Diamond Star Halo | Granta

  • Published: 07/04/2011
  • ISBN: 9781846272080
  • 129x20mm
  • 400 pages

Diamond Star Halo

Tiffany Murray

Growing up in a rural recording studio, Halo Llewellyn is rarely star-struck, but when one of the visiting singers gives birth to Fred, she knows right away that he’s special. As the golden child grows into the gilded man, she remains dazzled by his ambition and his talent. Up on stage, being screamed at by hundreds of teenage girls, Fred will always turn his spotlight on Halo in the crowd. But that’s the problem with falling in love with your charismatic almost-brother – it can never be a secret. In the end, the whole world has to know.

A beautiful, pitch-perfect harmony of Wuthering Heights and your favourite mix tape

Owen Sheers, author of RESISTANCE

Heartfelt writing... it fizzes. If Murray's debut was a psychedelic nod towards Stella Gibbons, in this one she proves herself the glam-rock Dodie Smith.

Guardian

This book made me smile and feel that life just became several degrees more enchanting.

Patrick Gale

The Author

Tiffany’s novels Diamond Star Halo and Happy Accidents (Harper Perennial) have both been short-listed for the Bollinger Everyman Wodehouse Prize. The Guardian called her ‘the glam rock Dodie Smith’ and selected Diamond Star Halo as one of ‘the best’ in their pick of 2010 Fiction. Tiffany studied at New York University and The University of East Anglia, where she gained her doctorate. She has written for The Times, the Daily Telegraph, the Independent and the Guardian. She is Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing at The University of Glamorgan and she lives in Wales and Portugal.

More about the author →

Tiffany Murray on Granta.com

Essays & Memoir | The Online Edition

Bohemian Rhapsody in Five Acts

Tiffany Murray

Tiffany Murray on living with Freddie Mercury as a child.

Essays & Memoir | The Online Edition

Mum and Fritz

Tiffany Murray

‘That hot afternoon I lay back on Mum’s old Chesterfield, ill, and watched this new man in a blue, velvet jacket, fingers tick-tack-ticking through his record collection.’