This tale of two boys from up north coming to London to live the rockstar dream is oddly affecting. Mickie James and his unnamed partner in music and life know enough to see that their "Leonard Cohen-inspired 'Suicide Would Be the Sensible Choice if it Didn't Involve So Much Pain' would never make it to the top of the charts", but are still surprised to find themselves in a room at the top of St Pancras station for which they have to buy their own rudimentary toilet. From there they embark on a series of adventures which, although never exactly living up to the rock'n'roll lifestyle they had envisaged, nevertheless takes them to Japan, Ho Chi Minh City, and even Iraq. The reader willingly surrenders to the mad tour and a cast of characters ranging from the magician Harlan Harlan to a sleazy European porn magnate. The novel, spun out of short stories written by Leicester police employee Gummerson, manages to avoid both cliché and sentimentality before coming to the conclusion that although pop music is life, fame isn't everything.

 

 

Me and Mickie James - Time Out

 

Traditionally, the pop charts have not been home to many hunchbacks. In fact, with the exception of Quasimodo’s experimental ‘bell’ period, the affliction of permanently arched posture has never really made any impact on musical history, popular or otherwise.

 

Which explains why Down By Law – the fame-courting duo at the centre of Drew Gummerson’s second novel – are such an unusual band. Comprised of ‘Me’ our ‘Withnail and I’-esque nameless narrator) and ‘Mickie James’ (his boyfriend and hunchbacked keyboarding cohort), the ‘Law’ have killer tunes, catchy hooks and big, bullishly optimistic dreams – and they’re moving to London in the hope of using the first two to realise the third.

 

The pair are soon being whisked inexplicably round the globe to entertain Danish theme parks and Japanese cruise ships, but their ultimate success remains hampered throughout by Mickie James’s discomfort and unhappiness with his condition. Only after the group realise that, with life, ‘it’s the doing of it that’s the experience, not the ending’, does Mickie truly seem to accept himself for who he is.

 

Sound more like a CBBC special than serious literature? Well, in some ways (the inclusion of a gay hunchback not being one of them), it is – and unashamedly so. ‘Me and Mickie James’ unfolds in a flurry of cartoonish adventures, each more extravagant, unlikely and enjoyable than the last. However, while the structure of the book is a little wide eyed and simplistic, much of the content is extraordinarily dark. Reluctant pornographic cameos, desperate pre-op transsexuals, and the constant struggle to cope with disability are just a few of the bleaker plot points with which Gummerson punctures his novel’s Technicolor backdrop. Furthermore, the
endearingly chirpy naivety which he assigns his narrator ensures that when the gloomy moments arrive,they are particularly potent.

 

Much like the pop that Down By Law peddle, ‘Me and Mickie James’ may make you think occasionally, but its real strength lies in keeping you entertained.

 

 

 

 

 

With the premise that a dream should never be surrendered, it's a warm and charming story of the un-named narrator and his hunchback boyfriend, Mickie James. Together they comprise the pop duo, Down By Law, who, with song titles like 'Mermaids Are For Life' and 'Hunchback Christmas', are still awaiting their big break whilst they flit between dead end jobs including a stage appearance as a typecast Quasimodo and a reluctant cameo in porn.

 

But it's during a stint working in a cheese shop for eternal pessimist, Con, that a chance encounter introduces them to one-time-pop-star turned musical enigma, Ivan Norris-Ayres.

 

Their adventure soon begins and our two central characters find themselves swinging not only from one bizarre scenario to the next, but also from continent to continent until, in America, it finally looks as if they may have made it.

 

What makes Me and Mickie James such a pleasure to read is the immediacy of the writing. It's an entertaining story that moves along at a great pace and introduces a cast of kooky, original characters such as the magician Harlan Harlan and his glamorous assistant, Penelope: a couple with a past that they thought they were rid of, but soon catches up with them in the form of crazy-in-love giant, Gus.

 

While there are a range of intriguing supporting characters, it is the lead protagonists who make the story and the two central characters are a fantastically bizarre couple between whom dialogue is snappy and believable and for whom readers will surely empathise and rally behind.

Though Gummerson has written Mickie James as a character with a hunchback, this affliction comes up very rarely throughout the novel. When it does, it is not in order to raise issues of physical abnormality, but rather to represent the baggage we all see as holding us back from achieving our full potential and realising our dreams.

 

Me and Mickie James is a classic British underdog story with a difference; the difference being that the underdog is a gay couple, one of whom is a hunchback and the other, by his own admission, actually isn't very talented at all.

 

In this respect, Gummerson has written a novel that's a fresh and welcome take on gay fiction and one that, like Down By Law's song titles and lyrics, won't be forgotten in a hurry.

 

 

 

 

DREW Gummerson's Me and Mickie James is a novel about a gay pop duo, one of whom has a hunched back, and their quest for pop stardom.

