In fact, it was Nuttall whose girlfriend she originally became and Nuttall she would have ' a kiss and a cuddle with' whenever the three of them would spend time together in the flat owned by the Curtis family. In the minds of many people, particularly those who share the delusion that listening to and/or liking an artist's music is the same thing as 'knowing' or 'understanding' them, Deborah Curtis is the villain in his life and even regarded by some as the person whose 'selfishness' inspired him to end it –– fallacies this strikingly honest book sets out to challenge and permanently correct.ĭeborah Woodruff met her future husband Ian Curtis through the latter's best friend Tony Nuttall. What prompted me to add to this avalanche of words was not any particular fascination with Curtis himself –– I respect his talent but have always preferred the music of other Manchester bands like The Fall and The Buzzcocks to that of Joy Division –– but rather the fact that his story is told in this brief but gripping memoir by his wife, the person who discovered his corpse hanging from a clothes rack in their kitchen on that chilly spring morning and knew him for much longer and in a far more intimate way than any of his bandmates or fans can realistically claim to have known him. The Memoir: There have been dozens of reviews of this book published online, nearly all of which focus on the suicide of Ian Curtis on on the eve of what would have been the debut US tour by his band Joy Division. That evening as Tony gave me the once over and then looked away without greeting or comment, I felt for the first time that my presence might be unwelcome or even unsuitable. Too big for my jeans, I had been panicked into borrowing a dress from my mother. I was very disappointed –– the whole scenario was reminiscent of when I was pregnant. If they had disagreed with the 'no women' policy, they could have spoken up. Rob Gretton shouldered the blame, but to be fair all the boys had tongues in their heads. It was taken for granted that we would wash and iron clothes, pack cases and make excuses to employers, but now it seemed we were bad for the image. It had been OK for us to boost the numbers in the audience in the early days and we had become used to sitting on the amplifiers to stop them being stolen. It was gradually made plain to us that wives and girlfriends were no longer welcome. I thought nothing of it at the time, but the day after the gig Ian asked me not to go any more unless I had the other girls with me, as it wasn't fair if I went without them. When I went into the dressing room to look for Ian, two of the lads were in there talking to a couple of young female fans.
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