If you know anything about my horrific musical tastes,* you won’t be surprised to learn that I know bugger all about Nico. 

To be crystal clear, I’m aware of The Velvet Underground. I’ve even heard of Lou Reed (though not so much John Cale). But I had no idea that Nico sang with them or that an Andy Warhol banana is featured on the album’s front cover. I mean. I know now, but not when I picked up this book.**

Thankfully, James Young, one of the founders of The Faction who toured with Nico for close to six years, fills us in on his subject before he dives into his first-hand account. The Nico we meet, who Young spent his formative years with as a musician, is not the “half goddess, half icicle” of La Dolce Vita or The Velvet Underground or best friends (until she wasn’t) with Andy Warhol. She’s exhausted, cranky, hooked on coke, ferried around from doss house to doss house by her manager with the flamboyant moniker of Doctor Demetrius (loosely based on Manchester music promoter Alan Wise. Note how I said loosely based).

Rather than present us with a staid biography, Young goes full narrative. It makes for a breezy, hilarious, drug-addled read, brimming with magnificent one-liners and a string of bizarre set pieces. Young doesn’t paper over Nico’s flaws—most of them, but not all, a result of her addiction. But he never mocks her, either. If anything, this chaotic novel is a love letter to Nico, one that appreciates her for her talent, for her strength, for her willingness to keep going until she no longer could. It’s very moving while also being very funny.

I started the book knowing nothing about Nico; I ended the book with a coke habit and an appreciation of Nico’s place in the history of alternative rock

*Bryan Adams and Meatloaf for the win!

**I also wasn’t aware that Nico has a small role in La Dolce Vita, possibly because I haven’t seen La Dolce Vita. ***

***Stop yelling at me.