Hollywood Wives , written by Jackie Collins, was the sixth book I read in my Summer of Guilty Pleasure reads. Published in 1983, it was the 50 Shades of its day; a dirty, scandalous book that everyone read, but only behind closed doors.
It reminded me of the TV show, Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous , which aired in the 80s. Robin Leach would tour the world in search of millionaires who allowed camera crews into their mansions. It was hard not to fall under the spell. Wealthy people can seem so much better, so much worthier, especially when you’re watching them while lying on a shag carpet.
Now that I’m older, my infatuation with celebrities has diminished and it’s hard to empathize with wealthy people, which doesn’t always make them good book characters, even when you throw a serial killer into the mix – as Collins does. In the end, genre books like Hollywood Wives – and 50 Shades – seem to be more about filling a void in readers than delivering a story. Maybe there's a piece of shag in all of us.