Emma Straub went on a New Kids on the Block cruise and came back with the idea for a novel. A ship full of devoted fans, a beloved boyband and nowhere to escape the feelings: sometimes the setting does half the pitching for you.
American Fantasy, published April 7 by Riverhead Books, follows a four-day voyage with a fictional nineties boyband and three thousand fans. This is a look at its premise and Straub’s account of its inspiration, rather than a verdict based on a documented cover-to-cover reading.
A Cruise Ship Is a Pressure Cooker With a Buffet
In an April 9 interview with the Associated Press, Straub explained that the real cruise offered an immediately appealing fictional setup: a defined group sharing a confined space for several days. She had gone aboard while grieving her father and found herself drawn into the fandom around her.
You can see why the idea works on paper. An ordinary concert has an exit. A themed cruise has tomorrow’s breakfast, another event and the possibility of running into the same people again. It gives a writer repeated encounters without needing to invent increasingly improbable reasons for everyone to meet.
The band performs for its audience. The audience has expectations of the band. Everyone brings an older version of themselves along in the luggage, alongside the clothes that seemed more sensible before packing.
Annie Has More Than a Holiday to Think About
The publisher’s synopsis introduces Annie, who joins the voyage to please her sister and initially feels out of place. Familiar music reconnects her with a part of herself she has set aside. Meeting one of the performers opens another possibility: encountering a person behind a celebrity image.
That premise gives the novel a richer question than whether being a fan is embarrassing. What happens when the things that once made you feel intensely alive turn up again, but you have changed? Is the attraction the music, the company, the memory of being young—or some combination you cannot neatly separate?
Those questions do not require a boyband obsession. Substitute a beloved game, a film series or a record you played until the case broke. The precise object changes; the uneasy reunion with an earlier self is easy to imagine.
Let People Enjoy Things
There is a particular kind of cultural snobbery that treats visible enthusiasm as a lapse in judgment. A reserved nod at an approved concert is sophisticated; screaming for a former teen idol somehow requires an explanation.
As a way of organizing pleasure, that seems exhausting. Nobody should need to produce a short critical essay before admitting that a song still makes them happy. A fan community can offer shared references, friendships and the relief of not having to explain the joke.
At the same time, loving a public image is different from knowing the person behind it. That gap is part of what makes this setup intriguing: close physical proximity does not necessarily create mutual familiarity. A buffet is not a friendship contract.
A Book to Investigate, Not a Boarding Pass
If you enjoy stories about midlife change, fandom and the collision between fantasy and ordinary life, the premise gives you a clear reason to investigate American Fantasy. The author’s book page and the publisher’s sample are useful places to decide whether the voice suits you.
For another route into the way old favorites keep finding an audience, see our piece on vinyl’s continuing appeal. The format and the setting differ, but both offer a chance to think about what we keep returning to.
The U.S. hardcover is 304 pages, with a listed price of $30. A fanny pack is not required. If you already own one full of ancient fan memorabilia, however, this may be an unusually efficient moment to bring it out.
