The Lightning Bottles is the latest from Marissa Stapley, and her first release since her New York Times bestselling Lucky, which was a Reese's Pick. It's a spellbinding story of rock ’n’ roll and star-crossed love—about grunge-era musician Jane Pyre’s journey to find out what really happened to her husband and partner in music, who abruptly disappeared years earlier.
In this list, Stapley shares some of her favourite other books inspired by music.
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Stories I Might Regret Telling You, by Martha Wainwright
I devoured this book while doing research for The Lightning Bottles—and it was probably the most fun I’ve ever had “working”. This memoir has it all: fly-on-the-wall accounts of growing up as musical royalty, deep and sometimes gut-wrenching explorations of being a woman—and a mother—who is also an artist, titillating name drops, heartbreaking truths about sisterhood, motherhood, daughterhood, marriage and life. It’s also candid and very, very funny, somehow making the fact that her own father, the fabled Loudon Wainwright III, wrote a song about her that contains the lines "Every day you’re in my face/how can I get rid of you?" as strangely hilarious as it is impossibly sad. But then, that might be because she gets the last word, countering his song with one called "Bloody Motherfucking Asshole" (it’s actually quite catchy, and very good to sing along to at high volume when someone has wronged you), effectively dropping the mic. This musical memoir is a gift.
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Occasionally Petty, by Michelle Lietz
This is an alchemic collection written by a poet who grew up listening to the songs of Tom Petty, and wrote Occasionally Petty to grieve his passing. The strange sense of familiarity (for those who also know the work of Tom Petty, and most people do) just adds to the magic. I loved finding this book as I was writing one about the staggering price of fame and the uniquely momentous relationship a fan has with an icon—often a person they have never met, and will never truly know. Lietz has created something special out of the confusion of mourning a mythical figure who exists only in your mind (and your earphones).
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All My Puny Sorrows, by Miriam Toews
I remember finishing this novel as I flew home from a trip overseas, and sobbing so loudly the flight attendant came rushing over to see if I was in medical distress. This is not exactly a musical book; it’s really a book about two sisters, one who desperately wants to die, the other who does not want her to with equal desperation, and is a sort of retelling of the events leading to the suicide of Toews’ own sister. (You can see why I sobbed.) But it’s set against the backdrop of a successful career as a concert pianist, and, for me, poignantly and masterfully landed an important point about talent and fame—which is that even though both are seen as the artists’ holy grail, neither can bring happiness or peace. In fact, they often bring the opposite. If you haven’t read this yet, do—but perhaps read the final passages in a private place with a box of tissues on hand.
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Every Little Piece of Me, by Amy Jones
I love novels about music and fame almost as much as I love family dramas, and this one is both. It’s about Meg, the delightfully swaggering lead singer of a Halifax rock band struggling to break; and Ava, a young woman who has grown up in the public eye on account of her family being the stars of a long-running reality show. I adored the way Jones deftly brought these two women together to tell a story about friendship, fame, family, the cost of stardom and the strangeness of fandom. It’s also a startling look at what being a woman in the spotlight entails. It’s not pretty, and makes me feel more committed than ever not simply to discussing the way fallen famous men get redemption arcs while their female counterparts get thrown in dumpster fires, but interrogating why this is and putting a stop to it forever.
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Song of the Sparrow, by Tara MacLean
This memoir by Canadian singer-songwriter Tara MacLean is jaw-droppingly brave and stupendously gorgeous. I feel lucky that through my early read of it and the resulting endorsement I offered, I was able to get to know MacLean, and discuss the heart of writing songs with her as I created my musical characters. MacLean has toured with Dido and Lilith Fair, and played with some of the most iconic names in Canadian music—but she also experienced abuse and poverty as a child. The fact that she survived and thrived is a testament to her strength. I’m sure this book has acted as a beacon for many. It’s a memoir about music saving a life but it’s not just for industry fans: it’s also a reminder that life, despite its hardship and despair, is beautiful.
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Learn more about The Lightning Bottles:
He was the troubled face of rock ’n’ roll…until he suddenly disappeared without a trace.
Jane Pyre was once half of the famous rock n’ roll duo, the Lightning Bottles. Years later, she’s perhaps the most hated—and least understood—woman in music. She was never as popular with fans as her bandmate (and soulmate), Elijah Hart—even if Jane was the one who wrote the songs that catapulted the Lightning Bottles to instant, dizzying fame, first in the Seattle grunge scene, then around the world.
But ever since Elijah disappeared five years earlier and the band’s meteoric rise to fame came crashing down, the public hatred of Jane has taken on new levels, and all she wants to do is retreat. What she doesn’t anticipate is the bombshell that awaits her at her new home in the German countryside: the sullen teenaged girl next door—a Lightning Bottles superfan—who claims to have proof that not only is Elijah still alive, he’s also been leaving secret messages for Jane. And they need to find them right away.
A cross-continent road trip about two misunderstood outsiders brought together by their shared love of music, The Lightning Bottles is both a love letter to the 90s and a searing portrait of the cost of fame.