“When the special ones perform, they have no choice. They just have to do it, like breathing.” So writes Stuart Murdoch in his novel, Nobody’s Empire, which released in January of this year. It’s a semi-autobiographical tale of a young man, Stephen, who finds himself dealing with a chronic illness just as he encounters an artistic awakening that inspires him to become a musician.

Written more than 100 years apart, there are striking similarities between Stuart Murdoch’s 2025 novel, Nobody’s Empire, and Irish writer James Joyce’s 1914 novel Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. Both books are accounts of each author’s discovery of their artistic natures. Interestingly and perhaps not coincidentally, both books are narrated by a protagonist called Stephen: Murdoch’s Stephen Rutherford and Joyce’s Stephen Daedalus.

The similarities, however, divert sharply from there. Joyce’s Daedalus is hampered by the cultural and political baggage of late-19th and early-20th century Ireland; Rutherford, on the other hand, is bound by the oppressive nature of his chronic illness: myalgic encephalomyelitis — better known as chronic fatigue syndrome or by its initials ME. The coincidence of that initialism, and the first-person pronoun, serves Murdoch’s text well.

Rutherford has internalized his disease to the extent that when he ascribes a problem to “ME,” the double meaning feels intentional. The character accepts what ME has dealt him to the degree he expresses an ironic gratitude for it: “Maybe I had to be laid so low to start seeing the beauty again. … Now I see the good stuff, now I see the possibilities from a different place.”

The story in Nobody’s Empire begins in Glasgow, where we find Stephen living with his friend and fellow ME sufferer, Richard, near the university where they were enrolled but had to drop out due to illness. Nearby is Stephen’s friend, Carrie, also afflicted with ME. The trio support one another through ME by sharing coping mechanisms and finding happiness where they can.

Carrie describes a fondness for P.G. Wodehouse. Much like Wodehouse’s stories of Bertie Wooster that leap from London to New York, Murdoch’s Stephen, wanting to escape the cold and damp of a Glasgow winter, departs with Richard for California. Caught up in the excitement and optimism of 1990s San Francisco and San Diego, Stephen and Richard pursue their California dreams, making new friends and making new music.

Stephen’s fascination with music makes for an exciting thread throughout Nobody’s Empire. It begins softly, at low tempo, but builds as the story unfolds. “It meant so much to me at the time, meant everything,” Stephen muses about listening to his favorite bands — including the Pixies, the Smiths, Luna, and Belly’s Tanya Donnelly. “It was cool people, interesting people, people I wanted to be with, people I wanted to be. Plus it involved this magical activity called music.”

Stephen’s name-dropping of bands, musicians and songs throughout the book is reminiscent of the truly autobiographical (and very funny) 2019 book, How Does It Feel? A Life of Musical Misadventures. Its author is film critic and musician Mark Kermode, whose legions of favorite artists include Lonnie Donegan, Slade, and the Comsat Angels. Both Murdoch and Kermode share their unlimited love of music, name-checking artists in a way that invites readers to dig deeper, maybe even leaf through the books to build a playlist for each.

Murdoch’s prose is vividly descriptive without being alienating. His words invite us into each scene, and he’s not afraid to laugh at himself. When Stephen is learning his first chords on guitar, Murdoch writes, “It was awkward. My hand looked like a spider crab playing Twister.”

There are, on occasion, times when Murdoch diverts from the main narrative to share an observation or description that doesn’t serve the plot, other than as coincidental background. That said, these little vignettes help reinforce the 1990s setting — critically, a time before mobile phones and the comprehensive documentation of everything on social media and Google Maps. These passages also create the feeling that one is reading someone’s journal, an account excitedly recorded by a young person enthralled by everything they are learning and experiencing. Moreover, these vignettes stoke the mystery of what is fact and what is fabrication. The line between Stephen Rutherford and Stuart Murdoch remains playfully ambiguous. Only those closest to Murdoch may know exactly where it lies.

The book title itself comes from a song on Belle & Sebastian’s 2015 album, Girls in Peacetime Want to Dance, and for fans of the band, Murdoch gifts us by scattering breadcrumbs throughout the novel — passing mentions of, for example, an art school student named Sukie, a protein bar called Tigermilk, a song draft about the stars of track and field — all delightful nudges from the author that entice an appreciative smile or an “a-ha!" by the reader.

And that supports the simple fact that Nobody’s Empire is, at its heart, a fun read. It’s not Joyce; it’s joy. Much like listening to the music of Belle & Sebastian, reading Stuart Murdoch’s book Nobody’s Empire will likely make you happy.

External Links

Stuart Murdoch, Nobody’s Empire – HarperCollins

Belle and Sebastian – official site