Trashing celebrity culture is something of a sport for sections of the intelligentsia.  Just as semi-literate imbeciles clamour for the latest news on Bosh and Pecks’ new diet regime, or intimate details of some pop-tart’s marital breakdown, educated types have an endless appetite for Brookerian or Eltonian celeb-scorn.  It’s a vicious cycle of sniping, to which celebrated thriller writer Carl Hiaasen has made a laudable contribution with Star Island.Star Island is the tale of Cherry Pye, a vacuous, chronically untalented starlet, and her body double Ann DeLusia.  DeLusia is an actress, working as Pye’s sober doppelganger to prevent the perpetually intoxicated Pye from humiliating herself in front of the paparazzi.  So convincing is the likeness that one obsessed paparazzo kidnaps the wrong woman, leading to a less-frantic-than-would-be-ethical quest by Pye’s entourage to rescue Ann.
Star Island was published in America back in 2010, but recent news events have only made it more relevant.  An inveterate substance abuser, Cherry Pye is recognised by her entire entourage to be on the fast track to an early grave, and the recent lowlight of her career was an unfortunate decision to open a show in Boston while under the influence of crystal meth.  Parallels with the late Amy Winehouse are obvious, but it must be remembered, Hiaasen’s book pre-dates her own tour cancellation and tragic end; this isn’t plagiarism but prescience.

The same applies to Hiaasen’s treatment of the paparazzi.  Through the character of Bang Abbott, a habitually unwashed, morally bankrupt snapper, he shows us the freelance photographer at his most venal.  Hounding celebrities at every end and turn, paying off service industry workers for tips, and actively hoping for his subject’s death in order to inflate the cost of his work.  This is satire from Hiaasen, but as the Leveson Inquiry now confirms, this is also scarcely exaggerated fact.

Through a bizarre cast of characters, Hiaasen sheds light on the bizarre world of the celebrity industry.  At the top of the shop is Cherry Pye herself.  Egocentric, entitled, and utterly devoid of self-control, she is a distillation of any number of real-life high-profile harlots.  However, she does not exist in a vacuum.  She is enabled by her parasitic family and entourage; her mother, whose primary concern at her daughter’s possible heroin use is how it will affect the brand; her father, who spends more time swinging than parenting, and the Larks, an effective but amoral pair of PR gurus specialising in saving supernova-ing stars.  This is not “live fast, die young, leave a beautiful corpse,” rather “live stupid, die predictably, leave a nest-egg for your hangers-on.”

As with much of Hiaasen, the theme of environmentalism gets a run-out, but here it feels relatively tacked-on.  Recurring character and ex-Governor of Florida, Clinton Tyree AKA “Skink” makes an appearance, very loosely tying two divergent storylines together.  Skink is an amusing character, and his outlandish methods of wreaking vengeance on bad guys are something to behold, but the tale of the corrupt property developer has little bearing on the plot overall.  While consistent readers of Hiaasen may understand events here, they do dent the book’s coherence as a standalone.

Despite this, Star Island is a bitingly accurate satire.  The laughs are frequent, and are underpinned by incisive observations.  It’s hardly breaking new ground to knock celebrity culture, but few have done it as amusingly as Hiaasen.

Bookmark to