If you’ve spent any time on BookTok or scrolling through "Summer Reading" lists over the last few years, you’ve seen that iconic, sun-drenched cover. It’s hard to miss. Songs in Ursa Major by Emma Brodie is one of those rare novels that manages to feel like a vintage vinyl record come to life.
But honestly? A lot of people pick it up thinking it’s just another Daisy Jones & The Six clone. It isn't. While both books lean heavily into that hazy, 1970s Laurel Canyon aesthetic, Brodie’s debut is doing something much more specific—and arguably more grounded in actual music history.
The Secret Origins of Jane and Jesse
So, let’s talk about the elephant in the room. Or rather, the "Blue" elephant.
Basically, Songs in Ursa Major is a fictionalized reimagining of the real-life romance between Joni Mitchell and James Taylor. If you know your folk-rock lore, the parallels are everywhere. Jesse Reid is a dead ringer for Taylor—the "Sweet Baby James" era, specifically. He’s tall, soft-spoken, has those denim-blue eyes, and is nursing a heroin addiction that the industry is more than happy to sweep under the rug to protect their golden boy.
Then you have Jane Quinn. She’s the Joni figure.
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Jane isn’t just a "girlfriend." She’s a powerhouse. She’s the girl from Bayleen Island (a very thinly veiled Martha’s Vineyard) who steps onto the festival stage in 1969 after Jesse crashes his motorcycle. It’s a classic "A Star is Born" moment, but Brodie twists it. Instead of Jane being "saved" by Jesse, she’s often the one trying to navigate the wreckage of his fame while trying to keep her own soul intact.
Why the "Ursa Major" Metaphor Hits Different
The title isn't just a cool-sounding space reference. In the book, Songs in Ursa Major is the name of Jane’s breakthrough 1971 album.
Think of it as Jane’s version of Blue.
Emma Brodie has mentioned in interviews that she took direct inspiration from the way Joni Mitchell wrote about her life—the raw, "geometric" way the songs fit together. There’s a specific track in the book called "Ursa Major" where Jane realizes she’s part of a "constellation" of people. It’s about the realization that you can’t truly own another person, and you certainly can’t save them from themselves.
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The book does a killer job of showing the grit behind the glamour. You’ve got:
- The grueling reality of 1970s touring (no private jets here, just vans and bad food).
- The blatant, "man-splaining" misogyny of producers like Vincent Ray.
- The heartbreaking toll of mental illness and "family secrets" that are actually just undiagnosed trauma.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Industry Politics
One thing readers often miss is how accurately Brodie captures the gender politics of the singer-songwriter era.
In the late 60s, a male artist like Jesse Reid could be an addict, a "difficult" genius, or totally unreliable, and the label would hire people to literally clean up his messes. If a woman like Jane Quinn demanded creative control? She was "difficult." She was "shrewish."
Jane’s battle isn't just about writing hits; it’s about owning her master tapes. It’s about not letting a producer turn her folk-psych-rock sound into something "prettier" for the radio. Honestly, it feels incredibly modern. You can see the echoes of Taylor Swift’s battle for her masters or Fiona Apple’s legendary friction with her labels in Jane’s 1970s journey.
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The Movie: What’s Actually Happening?
People have been asking about a film adaptation since the book dropped.
The good news: Village Roadshow Pictures and Berlanti Productions (the folks behind Love, Simon and a ton of DC shows) snapped up the rights back in 2020.
The even better news: Emma Brodie herself was tapped to write the screenplay. This is huge because it means the "ekphrasis"—the way she describes music in the book—won't get lost in translation. In the novel, she describes songs as "geometric tessellations" or "cathedrals." Turning those vibes into an actual cinematic soundtrack is a tall order, but having the author in the room helps.
Actionable Insights for Your Next Read
If you’re about to dive into Songs in Ursa Major, or if you just finished it and want more, here is how to get the most out of the experience:
- Listen to the "Inspiration" Playlist: Before you read, put on Joni Mitchell’s Blue and James Taylor’s Sweet Baby James. Listen for the track "Carey" (which inspired the character Roger) and "River." It makes the book's atmosphere 10x thicker.
- Watch the "A Star is Born" Evolutions: Compare Jane's rise to the 1976 Barbra Streisand version of A Star is Born. You’ll see exactly where Brodie is subverting the "doomed lover" trope.
- Check out the Martha's Vineyard History: Look up the folk scene on the island in the late 60s. The "Bayleen Island Folk Fest" is basically a love letter to that specific time and place.
- Read the Lyrics Closely: Don't skim the lyrics Brodie wrote for the book. They actually contain the "spoilers" for Jane's character arc and her mother's mysterious past.
The reason this book stays with you isn't the romance. It's the way it handles the "glittering beast" of fame and the cost of being a woman with a vision. It's a reminder that even in the stars—or the constellations—you have to find your own way home.
Next Steps: If you loved the "behind the scenes" music vibes of Songs in Ursa Major, your next logical read is The Final Revival of Opal & Nev by Dawnie Walton or Utopia Avenue by David Mitchell. Both dive deep into the technical and social grit of the 1970s music scene with the same level of expert detail.