DURANALYSIS: A Review

Here’s one of the best things about having written and published Friends of Mine: I’ve met a lot of cool people.
 
Some I have yet to meet in person, but that’s just a formality. I know them. They’re my friends.
 
I confess I don’t remember how or when I first heard about Morgan Richter. Her Duran Duran comics began showing up in my Twitter feed months ago, re-tweeted by fellow Duranies. When I saw them, and its author, I thought, Hmmmmm, that name rings a bell… I didn’t make the connection, but anyone who turns classic Duran Duran videos into comics is OK with me.
 
Turns out she's a writer. And then I found out she wrote a new book about Duran Duran. Specifically, a collection of essays aptly titled Duranalysis.
 
Not gonna lie: she had me at the cover.
 
A vinyl record with a label that could pass for a Duran Duran design—simple, yet stylish—I had high expectations. And I wasn’t disappointed.
 
Richter opens the collection very candidly. In some ways, we share some qualities—coming to Duran Duran slightly later than some of the original Duranies (and confusing John Taylor for Nick Rhodes at the onset), growing up without MTV during their glory days—despite living on opposite sides of the country and in vastly different settings. I easily relate to her as a storyteller, however. And her essays do just that. As she deconstructs the key Duran Duran videos, from “Planet Earth” to “Girl Panic,” she chronicles not only the journey of a band, but also the journey of a fan. We are right back in our living rooms with our fellow Duranies (the ones who had MTV), staying up late, poring over pinups, planning our weddings to the Duran of our affection. We mark the milestones. We once again reconnect to the glamour, the fashion, the neon, the desperate hope and anticipation of them coming to our town.
 
And the music. Always, it begins and ends with the music.

Better yet, she does it all with a humorous approach, not taking any aspect of Duran Duran—the videos, the albums, the pandemonium—too seriously. She equally distributes compliments and criticism without being syrupy nor scathing. And yet, one can't help but be touched at times. Morgan finesses the fine line with stylistic precision that makes me wish I'd written this book. Her essays are intelligent as much as they are informative and entertaining.
 
In short, this is a book for Duranies—the diehards, who know these videos with their eyes closed; as well as the new generation, who are only now discovering them, either thanks to their parents or aunts and uncles or YouTube and iTunes and Coachella or Lollapalooza. But it’s also a book for those who dig fantasy, who dig pop culture, who dig music and 80s nostalgia and geekdom. It’s a book for people who love stories.
 
Count me in.

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