic Hollywood epic dialogue. There were also some clangers (was the 'flu around in the Stone Age and even if it was would it have been called as such?) and the use of relatively modern names for rivers and cities (the Dee, Paris, Oslo, Aberdeen) added to the irritation I felt while reading these chapters.
The plot is thin and not particularly credible. The fact that Rock Section can slip through portals in Neolithic monuments and travel back in time ten thousand years caused the least problems for me, which gives an idea of how strange the rest of the story is. The plot goes something like this: Rock Section was in a band in the late '80s–early '90s. These guys were mixed up in football hooliganism. They travelled to Sardinia during Italia '90 to follow England and cause a bit of argy-bargy. Bad things went down. Rock Section and his "firm" were kidnapped. A couple of them never made it back home. In the novel's present (2006) Rock Section travels back to Sardinia in order to come to terms with his past . . . and that's about it. There's something of the road trip mentioned in the book's by-line to the plot — quite a lot of driving and classic cars. Some characters are met along the way, mostly oddballs and kooky types, of course. There's a love interest. Rock Section travels back in time every now and again . . . and there you have it.
The late eighties–early nineties crossover world of the "baggy" musical movement and football hooliganism was clumsily described. There was much whimsy and not enough meat on the bone for me to buy into this sub-culture. The Italia '90 World Cup, Hillsborough disaster and a Dutch white supremacist movement are dragged into the mix, but there is an incoherence to all this that never made the plot or world of One Three One ring true. "But the present-day action is set on Sardinia. That must count for something. Everyone loves Sardinia," you might say. Well, from the manner the novel is written, where the action in Rock Section's head is more important than physical descriptions of the island, I never got a sense of Sardinia. Road trip One Three One might be, but Cope is no Kerouak or Steinbeck at bringing a route such as 131 to life.
Finally, I found the characterizations in the novel just slightly better than one-dimensional. Characters are given attributes and they perform actions but how we see them and what they say is all through the filter of Rock Section's narrative. Section is utterly self-centred, onanistic even, and shows little interest in people or their well-being. He may even be a sociopath. Thus there is little time spent describing other people, getting into their heads and underneath their skins and all the characters outside of love interest, Anna, blend into one. Particularly bad is the reported speech. No one character can be differentiated from another based on their speech, except maybe Anna, who speaks in mildly broken English.
Perhaps I'm missing the point here and I just don't "get" Julian Cope's/Rock Section's voice. Perhaps the humour in the book flew above or below my particular radar. I get the impression that the kind of people who see genius in Terry Pratchett will probably be impressed by this novel's ramblings, rantings and ravings. Perhaps as a teenager I would have loved One Three One. Right now, though, my overall verdict is: disappointingly poor.
August 28, 2014
Don't worry if you don't know what's going on for a bit... put your trust in the drude!
August 17, 2017
da fan di julian cope sapevo cosa aspettarmi: un libro folle, scombinato, privo di senso, pieno di buffi riferimenti a musiche di culto, profondamente pagano e drogatissimo. e sono stato perfettamente accontentato, anzi mi son beccato pure improbabili gruppi italiani anni '70, macchine da collezione, portali preistorici sardi e mentalità da ultras del calcio. cercare un senso al libro è quasi inutile, quindi non incazzatevi se non lo trovate, tanto non c'è: l'unica è farsi trasportare nel tempo e nello spazio da cope, e pazienza se a volte il paesaggio diventa confuso, l'importante è il "viaggio", non l'arrivo. oh, da fan son quattro stelle, ma immagino che chi si trovi a leggerlo senza saper nulla del personaggio potrebbe dargliene molte meno, o potrebbe pure tirare il libro fuori dalla finestra.
July 18, 2023
Mmmmmm I really don't know about this one. I can see why many people have marked it down for being pretentious and incomprehensible, but I can also see why a lot of people have marked it high for being brave and infectious.
I quite liked the enthusiasm of the writing, and the narrator (a middle aged rock star on a pilgrimage to Sardinia to revisit a traumatic experience from his past) is likeable and engaging.
