I did love The Ruperts a lot. I loved them more than vanilla ice cream in summer, more than seeing a new review of one of my fanfics, more than discovering a good ’80s movie I’d never seen before. Just because I was a Ruperts fangirl does not mean I was crazy. [p. 5]
The nameless narrator (who uses a number of aliases from her favourite 80s movies) is staying, with her three best friends, at the Rondack, an upmarket New York hotel. The Rondack also happens to be hosting the Ruperts, a boy band comprising four young Brits (all named Rupert) who met, and were made into a group, on a UK talent show. The girls (Erin, Apple, Isabel and our narrator) are all 15, and are determined to meet their idols. But we can tell from the novel's opening -- they have one of the Ruperts tied to a chair in their room -- that it's all going to go horribly wrong. Over the course of one sleepless night, friendships unravel, manifestos are stated, secrets are revealed, hosiery is used for nefarious purposes, and several people are arrested.
Kill the Buy Band is claustrophobic, giddy, and has the frantic feeling of a group of friends inciting one another to extreme behaviour. It features a lot of familiar fandom elements: crowds of screaming teenagers, rumours of band-members' homosexuality, hooking up with band members, writing real person fanfic, queuing for days just to catch a glimpse, speculating about the hidden meanings of songs, analysing every second of every TV appearance... There's definitely a dark side to all four of the girls. One thinks she's going crazy. One's had an unpleasant encounter with a Rupert. One has severe self-image issues. One has a criminal past, or possibly present. And they all conspire to cover up a major crime.
How much can we blame the author for the problematic elements of a first-person narrative? Sometimes the narrator is just an unpleasant person, woth unpleasant views: and sometimes the narrator is fifteen years old, with self-confessed mental health issues and a distinct lack of maturity. (I forgive her for juxtaposing fanfiction and 'real' creativity, even though I think she is wrong.) Yet I did find the fatphobic language uncomfortable, especially as the narrator otherwise seems to accept her friend as she is. And then uses the word 'blubbery'... There are some other issues with the novel, though I think the narrator's reactions to them are more honest. She's uneasy about the consent issues involved in accidentally kidnapping, and deliberately kissing / touching / groping, their captive; she's the voice of reason, urging the others to do the right thing, when disaster strikes; she's determined to tell the truth, even though she won't be believed.
Kill the Boy Band is a fast-paced and darkly humorous novel about friendship as much as fandom, about truth and lies, about appearances and personas and the stories people tell about themselves and the people around them. I liked it, though felt it faltered at the end: no real sense of closure, or justice, or even credible consequences. But I look forward to more of Moldavsky's fiction.
'... we even have an endorsement deal with cat food ... Do you want your cat to eat like a normal cat, or do you want him to eat like a Rupert?’ I couldn’t help but snort at his funny, infomercial-guy voice while simultaneously thinking very seriously of getting a cat. [p. 170]
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