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When we learn that our rock icons can behave badly, it makes them seem real and fallible and vulnerable, a bit less like gods.
She's name-checked in Grand Funk Railroad's "We're an American Band," and for good reason.
” Des Barres argues, when we speak on the phone from her home in Venice Beach, California.
“I wrote mine simply because I had a story to tell.” By her own admission, Des Barres, now 68, says that she has been “milking” its success ever since, penning subsequent memoirs, and teaching people how to write kiss and tells of their own (one of her students is currently working on a Michael Jackson expose).
And if you are going to be damned for telling the truth, then so be it.” is, at 768 pages, a foreboding door-stopper in which Aherne features merely fleetingly, but it is this episode that has bagged the headlines, which, suggests Lee Brackstone, editor at Faber & Faber, says much not only about the media’s tawdry obsessions but also, by extension, ours.
“We’ve always been drawn to the dark things in people’s lives,” he says. “Ultimately you have to wonder whether that kind of information works in the book’s favour.
Never a man to mince his words, Hook’s just-published memoir, , not only conveys his erstwhile New Order bandmates in a fashion that suggests a reunion remains distinctly unlikely, but also discusses his former wife, Caroline Aherne, the much-loved actor and comedian who died in July.
Their marriage, he writes, was an abusive one, and she the abuser, attacking him with lit cigarettes and knives.
When David Bowie passed away in January, his first wife Angie elected to write a piece for the , doesn’t fall entirely comfortably into this category.“Many do it to kickstart a celebrity career themselves, and generate revenue.They certainly have a right to tell their story, but they often create a huge amount of hurt largely because their books require a pretty nasty narrative.” This is territory that Peter Hook, former New Order bassist, has recently strayed into himself.Kronstad was unexpectedly shaken by the news – “suddenly all these feelings came flooding back” – and so she did what many people in her position feel compelled to do: she wrote about those returning feelings in a very readable memoir, out next month, that will inescapably nestle amid that most circumspect of literary genres, the kiss and tell.Kiss and tell has an unenviable history, the poor cousin of the first-person account in which recollections – normally from the perspective of a former spouse/lover/gofer – must, by necessity, titillate and shock, indiscretion running carefree through its pages.
She is preparing to publish her latest book, , in which she instructs other would-be sensationalists exactly how to dish the dirt. “Oh, I’m still referred to as a whore all the time, a national slut,” she says, “but what can I tell you?