But there's a whole bit about a creation myth, and a bit of time travel to 10,000 years ago through ancient stone doorways, which feels lofty and meaningful but can get a bit baffling. I get that Julian Cope is a fan of these things (as evidenced by his other writings and his megalithic guides), but I wish he had coalesced that part of the story a bit more instead of leaving it so cryptic and unformed. He seems to have spent a lot of time drawing nice-looking maps of an ancient world (Europe before the flood) rather than shaping his myth into something comprehensible and actually joining it up properly to the present-day plot.
If you stripped out all that stuff you would be left with a basic story that resembles Iain Banks in many ways: the central character uses his road trip to recall some events from his past which are all tied up with England's games in the 1990 World Cup. He makes some interesting justifications for the football hooliganism which was rife at that time, and the revelations about where the main protagonists are now are quite interesting in their own way. The end actually starts to feel quite emotional and we get a catharsis of sorts.
But it's all buried under so much "rock and roll" prose and clever wordplay. It treads a very fine line between invigorating and cringe-inducing. And I can't decide which side of the line it falls in the end.
Tellingly, it took me nearly two years to read this as I had to abandon it, then I forgot about it, then I forced myself to revisit it and push on through to the end. I'm glad I did. I think. But I don't think I'll be in a hurry to revisit it any time soon.
I quite liked the enthusiasm of the writing, and the narrator (a middle aged rock star on a pilgrimage to Sardinia to revisit a traumatic experience from his past) is likeable and engaging.
But there's a whole bit about a creation myth, and a bit of time travel to 10,000 years ago through ancient stone doorways, which feels lofty and meaningful but can get a bit baffling. I get that Julian Cope is a fan of these things (as evidenced by his other writings and his megalithic guides), but I wish he had coalesced that part of the story a bit more instead of leaving it so cryptic and unformed. He seems to have spent a lot of time drawing nice-looking maps of an ancient world (Europe before the flood) rather than shaping his myth into something comprehensible and actually joining it up properly to the present-day plot.
If you stripped out all that stuff you would be left with a basic story that resembles Iain Banks in many ways: the central character uses his road trip to recall some events from his past which are all tied up with England's games in the 1990 World Cup. He makes some interesting justifications for the football hooliganism which was rife at that time, and the revelations about where the main protagonists are now are quite interesting in their own way. The end actually starts to feel quite emotional and we get a catharsis of sorts.
But it's all buried under so much "rock and roll" prose and clever wordplay. It treads a very fine line between invigorating and cringe-inducing. And I can't decide which side of the line it falls in the end.
Tellingly, it took me nearly two years to read this as I had to abandon it, then I forgot about it, then I forced myself to revisit it and push on through to the end. I'm glad I did. I think. But I don't think I'll be in a hurry to revisit it any time soon.
March 19, 2020
Cross Hunter S. Thompson with soccer hooliganism, and you get _One Three One_, a quirky, un-self-consciously idiosyncratic tale by avante-garde rocker, Julian Cope. The story delves into virtually every cultural reference imaginable at break-neck speed, so much so that the read gets bogged down. No doubt about it, Cope is extremely and facilely literate, just not always winsomely so, as his speed-induced never-ending sentences careen wildly, till the narrative becomes the stream of consciousness of a narrator who's way too conscious for the reader's good. The road-story motif is itself entertaining but terribly buried in miles-long asides and excursa. From that standpoint, it's morbidly fascinating … but only to those with an acquired taste for that sort of thing, which is why I persisted; thus, the 3-star rating. The book rewards persistence but mostly only if that persistence itself is what you enjoy in a read.
June 4, 2018
Occassionally brilliant and funny, but mostly dull, confused and jumbled. I did not manage to individualize and picture the villains (all of whom seemed to have excellent musical taste), and I did not care much for the hero and his friends either. The prehistoric narrative did not mean much to me either, and the middle section is a curio at best. The ending is super rushed and not really believeable, not even in the terms of the book's evidently voluntary weirdness.
August 10, 2018
a good read but. I am not into soccer thugs. I do not take the right drugs. I did not listen to the right music. The ending was nice.
September 11, 2019
I thought that all for it's experimental pretensions this book was shallow and boring.
