#Extract: #BlogTour #Extract: Deadstar by Nick Griffiths @NickG_author @ZooloosBT #Deadstar #NivkGriffiths #ZoolooBookTours

Book Synopsis:

What’s it like to reach for the stars, but end up floating in a tin can?

Garth Tyson wanted to be the next David Bowie. He fell short. Waaaay short. Burnt out, he fled the stage at Glastonbury ’85, having been pelted with mud, and was never seen again.

You’re familiar with the stars of this era: the Adam Ants, Duran Durans and Depeche Modes – musicians who successfully navigated punk and New Wave to become icons.

Bet you’ve never heard of Garth Tyson – singer, brother, dreamer. Stallholder.

That’s why we’re here.

Decades after Garth’s disappearance, former bandmates, friends, relatives, lovers, music-biz execs and two fans (you try finding more) reunite to tell Garth’s compelling, tragicomic tale. Can any shed light on what really happened to him?

Not everyone appears willingly. Here’s Garth’s 80-year-old mother, Doreen Thyssen: ‘I don’t like people who dig dirt. Fuck off.’ The charmer.

Loved Daisy Jones? Try this perfectly squalid British version.

Extract:

From Chapter 5: 1980… Bernice Broderick-Imlach has her own website; though she has long since retired, it contains plenty about her previous life in celebrity management. She appears to be something of a legend in those circles, if her own blurb is to be believed.

There’s also a gallery of archive photographs, taken at galas, premieres, parties and suchlike, in which Bernice brushes shoulders – she does love a shoulder pad, incidentally – with stars, many of whom, admittedly, I failed to recognise. Lee Majors is in there, William Shatner, Barbara Bach, JR Ewing himself, Larry Hagman…

Bernice is dwarfed by all of them. The woman is particularly petite, with a big flame-dyed hairdo that sweeps across her forehead. Pointy plastic-surgery face – painted to within an inch of its life – and not an ounce of fat on her. Always glamorously dressed. Always snapped with her mouth open, seemingly in mid-conversation. In certain photos she is on her own and appears to be talking to herself.

I emailed her first, using the Contact section of Bernice’s website, explaining everything. She replied about a week later: “Call me at noon EST Friday. Bring cookies, bubbly and a pert tush, darling.” How could I refuse?

Her accent is noticeably New York: “cwawfee” not “coffee”. She speaks quite huskily and tends to shout, as if we have a bad line. We do not.

Bernice Broderick-Imlach: Darling! How are you? Is this Nick? Yes? I knew it! Call me BB, darling! How are you? I’m very well, thanks, BB. How are you?

BB: Oh, don’t start, darling! How aren’t I? That’s what you should be asking.

[Stuck for a response.] BB: So how can I help you? Your email – I can read them, you know, it just takes a hand crank and eye glass… People think us dribbling old fools can’t work technology. They do! I tell them they can fuck off! By email, darling! That really messes with their minds! How old do you think BB is? Really! Take a stab!

Well. I…. BB: No, darling, not even close! But you’re very kind! Add a thousand and you’re in the right ballpark. Darling, I am contemporaneous with Tutankhamun and half as moisturised.

My skin is so dry, I step outside in the lightest of winds, suddenly I’m chasing my departing face down the sidewalk! It’s embarrassing, darling. Tiny children hand me my nose back.

They do. Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! Your email said you wanted to talk about Garth Tyson. Lovely boy! A delight to represent! And I did represent him – in all sorts of ways. No I didn’t. BB’s pulling your piece. You’re writing a book about him, you said? What in heaven’s name for? Are you insane?

About The Author:

Author BioNick Griffiths first printed work was a review of The Shamen, in Sounds, dated November1989. The once psychedelic band had gone house and he simply didn’t understand.After Sounds – his music weekly of choice throughout his youth, so a dream come true – hewas headhunted for the launch of Select magazine, for whom he wrote reviews andfeatures, involving a brief but swoonsome meeting with his all-time hero, David Bowie.David gently advised Nick to given Lodger another listen, so he did.Moving on to women’s and computer games magazines by the mid-1990s, Nick settledfreelancing for the Radio Times and Daily Mail, reviewing TV shows and interviewing theirstars, too numerous to mention. He became Radio Times’ Doctor Who correspondent afterthe show’s return in 2005, which led to him being commissioned by Gollancz/Orion to writehis first book, a memoir about growing up as a Doctor Who fan, titled Dalek I Loved You(2007).A Whovian travelogue, Who Goes There, followed, from Legend Press, who also publishedNick’s comic novels, In the Footsteps of Harrison Dextrose and Looking for Mrs Dextrose.Having also written freelance for several of the national broadsheets, Nick quit journalism in2011 to move from London to Cornwall (where his wife grew up), with his young family.Since 2014 he has been running the vintage-lighting shop, Any Old Lights, in Fowey, butreally missed writing. Hence his first book in ten years: DeadStar.DeadStar, a fictional music oral history, set during punk and New Wave, launches on 25January 2022.

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