Together, James and the unnamed narrator are Down By Law, a synth-pop duo named after a Tom Waits film.

They travel to London and end up renting a dingy room at the top of St Pancras station. From there, they head for Southend, Denmark, Iraq and Japan in an attempt to reach the big time.

At one point, the duo chase a giant up a rollercoaster to get a ruby that he's stolen from a magician's assistant who'd borrowed it from the Chinese imperial family.

Eventually, they are on the verge of making it big in Japan with a novelty hit called Wacky Iraqi, when a Japanese tabloid newspaper finds out what they had to do to raise the money to get to Japan in the first place.

Stranded in Japan with no money for the airfare home, they ultimately end up in the Vietnamese jungle doing a gig for disabled children to highlight the effects of Agent Orange.

Me and Mickie James is Gummerson's second novel, but his first from a major publisher. It's certainly one of the more unusual fictional takes on the struggle to make it in the music industry, but also one of the funniest.

While the main characters' homosexuality is integral to the story, as is the discovery of an exciting new use for Chinese food, both this and James's disability are included as part of a witty and entertaining story rather than as an earnest political statement.

 

 

 

 

 

An aspiring pop duo, Down by Law, come to London to be famous - It may sound like another sentimental lad’s band story.   But the unnamed ‘Me’ and his hunchback boyfriend Mickie James take us at a fast pace to the unexpected, from the top of St. Pancras station via Copenhagen to Iraq, from working in a cheese shop to appearing as a kawaii idol in a Tokyo TV show,  and writing a song inspired by Leonard Cohen called ‘Suicide Would Be the Sensible Choice If It Didn’t Involve So Much Pain’. It’s constantly slap-stick silly, yet some touching moments might surprise you.  Not a book to help you find a way into the music industry, but it may tell you a thing or two about the fun of being off beat.

 

 

 

 

Big, bold lettering on the cover of Drew Gummerson’s novel announces that Me and Mickie James is about Down By Law, “a pop duo like no other”. Different fonts, formatting and crude illustrations plastered over the front and back of the book go on to introduce the reader to the basic story – Mickie James has a hunchback, they live in a room at the top of St. Pancras Station and their plan to make it big takes them on a journey through European theme parks, Iraq and the outskirts of Ho Chi Minh City. Yes, all this information is provided in the cover art, and it is a nice touch considering that Me and Mickie James is very much about the visuals Gummerson can create with words.

For a book about sound and music, Me and Mickie James evokes rich, surreal visuals where it seems that nothing is still and everything is alive with colour – strong images include pink hats, blue hair, enormous breasted women, the sight of Mickie James’s hunchback in the falling snow, whooshing roller coasters, vast bleached-white land, sparkling jewellery and a black sea. Images such as a ruby flying up into the air and coming down “in an arc against a background of stars, red against the black, black behind the red”, emphasise the novel’s association with visual forms of art. This is a book that engages the reader through sight, sound and thought, making it a gorgeous and compelling read.

Gummerson’s vivid writing style serves the book well when it comes to one of its major themes. Me and Mickie James concerns itself with the notion of aesthetic and artifice in our media-saturated culture – in short, the glossy surface of manufactured pop: “It’s all about surface these days”, observes Mickie James. “What chance have we got when I look the way I do?” From their encounter with a magician, to the set of the porn film the narrator stars in – in which the room is set up to look like a train carriage – nothing is how it appears on the surface. The book then goes on to champion the hope that, beyond the smoke-and-mirrors, there is still something very real and very powerful about music.

Despite Mickie James’s doubts and the rocky road the pair travel in their quest for superstardom, their music has the fantastic ability to traverse and transcend cultures, politics, sexual orientation, physical appearance and age. Iraqi children hand-jiving to one of Down by Law’s flamenco-inspired tracks is particularly poignant and imaginative. It is also worth noting the fact that the pair's sexuality is never an issue to their audiences or friends.

However, their relationship is nevertheless an important part of Me and Mickie James. While the momentous visuals give the impression that nothing stands still – they live above St. Pancras Station, after all, which is by definition a place of transit – what is unwavering is the devotion between the two men, and their music is the cohesive ingredient: “I believed that Mickie James and me loved each other. Somehow we belonged together and that made our music special”.

Such a sentiment reminded of the classic Beatles track with the universal message, ‘All You Need is Love’. Indeed, references to the Fab Four are peppered throughout the book, including the duo’s Iraqi guide Ishtar telling them, “I think you are better than the Beatles”.

At the beating heart of the book, then, is the question of what really makes the world go round: music, love, a love of music and music about love. Much like the ruby that sparkles against the night sky so vividly, Gummerson has written a gem of a novel.

 

 

 

First of all I should declare an interest. I am thanked in the back of the book – as is ABCtales – for our assistance in the creation of ‘Me and Mickie James’. It makes no odds. If I thought it was a poor book, I would say so. Happily I won’t.