November 5, 2020
Not without its funny and out-there moments, but predominantly an overly long, vague, druggy mess.
March 24, 2021
More infinite jest than dirk gently, great road book.
May 4, 2025
Divertente a tratti. Confusionario per buona parte del suo svolgimento. Alcune parti mi sono piaciute molto e in altre mi sono perso. Contento comunque di averlo letto
November 5, 2014
"A Time-Shifting Gnostic Hooligan Road Novel" is quite a bold claim for a sub-title, and yet the only non-essential word in that phrase is "A". Julian Cope's debut novel was always going to be, ahem, novel, but this is (in Bobby Gillespie's words) "A total skullfuck of a book".
The plot follows the antics of washed out pop star Rock Section, as he follows his calling to return to Sardinia and find the truth behind what really happened in the fascist cheese factory all those years ago amongst the ultraviolence of Italia '90. The inexplicable Judge Barry Hertzog and Bugs Rabbit may hold the secret, but how are they linked to the events in Asgard 10,000 years ago, and the fate of Old Tupp? And the serenity of Blessed Anna? Even though I've read the book I'm not sure that I quite know the answer myself - it's as though the haze of ephedra, spliff and sugary drinks that laces the pages distorts the reader, and even the helpful (and beautifully illustrated) creation myth that Cope has randomly provided halfway through only hint at what was in the author's mind.
But none of this matters, this is a trip and you're along for the ride - a privileged journey with the arch-drude that is hilarious, wild, mystical and touching in equal measures. Snippets of autobiography (perhaps) the horrors of Hillsborough (certainly) cynicism and wonder (definitely) and a cast of the most absurd and wonderfully named characters and locations that link rave, brit-pop, and megalithic monuments. From the fantasies of the Kit Kat Rappers, Full English Breakfast, Last Tango in Paris and Slag van Blowjob, to a very real analysis of the short comings of Half Man Half Biscuit it is hard to know where the boundaries between fact and fiction lay. That Cope has accompanied this book by releasing tracks by the fictional protagonists Mick Goodby and Forest of Dean (and others) only adds to the haze of confusion that this books leaves you in. Apparently he's writing another book already - I can't wait.
The plot follows the antics of washed out pop star Rock Section, as he follows his calling to return to Sardinia and find the truth behind what really happened in the fascist cheese factory all those years ago amongst the ultraviolence of Italia '90. The inexplicable Judge Barry Hertzog and Bugs Rabbit may hold the secret, but how are they linked to the events in Asgard 10,000 years ago, and the fate of Old Tupp? And the serenity of Blessed Anna? Even though I've read the book I'm not sure that I quite know the answer myself - it's as though the haze of ephedra, spliff and sugary drinks that laces the pages distorts the reader, and even the helpful (and beautifully illustrated) creation myth that Cope has randomly provided halfway through only hint at what was in the author's mind.
But none of this matters, this is a trip and you're along for the ride - a privileged journey with the arch-drude that is hilarious, wild, mystical and touching in equal measures. Snippets of autobiography (perhaps) the horrors of Hillsborough (certainly) cynicism and wonder (definitely) and a cast of the most absurd and wonderfully named characters and locations that link rave, brit-pop, and megalithic monuments. From the fantasies of the Kit Kat Rappers, Full English Breakfast, Last Tango in Paris and Slag van Blowjob, to a very real analysis of the short comings of Half Man Half Biscuit it is hard to know where the boundaries between fact and fiction lay. That Cope has accompanied this book by releasing tracks by the fictional protagonists Mick Goodby and Forest of Dean (and others) only adds to the haze of confusion that this books leaves you in. Apparently he's writing another book already - I can't wait.
July 8, 2014
This book is completely mad, but in a good way - sort of. Most people will enjoy reading it - as long as they can keep up with the drugs, the time travel, the alternative universe, the music scene, the spiritual decapitations, the real murders and the general mayhem accompanying Rock Section on his road trip through Sardinia with Anna.
It is difficult to know what else to tell you. I could try to tell you about the story, but it won't make any sense until you immerse yourself in its sheer lunacy. So I am not going to bother even trying to do that.
