In Between Days

One Yeats recommendation. One bookshop at midnight. No going back.

Christian “Christie” Brochan plays bass for Velvet Static — Dublin-born, working-class, the heartbeat of a band the world is finally listening to. He has the cover of NME. He has had every easy night a sold-out tour can hand him, and he cannot remember the last time he wanted any of it.

Then he walks into Foyles after a show, asks a girl in a Fitzgerald T-shirt for a Yeats recommendation, and gets told Yeats is predictable.

Tamara Saldaña is half-Mexican, half-British, four languages deep — a SOAS graduate student writing her thesis on courtly love and the long, devotional ache. She does not date musicians. She has read more love poems than she has been kissed. She has, at twenty-four, made a careful art of preferring the page.

What starts as a Heaney recommendation bleeds into postcards from Amsterdam, French poetry read against his collarbone, and three-a.m. confessions whispered down hotel phone lines. And somewhere between the bridge and the bookshop, one careless confidence is going to cost them both everything they’ve built.

In Between Days is a slow-burn, dual-POV rockstar romance set against the smoke and amplifier dark of London’s post-punk underground. Tender. Filthy. Wholly devastating.

For fans of patient bassists, bookish girls finding their courage, and love built one annotated page at a time.