The title is terrible. Let me make that clear from the start. The title is bad enough to make people hesitate when selecting this book. It speaks of terrible pop songs by Photoshopped young singers, or perhaps a new reality show on MTV. The title does not inspire an awful lot of confidence.
Which is really a pity, because the book itself is quite good. The story of a young rock photographer and her tumultuous love affair with a talented guitarist is not, on the surface, especially original. And indeed, the basic plot lends itself to dozens of movies and books and TV shows. But author Roccie Hill has taken a cliche and added subtle layers, unexpected characters, and plot twists both surprising and authentic.
The real marvel here is the main character, Rosie. Carefully sidestepping all the traits that make first person narrative infuriating, Rosie is an intriguing, quietly intense young woman. Her ability to relate everything to her photography, to the art that makes her feel alive, results in some of the best passages in the book. The visuals are remarkable, making even an outsider feel intimately connected to the landscape and environment of California.
The supporting cast is equally well-drawn, particularly Rosie's friend Peter, an illegal immigrant, filmmaker, and the voice of reason throughout most of the events. Another favorite character is Alex, the lawyer with the surfer-style hair whose predictions would, in a lesser novel, come true.
The only character that failed, on a small level, is David, Rosie's lover, the talented Jimmy Page-like guitarist who indulges in all the vices of his profession. David is decently written, and to Hill's credit she never tries to analyze the love between her two main characters. But David's fall from grace is somewhat less compelling than it should be. And music - which, for him, should be like photography for Rosie - never comes into play on a major level. He could be a painter or an actor. As a fan of music from that time, I would have appreciated a musician truly in love with his work, rather than just a talented guitarist wrestling between fame and art.
Still, this is a minor complaint in a beautiful, fascinating story of love and photography, and the ties that bind us through tragedy and deceit. Hill has crafted a lovely first novel that bodes well for her future career. With authentic characters, a wonderful sense of place, a plot that keeps you guessing, and a narrator with an eye for color and a weakness for musicians, Three Minutes On Love is a surprisingly engaging read. An excellent start to what will hopefully be an impressive career. I will look forward to Hill's next offering.
But the title is awful. It makes me sad. The book deserves a lot better.
Which is really a pity, because the book itself is quite good. The story of a young rock photographer and her tumultuous love affair with a talented guitarist is not, on the surface, especially original. And indeed, the basic plot lends itself to dozens of movies and books and TV shows. But author Roccie Hill has taken a cliche and added subtle layers, unexpected characters, and plot twists both surprising and authentic.
The real marvel here is the main character, Rosie. Carefully sidestepping all the traits that make first person narrative infuriating, Rosie is an intriguing, quietly intense young woman. Her ability to relate everything to her photography, to the art that makes her feel alive, results in some of the best passages in the book. The visuals are remarkable, making even an outsider feel intimately connected to the landscape and environment of California.
The supporting cast is equally well-drawn, particularly Rosie's friend Peter, an illegal immigrant, filmmaker, and the voice of reason throughout most of the events. Another favorite character is Alex, the lawyer with the surfer-style hair whose predictions would, in a lesser novel, come true.
The only character that failed, on a small level, is David, Rosie's lover, the talented Jimmy Page-like guitarist who indulges in all the vices of his profession. David is decently written, and to Hill's credit she never tries to analyze the love between her two main characters. But David's fall from grace is somewhat less compelling than it should be. And music - which, for him, should be like photography for Rosie - never comes into play on a major level. He could be a painter or an actor. As a fan of music from that time, I would have appreciated a musician truly in love with his work, rather than just a talented guitarist wrestling between fame and art.
Still, this is a minor complaint in a beautiful, fascinating story of love and photography, and the ties that bind us through tragedy and deceit. Hill has crafted a lovely first novel that bodes well for her future career. With authentic characters, a wonderful sense of place, a plot that keeps you guessing, and a narrator with an eye for color and a weakness for musicians, Three Minutes On Love is a surprisingly engaging read. An excellent start to what will hopefully be an impressive career. I will look forward to Hill's next offering.
But the title is awful. It makes me sad. The book deserves a lot better.
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