I could tell you that D.H. Lawrence's travel book about Sardinia is integral to the plot, but that means you would have to know about the Sardinian doorways, and if you don't it will not help.
I could tell you that the gnosticism happens in an alternative time zone, but that will not help you to unravel the secret. I could say something Delphic. I have just done that.
I could tell you about the maps. They are useful and will help you to keep track of where things are happening if not why. And I could tell you that it ends with a Thelma and Louise moment.
On the other hand I could just tell you to read it.
It is difficult to know what else to tell you. I could try to tell you about the story, but it won't make any sense until you immerse yourself in its sheer lunacy. So I am not going to bother even trying to do that.
I could tell you that D.H. Lawrence's travel book about Sardinia is integral to the plot, but that means you would have to know about the Sardinian doorways, and if you don't it will not help.
I could tell you that the gnosticism happens in an alternative time zone, but that will not help you to unravel the secret. I could say something Delphic. I have just done that.
I could tell you about the maps. They are useful and will help you to keep track of where things are happening if not why. And I could tell you that it ends with a Thelma and Louise moment.
On the other hand I could just tell you to read it.
February 4, 2021
In tribute to finding an original copy of Julian Cope’s Peggy Suicide double LP in a London used record shop which had seemed like an instance of magic, I grabbed Cope’s “total skullfuck” of a first novel from a stack of books left for the taking on a neighbor’s lawn. One Three One delivers some of the satisfaction you might lift from a Kurt Vonnegut novel minus the ease of comprehension and economical delivery. One Three One is like a brunch where you’re half wasted and your wasted friend has intimated she has scandalous dish to tell. Talking with her mouth full of egg, she veers off into reconstructing a dream that attacked her last night. A great dream obviously as far as it goes for her. She won’t come back from the dream. You’re all like, C’mon, give me the dish. You’ve lost your appetite at all your friend’s chewed egg and dream tedium and you quit brunch before it ends. I cannot recommend this book. Enough.
May 26, 2023
Sarò sempre grato ai miei amici per avermi regalato, per il compleanno di qualche anno fa, "Sulla strada" di Kerouac. Allo stesso modo sentir parlare del medesimo libro da mio padre, probabilmente uno dei suoi preferiti di sempre.
Il motivo? Mi hanno aiutato a comprendere "Uno tre uno" al meglio, poter affrontare questo diario di viaggio on the Road con la giusta prospettiva:
Farcito di salti temporali che vanno da Italia '90 e la scena musicale inglese di fine anni '80 (con tappa nei regni del nord di circa 10000 anni fa).
E le menzioni d'onore ai Road movie? Leggere di "Punto Zero" (Road movie del 1971 che cerco da letteralmente una vita) o, in orbita musicale, citare il movimento Straight Edge - fondato da Ian MacKaye, membro del gruppo hardcore punk Minor Threat- , i mondiali ambientati nel '90 nella nazione a forma di stivale hanno reso quello che sembra a prima vista un "mattone" molto scorrevole.
⭐⭐⭐⭐ Su 5
October 24, 2025
One of the most brilliant, serious, funny, life-crammed novels any reader is likely to lay their mitts on. -- Toby Litt ― The Guardian
Any anxieties about the literal sense of 131 are swept asunder by Cope's audacious prose style, which carries the reader along on a wave of unrelenting energy. I read it in one sitting. -- Stewart Lee ― The Quietus
So many novelists try to get into rock stars' heads. You won't know how badly they fail til you read this. Reading Cope is like running with Shakespeare at a rave. ― DBC Pierre
A total skullf*** of a book, a hooligan saga of rave damaged psychic shipwrecks and mythic time travel. ― Bobby Gillespie
The debut novel from the great cosmic intellect that is Julian Cope is as unique and fearless as the man himself. ― Nicky Wire
The myths and legends of Rock, rock and rocks collide on a freak-strewn highway leaving the reader feeling like a back-seat passenger suffering psychic whiplash. ― Andrew Weatherall
Any anxieties about the literal sense of 131 are swept asunder by Cope's audacious prose style, which carries the reader along on a wave of unrelenting energy. I read it in one sitting. -- Stewart Lee ― The Quietus
So many novelists try to get into rock stars' heads. You won't know how badly they fail til you read this. Reading Cope is like running with Shakespeare at a rave. ― DBC Pierre
A total skullf*** of a book, a hooligan saga of rave damaged psychic shipwrecks and mythic time travel. ― Bobby Gillespie
The debut novel from the great cosmic intellect that is Julian Cope is as unique and fearless as the man himself. ― Nicky Wire
The myths and legends of Rock, rock and rocks collide on a freak-strewn highway leaving the reader feeling like a back-seat passenger suffering psychic whiplash. ― Andrew Weatherall
October 5, 2014
I wouldn't go so far as to call this a magnificent failure, but this is kind of in the same class as Cope's album Rome wasn't built in a day: you can admire the ideas but man, what a racket.
