Julian Gough
BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR
- Title: Juno And Juliet
- Description:
A romantic comedy, this novel features the characters Juno and Juliet, 18 year-old blonde twin sisters, who arrive at university in Galway from their Tipperary home, and each set off on a romantic odyssey. About the Author Julian Gough was born in London in 1966, his family returning to Ireland when he was seven. He was educated by the Christian Brothers in Tipperary, back in the days when they were still allowed to throw you across the room. He has a degree in Philosophy and English. Two days spent converting chickens into nuggets in a fast food joint made him a conscientious objector to paid employment; he therefore spent his twenties on the dole. During this time, his band, Toasted Heretic, played London, Paris and New York while producing four cult albums and an Irish top-ten single. This led to his dole being cut by seven pounds a week. Gough went on to co-write the successful stage-play 'Peig: The Musical!' He lives in Galway. 'Juno and Juliet' is his first novel. Excerpted from Juno & Juliet by Julian Gough. Copyright © 2002. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. When Juno and I stepped off the bus in Eyre Square we were armed only with an enormous rucksack each and the scribbled address of a distant cousin. A blizzard of youth-hostel flyers immediately engulfed us, clearing only to reveal a blizzard of youths, smiling at us in French, Spanish, English and Italian. Juno told them we didn’t need a hostel, but thank you anyway. I told them we didn’t need a hostel, so f*** off. And there I think you have, neatly illustrated, the essential difference between her and me. I had, to be fair to me, not enjoyed the journey very much. The peace had held all through the morning’s packing, but on the way out the door I managed to have an almighty row with our father. What was it about? Ah, what are they ever about. It was about nothing. All the way up on the bus I had stomach cramps and a headache. A drunk behind us spewed against the back of my seat. Then he tried to make light conversation. The driver spent the entire journey with the radio on at full blast as he attempted, with an ever-increasing lack of success which would have disheartened a lesser man, to tune into a country and western station that seemed to be making its last, faint, desperate broadcast from somewhere beyond the edge of the solar system. Things rapidly improved once we’d got off the bus and through the blizzard. Pausing only to shovel fistfuls of flyers into the big yellow litterbins that disfigured the edge of Eyre Square, we headed for the nearest coffeeshop. Apart from a couple of buskers and another drunk and a spotty boy with a clipboard who promised not to take up much of our valuable time and didn’t, nobody bothered us for money, our names, or a kiss in the hundred yards to the GBC coffeeshop and restaurant. Some kind of record. I should probably explain that Juno began to be beautiful around the age of fourteen and the process shows no sign of stopping. Her beauty refines and upgrades itself constantly. At the time this story begins, she has just turned eighteen and it’s almost ridiculous how beautiful she is. No, it is ridiculous how beautiful she is. She’s beautiful to the point where it might as well be a disfigurement. She’s invisible behind it. It’s all people see. Not just men. Everyone. That doesn’t mean everyone’s attracted to her. It just means everyone has an attitude, an opinion, before they know a damn thing about her. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s the way we are. It annoys the hell out of me. I should probably also explain that Juno is my identical twin. We got a seat in the nook at the back. The coffee was lovely. My cramps and headache faded. We’d left home. I felt great. Eventually we paid up and went to look for the house of our distant cousin. We found it.