When Drew first wrote this story on the site it was a snapshot of a pop group which consisted of the narrator and his hunchbacked friend, Mickie James. They came to London seeking fame and fortune and had lots of sex amongst other adventures.

In the final edit that now appears in fine Jonathan Cape paperback, price £11.99, the narrator and Mickie James still come to London – but they don’t seem to have so much sex. That is a bit of a relief. Or not. As the case may be.

Me and Mickie James is first and foremost very funny. It’s original, witty and sharp. Written in short sentences, it takes you through the extraordinary tale of the pop duo, Down by Law. They live in a disused room at the top of St Pancras station in London. They get signed up by a porn baron with a pink hat. They get gigs that don’t exist. They work at Copenhagen’s Tivoli Gardens and go down a storm. They get a ruby and meet Gus, the giant who clambers over the roller coaster at night to check for flaws in the track. They go to Iraq and Japan and Vietnam and each time all is not as it seems. They suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and misfortune – and then, well, that would be telling.

What I find extraordinary about this book is just how much I like the narrator and Mickie James. We actually find out little about them but they have such a way with them that the reader very soon is so absorbed in their world and how they think and so genuinely cares about the outcome.

There’s little pause for breath as the adventure unfolds. The action moves swiftly along but Mickie James still worries about his hunchback and the narrator still seeks fame and fortune for their unique blend of pop music.

I cannot urge you sufficiently to buy this book. It will make you laugh, gasp in shock and maybe, if you are in that sort of mood, cry. It’s intensely human and completely accessible. I am proud that ABCtales gave birth to such a fabulous tale.

 

 

There isn't an iota of plausibility to this inventively offbeat

British novel about a gay musician, his much-more talented hunchback

boyfriend, and their wacky adventures on the way to fame – or maybe

not – as the power-pop duo Down by Law. And that's its greatest charm.

The two musical hopefuls almost make it in London, where hunchback

Mickie appears as Quasimodo in a low-rent stage show, and the unnamed narrator films a cosmically unfortunate porn cameo, work taken so they can afford to eat. They almost make it in Iraq, where they're caught up in the search for weapons of mass destruction. They almost make it in Japan – until the porn tape surfaces, alienating the parents of their prepubescent female fans.  And they almost make it in Vietnam, after penning a protest song about the wartime use of Agent Orange.

The pace is frenzied, but Gummerson anchors this charmingly quirky

novel with exuberant storytelling and effervescent dialogue – and with

his characters' faith that true queer love survives all travails.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Renting out a room can be hell, especially when you're used to living on your own. There's something very threatening about letting a lodger into your private space, never quite knowing if they are who they say they are. What if they turn out to be a serial killer? Or worse, straight? Such a dilemma faces Honza Drobrolowski, a freelance writer whose commissions aren't enough to pay off his mounting credit card bills. Reluctantly he decides to let out his small spare room. After rejecting a dippy hippy and a fellow gay man called David (who, in a brief but graphic sex scene, it becomes clear is of rather Goliath proportions), Honza eventually settles on a skeletally thin haulier called Andy. Unlike the art-house film loving Honza, Andy has simple tastes: he slobs on the sofa in front of soap operas and football, resting a can of beer between his legs and moving occasionally to fart the Match of the Day theme tune. Bizarrely, Honza finds himself liking Andy more and more, probably because he's like a grown-up version of the landlord's four-year-old nephew Nicholas, who visits every weekend while his prostitute mother is turning tricks. Nicholas and Andy get on like a house on fire, and Honza finds himself settling into an unexpected life of domesticity, despite having to explain to all and sundry that Andy is just 'the lodger', and not 'the LODGER lodger'. This life of bliss starts to crack when Andy returns from a drunken night out with his "mates", and confesses to Honza that he's killed a man. From that point on, one expects the novel to turn into a murder mystery, or one in which the lodger turns out to be exactly the sort of blood-crazed axe man that Honza feared when he first let out the room. It doesn't. Instead, we continue following these two amiable people getting on with their lives, with the mystery of Andy's alcohol-induced half-confession playing only slightly on Andy's mind. It's a brave decision on the part of the author, but a very successful one. We all imagine that our own lives could be more thrilling than they actually are, but to be able to replicate that in a novel without the reader feeling cheated is a rare feat. The thrill, once Andy reveals the true nature of his secret and he and Honza set out to right the wrong, lies not in 'whodunit' style mystery, but the tensions of whether these two likeable characters will be able to emerge with their friendship intact. The subplot about Honza's sister running off to London with her son in tow is deftly handled, and the heartbreak Honza feels at the thought of losing access to Nicholas is all too palpable. The Lodger is Drew Gummerson's first novel, and an astounding, deservedly confident one it is too. Combining moments of high class wry comedy with well-observed sideswipes at the nature of being gay in Britain today, it deserves to be on everybody's bookshelf.