This has some excellent parts, I especially liked the Decoffinated Cafe scenes for example, but just as the road trip revenge narrative is getting interesting again Cope insists on chucking us headfirst 10000 years back into our hero's previous incarnation as the princely son of Old Tupp, Bjond. Hence he gets to insert some lengthy rants about paganism and sacred landscapes... you know, the bits of The Modern Antiquarian that you skip through....
Back in the present day, correction, back in 2006, he can't resist a few final puns (and the text is rife with them) before the climactic scene unfolds. I'm glad I stayed for the whole ride but there were some potholes along the way.
This has some excellent parts, I especially liked the Decoffinated Cafe scenes for example, but just as the road trip revenge narrative is getting interesting again Cope insists on chucking us headfirst 10000 years back into our hero's previous incarnation as the princely son of Old Tupp, Bjond. Hence he gets to insert some lengthy rants about paganism and sacred landscapes... you know, the bits of The Modern Antiquarian that you skip through....
Back in the present day, correction, back in 2006, he can't resist a few final puns (and the text is rife with them) before the climactic scene unfolds. I'm glad I stayed for the whole ride but there were some potholes along the way.
November 13, 2015
It took me seven months to read this book.
Some of the writing--with it's rhythm, internal rhyming, & cosmic wonder--was a joy to read aloud.
I enjoyed the musicologist in-jokes & the gonzo hilarity of some passages (one of the funniest opening chapters I've read). I appreciate the zany amalgamation of road novel, revenge story, mystic time travel, archaeo/anthropological musings, & more. But, for me, the parts about football hooliganism & the musical activities of various characters were torture. There were so many characters, almost all of whom had nicknames, that it was difficult to distinguish but a few. And I'm not sure the various layers came together as successfully as I'd hoped they would by the end. But, like a hastily packed car on a long trip, I have felt the load settling in the days since finishing it. Connections are still forming.
Some of the writing--with it's rhythm, internal rhyming, & cosmic wonder--was a joy to read aloud.
I enjoyed the musicologist in-jokes & the gonzo hilarity of some passages (one of the funniest opening chapters I've read). I appreciate the zany amalgamation of road novel, revenge story, mystic time travel, archaeo/anthropological musings, & more. But, for me, the parts about football hooliganism & the musical activities of various characters were torture. There were so many characters, almost all of whom had nicknames, that it was difficult to distinguish but a few. And I'm not sure the various layers came together as successfully as I'd hoped they would by the end. But, like a hastily packed car on a long trip, I have felt the load settling in the days since finishing it. Connections are still forming.
July 14, 2014
It would be difficult for me to recommend this book to a general readership. When you have LaMonte Young similes in your novel, well, it goes to show that being a music geek helps to get some of the humor presented herein.
Generally, I would say this book's main fault is also its strength: sheer frivolity. It prances about, waves its genitals around and generally makes a nuisance of itself to comic effect, but it has no real substance (and don't let that bit about gnosticism fool you). And that's fine, in principle, but it makes the fact that there is a plot and this plot features myriad Fuck-You visions rather tiresome. But hey, at best, this book can be a raucous good time.
