Publisher's Synopsis
The life of Willie Donaldson ended in June 2005 when he was found dead in the seedy rented flat in Chelsea where he had lived for 35 years. His computer, situated in the study he used to call the literary room, was still logged on to a website called Lesbian Mud Wrestlers. Willie Donaldsons extraordinary, perverse career of writing, drug-taking, brilliance and underachievement put him in the same holy bracket as Peter Cook, Jeffrey Bernard, Peter Sellers, Hunter Thompson and Alan Clark, although his talent for sabotaging his own achievements has meant that his legend has up until now remained a secret to the few. Born into privilege, he was an unlikely social anarchist. By the age of 25 he had published Sylvia Plath, produced Beyond the Fringe and was about to promote Bob Dylan. At the epicentre of Sixties hedonism, he had affairs with the most desired women of the time, notably Sarah Miles and Carly Simon. But deviance and self-destructiveness were never far away. Though he could switch company with enigmatic ease, he was always happiest in the company of tarts and criminals. The impresario became a serial bankrupt, and the man about town ended up living as a ponce in a Chelsea brothel. When Donaldson started writing, his work was compared to Waugh and Nabokov, but his best-known achievement would be the Henry Root Letters, a bestselling practical joke that heralded the new age of celebrity. Yet financial success merely led him deeper into a dark underworld of crack addiction, fraud and sexual perversion. For some Willie Donaldson was a great unsung comic genius. For others, he was irresponsible and diabolical. But his most lasting work of art was undoubtedly his own life a story that he was never fully capable of telling himself. Friend and collaborator Terence Blackers intimate biography will finally turn him into the iconic anti-hero of British non-conformism that he truly was, telling Willies strange story in all its glamour, hilarity and pain. William has been a very naughty boy Mad Frankie Fraser What a young fool I was. But how I adored him Carly Simon My debauched Burlington Bertie Sarah Miles A slimy crook Private Eye For the skill and wit of his writing he deserves to be hailed as the English Nabokov Auberon Waugh I am someone who always answers the phone at 1.00 am, because I know it isnt going to be my bank manager or the Inland Revenue, but probably a crack dealer or a prostitute Willie Donaldson
