Ever since reading Jacqueline Susann’s “The Valley Of The Dolls” at an impressionable age I have had a hankering for tales of Hollywood featuring actors who create an impression, fall in love, find fame hard to cope with, take drugs and begin a downward spiral. Nowadays, these novels are in short supply, the “bonkbuster” style having gone out of fashion. Jackie Collins has written more of a few like this and I always enjoyed sister Joan’s novels which followed along similar themes. Carol Branston has added her name to this list and by setting it in the period of the late 60’s/early 70’s has the opportunity to capture the hedonism of Hollywood at this time.
The novel begins with a murder, Nicky Venuti, who was just a few years before Hollywood’s golden boy, meeting his end by a knife in the street. This is the tale as to how this happened. Nicky’s character is dwarfed by a couple of the others. English rose Valerie Rhodes is catapaulted into fame when she co-stars with Nicky and the pair become high profile lovers. It is Valerie whose rise and downward spiral is central in this book. She is somewhat unlikeable, passively floats from one situation to another and it is no surprise that she is soon shovelling pills down her throat. Nicky, also not terribly likeable, sees Valerie as a way of covering up his homosexuality. Both are weak and are soon victims of Hollywood. More likeable is the superbly trashy super-rich Karen van Dougall who manipulates everyone but is often their only true friend. This is the end of the swinging 60’s and sexualities are blurred as drugs, sex and booze are readily available.
The story moves along generally well in the build-up to Nicky’s demise. Some scenes are overwritten to the point of triviality and sometimes more significant scenes are just reported. Branston is keen to give us a narrator to relate to, Joe, hairdresser to the stars. I didn’t feel that this was necessary. I don’t feel that Joe adds anything to the story by being its narrator. You rarely get the sense of him and often forget it is him telling the tale. An anonymous third-person omniscient narration would have worked better . Joe’s rare interventions into the story do not really work. I think Branston has a good go at conveying the feel of New York and Hollywood at this time, and is really quite effective when the story moves to Swinging London. There’s a kind of guilty pleasure when the characters hit upon difficult times and situations but in this kind of book that is to be expected. It does recall the days when Jacqueline Susann, Harold Robbins, Jackie Collins and their ilk were churning out novels like this although with boundaries being pushed back since then Branston is able to be more explicit in her depiction of the amoral at work and play.

The seventies were known for its fashion, and good music, that can be appreciated even today still. The descriptions of the era following free love is riveting, and the book is absolutely a worth-the-effort part of my novel collection.

The swinging 60's were filled with drugs. sex, and rock and roll. So many celebrities seemed to live on drugs and sex and some of the swinging was through doors that swung both ways.
Into this world comes innocent and sheltered Valerie. She's a child star who after three years doing French art films, has her first big mainstream film. Her costar is the charming NIcky who realizes the best way to gain star status rather than teeny-bopper fame is to create a love affair with his young costar. But Nicky has a secret-a rather big one- that will come back to haunt both him and Val.
Between her so-called friends who ply her with a kaleidoscope of drugs, her mother who plots her every breath and her ersatz boyfriend, she loses any grasp on reality as she stumbles from Italy to New York to Florida to London. Strung out of her mind, her career, once so promising is in ashes. Her life is in shambles.
This book reminds me a bit of some of the potboilers from that era such as Valley of the Dolls. It is a demi-world that must have seemed glamorous at the time but today just seems tawdry. Even the ending, that for some, might have been vindication just seemed sad and pointless.
I cannot say I enjoyed this book because there was not one character whom I liked, including Val but I am ashamed to say that it kept me turning the page. Sidney Sheldon move over.

This book was OK but I found the writing and the story to be predicable. It is not really a mystery but there is a murder. It reminded me of the books by Harold Robbins with lots of sex and drugs. If you are familiar with some of the gossip from the 60s and 70s you will recognize the real people and events. I was hoping for some more originality and more surprises. It is a quick read and makes an excellent beach read.