DAISY JONES & THE SIX - BOOK REVIEW

Title: Daisy Jones & The Six

Author: Taylor Jenkins Reid

Format: Paperback | Audiobook | E-Book

Pages: 368

Length: 09h03m

Published: 5 March 2019

Publisher: Ballantine Books

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐.5

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I’ve long been convinced I was born in the wrong decade. My heart has always belonged to the 1970s—specifically, its music, its grit, its feverish, soul-baring creativity. If you ever catch wind of a working time machine, you’ll know exactly where to find me: 1972, standing barefoot in the grass at Pink Floyd’s Live in Pompeii, overwhelmed with the magic of it all.

So when I came across Daisy Jones & The Six, I didn’t just want to read it—I needed to. A fictional rock band, framed like a rockumentary, with a rumoured love triangle and a story set against the backdrop of ‘70s Los Angeles? I was all in. From the moment I cracked the cover, it was like stepping into a vinyl-record world of cocaine haze, raw talent, and stage lights. And once I finished the print, I turned around and devoured the audiobook within the same 24 hours. That's how hooked I was.

Told entirely through a documentary-style oral history, the novel gives us a chorus of voices—band members, managers, producers, lovers—each offering their recollection of the meteoric rise and spectacular implosion of Daisy Jones & The Six. What makes this format so captivating is how subjective memory becomes. No two people tell the same story the same way. And Taylor Jenkins Reid leans into that inconsistency with brilliance. You’re constantly shifting between perspectives, piecing together what really happened between Daisy, Billy, and the rest of the band, which somehow feels more real than a traditional narrative ever could.

And then, there’s Daisy.

Daisy Jones is the kind of character who commands a room even on paper. She’s beautiful, sure—but it’s her recklessness, her freedom, her refusal to be defined by anyone but herself that makes her unforgettable. She’s complicated and chaotic and, at times, heartbreakingly fragile. But she’s also fire—untamed, unapologetic, and fiercely talented. Reid doesn’t just write Daisy—she builds her. Every quote, every anecdote, every flaw becomes another layer in a character so lifelike I kept forgetting she wasn’t real.

Opposite her is Billy Dunne—the lead singer of The Six. Clean-cut, married, recovering, driven, and stubborn. His dynamic with Daisy is the beating heart of the novel: two alpha creatives constantly pushing, pulling, resisting, and colliding. Their relationship—musical, emotional, at times romantic—is never simple. But it’s electric. Their chemistry is so palpable it practically hums off the page. Yet what impressed me even more is how Reid never reduces their connection to a cliché. It’s not about will-they-or-won’t-they—it’s about the art they create together, the boundaries they push, and the lines they’re afraid to cross.

Then there’s Camila. And if you know, you know. Camila, Billy’s wife, is one of the quietest characters but perhaps the most powerful. She’s the grounding force in the chaos. Her strength is quiet but fierce, and her choices made me pause more than once with a hand over my heart. She is grace and resilience in a story full of volatility.

Each band member—Karen, Graham, Eddie, Warren—has their own arc, their own struggles, their own moments of brilliance and bitterness. There are no weak links. Reid gives each one a voice that feels distinct, and she allows their petty conflicts, rivalries, and vulnerabilities to shine through. This wasn’t just Daisy and Billy’s story—it was theirs, and that collective energy is part of what makes the book so immersive.

Now, let’s talk about the audiobook. If you haven’t listened to it yet, please do. The full cast—featuring Jennifer Beals as Daisy, Benjamin Bratt as Billy, and others—takes the story to a whole new level. Each voice adds personality, depth, and emotional nuance. It honestly felt like I was listening to a true crime documentary or a vintage VH1 special. The cadence, the emotion, the subtle inflections—it was all so perfectly done. I actually forgot it was fiction more than once.

My only reason for not giving this a full five stars is the very thing that makes the book unique—the format. As brilliant as the interview style is, it does, occasionally, create a sense of emotional distance. I found myself wanting to live in the moments sometimes instead of being told about them after the fact. But that’s not a flaw, really—it’s a stylistic trade-off. And it’s one that Reid executes with razor-sharp precision.

Daisy Jones & The Six is a love letter to music, to the messiness of creative partnerships, and to the kind of lightning-in-a-bottle magic that can never quite last—but leaves an indelible mark anyway. It’s also about women and their voices—finding them, owning them, protecting them. And for that alone, it deserves all the praise it’s received.

So, if you’ve ever wished you could step into a smoky recording studio in Laurel Canyon, if you’ve ever lost yourself in a song, or if you’ve ever wanted to believe that art can both destroy and heal—you need this book in your life. And once you read it, don’t be surprised if you start searching Spotify for a band that never existed.