You wanted the best, you got the best, in the form of the trashiest trash novel we have seen yet, Jackie Collins’ Hollywood Wives. Hard sex? Check. Sprawling set of (unlikeable) characters? Check. Spaghetti-like plot that’s somehow simultaneously insultingly simple and somewhat difficult to keep track of? Check! And then we get to the third chapter and things really pop off.
The first book we’ve read that includes a villain sneering an actual playground taunt (“that’s for me to know and you to find out” is an actual line of dialogue in this one, people)+ takes us new places in real sleaze and ushers in a new, tawdry age of the podcast, a leopard-print age, an age where NaNoWriMo-level music references somehow don’t keep a novel from selling millions of copies, but, regrettably, also an age where every person is an ethnic stereotype and nobody is at all pleasant to be around.
+But, we hope, not the last.
We hope you think this one is worth the wait. We sure think it’s worth it’s weight in gold — Golden GLOBES that is!