If as a child you found your parents embarrassing then this hiss-and-tell memoir will make you feel a lot better, as Cosmo Landesman had parents who were off the Richter scale of embarrassment. Jay and Fran were two wacky, middle-aged American egotists who arrived in ‘the land of the stiff upper lip’ and caused mayhem. Blind to their own blush-making toxicity, they were obsessed with being famous.
Life at home was like a bad sitcom, as they canoodled with their respective lovers in front of their children’s schoolfriends and then, like some grotesque TV reality show, shamelessly paraded their open marriage to the media, the ultimate examples of the look-at-me-me-me generation. Poor little Cosmo blushed and cringed most days as they rode roughshod over his childhood. His simple expectations of having parents who might want to put their children first or encourage their offsprings’ dreams rather than sideline them as a tiresome interruption to their all-important pursuit of fame were monstrously derailed.
Starstruck is a funny book in both senses. Landesman essentially skewers his mum and dad with his pen, but even this feeds their egotism. We learn that they revel in their son’s blame-game memoir, seeing it as a new and welcome platform from which to propel their ambitions. So the book is also a commentary on fame, celebrity and success, but not the success of being a loving parent, patient listener, supporter, cocooner or even moral guide. It highlights the emptiness of their interpretation: the pursuit of status.
Cosmo is relentless in making the same point again and again, sometimes like a scream but more often as an amusing riff, railing against a life-long injustice. Perhaps the only crumb of comfort is that his parents deserve each other.
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in