As some regular readers might recall, in 1986, I went to the Fairmont’s Venetian Room to see Andy Gibb, expecting to write a funny hit piece about an over-the-hill pop star. But when he got close to my table, it crossed my mind that he might actually die soon, which is not the usual thing one thinks about a 28-year-old man. He looked so vulnerable that I knew I had to hold back.

Last year,I wrote a column about that incidentand soon after writing it, I felt sheepish about it. I figured that not only would no one want to read it, but that the existence of the column itself could be construed as proof of my journalistic inadequacy.

After all, when Gibb died in 1988, I could have written about himthen. But no, that would have made too much sense. My subtle strategy was to wait until everyone was over the shock. Then wait until everybody had forgotten about him. Then wait until a whole new generation had come of age who couldn’t pick him out of a lineup. Only then did I spring my column.

Yet every so often, you can do everything wrong and yet do no wrong. It turned out that seemingly everybody read that column, and I was flooded with a cascade of friendly mail, including from Gibb’s ex-wife, Kim Reeder. I also heard from Matthew Hild, a history lecturer at Georgia Tech, who was writing a biography of Gibb.

The book is now out there, published by BearManor Media. It’s called “Arrow Through the Heart: The Biography of Andy Gibb,” and it’s good — a sympathetic treatment that’s also balanced. Hild doesn’t take a tabloid approach, and he doesn’t write like a fan. He gets the facts, and anything you want to know about Gibb can be found between its covers.

一个明显的问题：一个30岁的男人如何死于心脏麻烦？毒品是原因吗？答案混合在一起。显然，吉布（Gibb）倾向于患上心肌炎，这意味着他是关于最后一个应该sn饮可卡因的人。当他死于心肌炎时，他没有服用任何药物。但是正如希尔德所说，“即使他踢了可卡因习惯，他仍然损害了自己的心。”

In the book, Hild creates a portrait of a talented young man who lived in the shadow of his three older brothers, Barry, Maurice and Robin, who made up the Bee Gees. Aside from Robin, who had a beautiful voice, Andy was the best singer of the brothers, and as a solo act, he had huge hits. But he remained insecure about his abilities, especially as his brother Barry wrote or co-wrote his most famous songs: “I Just Want to Be Your Everything,” “(Love Is) Thicker Than Water” and “Shadow Dancing.”

When disco faded, so did the Bee Gees, and so did Andy Gibb’s career. But he was a genial presence as a co-host on the TV series “Solid Gold” in the early 1980s and only started becoming a tabloid embarrassment when his drug habit became impossible to conceal. But he was sober and enthusiastic about attempting a comeback at the time of his death.

I asked Hild what surprised him over the course of his research. “I was really struck by how well-liked he was by just about everyone I interviewed,” says Hild. “Everyone said how sweet he was, what a big, kind heart he had.”

Perhaps that accounts for the continued interest in him, despite his having had only a few brief years at the top some 40 years ago. “I knew he still had fans,” says Hild, “but his fan base is bigger than I expected.”

And Gibb may soon be picking up new fans. Hild’s book has been optioned by Groundbreaking Productions, which has already announced its intention to make a biopic about Gibb called “Shadow Dancing.”

Gibb certainly had a story — fame, a doomed love affair with actress Victoria Principal, a massive drug habit, the promise of recovery, followed by a tragically early death. Excellent movies have been made from lesser material than this.

Arrow Through the Heart: The Biography of Andy Gibb
By Matthew Hild
(BearManor Media; 260 pages; $25)