Generally, I would say this book's main fault is also its strength: sheer frivolity. It prances about, waves its genitals around and generally makes a nuisance of itself to comic effect, but it has no real substance (and don't let that bit about gnosticism fool you). And that's fine, in principle, but it makes the fact that there is a plot and this plot features myriad Fuck-You visions rather tiresome. But hey, at best, this book can be a raucous good time.
June 29, 2014
A bruising, shattering, but ultimately positive ride - from the highs of time travelling through ancient doorways and the utter transformative nature of music, to the lows of football tragedy, scatological disaster and death, the (anti)hero Rock Station is on a trip up and down memory lane searching for truth, vengeance and justice.
Occasionally mystifying and difficult, but so passionately written it pays to travel with it to the end of the journey, the flashes of humour and self awareness will get you through, worth the effort.
Occasionally mystifying and difficult, but so passionately written it pays to travel with it to the end of the journey, the flashes of humour and self awareness will get you through, worth the effort.
August 22, 2014
Alas, this novel by my musical hero did not click with me. I adore Julian's autobiographies, antiquarian tomes, and rock writings, but this was simply too much. Perhaps I should have limited myself to one or two chapters a day over a period of several months. Ingested over just a couple of days, the book failed to ignite my interest. It is an impressive book with lofty aspirations, and I marvel at his turns of phrase, character names, and more, but I just didn't really care about any of the characters themselves or their actions. Oh well, for every Jehovahkill you have a Black Sheep.
March 27, 2015
To give ONE THREE ONE a star rating seems too breadheaded and anti-Cope in a way - but *not to* feels churlish considering you're starring up the very interior of the Arch Drude's brainpan when reviewing this book. So a complex rubric is deployed:
Calling the protagonist Rock Section +1 star.
That opening salvo, leather kecks and all +1 star.
For Psychedelic Odin, surely Thee Official Soundtrack for this tome +1 star.
For naming a supporting character Cowtown Unslutter +1 star.
For being Julian Bloody Cope +1 star.
One (three one) of a kind.
Calling the protagonist Rock Section +1 star.
That opening salvo, leather kecks and all +1 star.
For Psychedelic Odin, surely Thee Official Soundtrack for this tome +1 star.
For naming a supporting character Cowtown Unslutter +1 star.
For being Julian Bloody Cope +1 star.
One (three one) of a kind.
May 24, 2019
I've been a fan of Cope for many years now but completing this proved something of an arduous task. Sure there were the odd amusing bits here and there and some of the references were fun, but I expected so much more and was left thinking 'so what' when I finally completed it. I loved his autobiographies - they were so entertaining. I kinda came to conclude that when it came to writing his real life was more interesting than his imagination!
January 9, 2022
No spoilers here! it's all worth the read...you c daer dluotwice to really catch the witty world they're travelling through, there's musicians, bands, music...it's a trip and Julian Cope has taken them all
October 4, 2015
Tis a chewy read, this one. I enjoyed it simply because it was an experience, a journey of sorts, and because it had a strange lopsided charm. I enjoyed Cope's use of language. I think it would have been impossible for anyone else to have written this book, and this dogged personal truth and identity make it stand out.
November 20, 2015
I really wanted to like this, I loved Mr Cope's Head On and Repossessed.
But it didn't really grab me. Great prose, some wonderful moments, but as a whole it left me wanting something different.
I will certainly read more of his work, but doubt I'll return to this one.
Sorry Julian, but I'll stick with you!
But it didn't really grab me. Great prose, some wonderful moments, but as a whole it left me wanting something different.
I will certainly read more of his work, but doubt I'll return to this one.
Sorry Julian, but I'll stick with you!
December 20, 2015
Sorry Julian, I really tried to get inside your head and understand what the hell this was all about. I gave up after a 2 months's long struggle. Maybe you need to be high on something to make sense of it.
December 14, 2014
I love this book!It's a road trip like no other!I can't explain the story,just expect time travel,Italia '90,hooliganism and rock n roll!!Funny,smart,imaginative!You may lose your head for a bit,but it's worth it!!
November 26, 2014
I hate hating this; it feels like treason (no pun intended). I adore Julian Cope, and he's written some of my favourite books. But I found this utterly unbearable - like being cornered in the pub and ranted at by an incoherent drunk.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 47 reviews