Jackie Collins will always be one of those writers who has a
special place in my heart, because I discovered her at exactly the right age.
I read Chances (stolen
from my mother’s bookshelf, of course – like me, she has a particular fondness
for a well-executed potboiler) when I was about 13 and reading ‘adult’ books
for the first time. Among my favourites were
Jilly Cooper, JD Salinger, John Wyndham and, um, Bret Easton-Ellis (I had
somehow procured a copy of Less Than Zero
under false pretences). Chances quickly joined my list of favourites.
It was unimaginably exciting.
I’m not saying she was Tolstoy, but I think Jackie Collins
was a very misunderstood writer. Even
the articles in the wake of her death have been saying things like ‘a sad loss
to the romance novel world’. Jackie
Collins never wrote a romance novel in her life. I like to think she would be appalled by the very suggestion.
There was sex, but there was mostly crime, intrigue, glamour
and ridiculous drama. Her greatest
inspiration was The Godfather, and it
shows. Chances is basically a gangster novel with a bit of extra sex and
glamour (which makes it extra fun).
Honestly, if you love a classic gangster novel, read the Santangelo
series. Starting with Chances, then Lucky, and then Lady Boss and
beyond. The Santangelos are one of the
great crime families and Lucky is one of my all-time favourite heroines. She’s ‘kickass’, as Jackie herself was wont to say.
In small tribute to kickass Jackie, I will be re-reading the
Santangelo series in its entirety, for the first time since my teenage years.
I was genuinely sad to hear of her death. She wasn’t that old, at 77 – but because she
looked so bloody great for her age, it felt like the death of someone much
younger. Of course, we are all so
familiar with her family that I immediately thought ‘oh, poor Joan’, as if I
actually knew them. There was something
admirably old-school about the way she kept her illness quiet, completing her
book tour and all media commitments only days before she died.
She was one of those women who seemed so indestructible. She was staunch. Women like her seem as if they will go on forever. I wish they could.
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