Daddy dearest, I did it for you

There are some deaths which, however unexpected, seem horribly inevitable. A painful example is Gerard Depardieu's son, Guillaume, who died on Monday at the age of 37, following an attack of viral pneumonia.

The life of Depardieu fils was always troubled. He spent years doing drugs. He was involved in several violent road accidents; he lost a leg in 2004. And all this despite possessing his own acting talents: he won a Cesar (a French Oscar) for his role in Les Apprentis in 1996.

So why was his life so fraught? As one obituary put it: he existed in "angry rebellion in the shadow of his celebrated father". This is a feeling I know well.

Admittedly my father, DM Thomas, has never been as famous as Gerard Depardieu. But in the realms of literature he was once a

big star. His most famous novel, The White Hotel, sold 2 million copies in America. Graham Greene said the book was so fine it left him "speechless".

Having a father who is celebrated is deeply confusing. First of all, when you are young, comes the love and the pride: "My dad's bigger than your dad". But as you get older, the shadow begins to form. When you go places, you are introduced as "so and so's son" - not as yourself. That is pretty painful.

It is particularly painful if, thanks to genetics, you share some of your father's talent. From an early age I knew I had some skill as a writer. And yet I knew that if I became a writer there was always the risk - maybe the probability ­ that I would suffer by comparison.

I think that's why I turned to drugs, just like Guillaume Depardieu. Because I feared I couldn't beat my dad, especially at his own game - I decided I'd do the opposite: and have lots of nihilistic fun. I came close to overdoses; I did time in prison.

Naturally I don't blame all of this on my