Who reads Jackie Collins?
8 Dec 2012 12:00 AM GMT
A ruthless Russian oligarch Aleksandr Kasianenko and his coke-snorting black supermodel mistress plan a yacht trip. Invited are the who’s who from the worlds of power and glamour. A star black footballer and his overreaching Caucasian wife. An aging and philandering Hollywood star and his needy, greedy mistress. A gay Latin singing sensation and his scheming English boyfriend. A famous freelance journalist who wants to save the world and his Asian female friend who is beautiful, bisexual and has similar dreams. A senator without a moral core and White House ambitions and his beautiful wife who wants out.
On the 400-foot-superyacht, this is meant to be a journey of a lifetime. But fate and fetish have other plans.
This is the basic storyline of The Power Trip. And that is all there is to the book. Because like all Jackie Collins books before this and all Jackie Collins books after this, the storyline will be basic. Basic. Base. Because Collins only writes about the high and the haughty. And the higher they are the baser the instincts she would have you believe. No need to create powerful conflicts or broken narratives. In her own words this is how it is: men are cheaters. Women are not to be trusted. And most people are dumb. Simple. Who is Philip Roth?
I would have been apologetic for gorging on something like this. But the Forbes 2012 power list is out and believe it or turn socialist, in this planet of 7.1 billion only 71 matter. Who would not want to know what these guys do with their money and power. Not on boardrooms and podiums, but between satin sheets on super luxury yachts. And who better to tell you that than ‘Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust’. It’s been said of her that there have been many imitators, but only Collins can tell you what high life is all about. ‘From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of power brokers’, Collins writes the real truth from the inside looking out.
Collins draws her characters the way tabloids describe such men and women.
So Aleksandr is ‘not just a super-rich businessman, but tough and rugged with a steely reserve. His dark eyes were deeper than a glacier...his touch strong and manly. As for his equipment—perfection. Long and thick and solid.’
The Hollywood star Cliff Baxter is ‘the man with the George Clooney charm, Jack Nicholson acting talent, and irresistible good looks. Mister Movie Star. No mistake about that. Mister—I get my ass kissed every time I fart. Mister—Everyone wants to be my friend. Mister—Even when I am full of shit, you’re still gonna love me.’
The women. They are desirable enough to push the limits of your fantasy. ‘Binaca (the supermodel) was of mixed race—her mother was Cuban, her father black. There was no doubt that Binaca inherited the best of her parent’s looks. Tall, lean and agile with coffee-coloured skin, fine features, full natural lips, piercing green eyes and waist-length glossy black hair, Binaca captivated both men and women.’
And the sex? The sex is dirty—’True to his promise the night before, Aleksandr had satisfied Binaca until she’d begged him to stop. Aleksandr could do more with his tongue than most men could do with a seven-inch erection.’
Who needs a storyline after this! But a few pages down, the book grabs you with more than just this. Would the warring couples go back home happy? Would the poor wife manage to escape from the clutches of the pervert politician. Would Aleksandr outwit the drug king who seeks revenge for his brother’s death?
The Power Trip is an airport read. Or a bedroom one. Read this for fun. Bad books can be good mood-lifters. Plus you get a peep into the bedroom manners of people who run the world.
‘If anything, my characters are toned down. The truth is much more bizarre!’ Collins says. Really, now!
On the 400-foot-superyacht, this is meant to be a journey of a lifetime. But fate and fetish have other plans.
This is the basic storyline of The Power Trip. And that is all there is to the book. Because like all Jackie Collins books before this and all Jackie Collins books after this, the storyline will be basic. Basic. Base. Because Collins only writes about the high and the haughty. And the higher they are the baser the instincts she would have you believe. No need to create powerful conflicts or broken narratives. In her own words this is how it is: men are cheaters. Women are not to be trusted. And most people are dumb. Simple. Who is Philip Roth?
I would have been apologetic for gorging on something like this. But the Forbes 2012 power list is out and believe it or turn socialist, in this planet of 7.1 billion only 71 matter. Who would not want to know what these guys do with their money and power. Not on boardrooms and podiums, but between satin sheets on super luxury yachts. And who better to tell you that than ‘Hollywood’s own Marcel Proust’. It’s been said of her that there have been many imitators, but only Collins can tell you what high life is all about. ‘From Beverly Hills bedrooms to a raunchy prowl along the streets of Hollywood; from glittering rock parties and concerts to stretch limos and the mansions of power brokers’, Collins writes the real truth from the inside looking out.
Collins draws her characters the way tabloids describe such men and women.
So Aleksandr is ‘not just a super-rich businessman, but tough and rugged with a steely reserve. His dark eyes were deeper than a glacier...his touch strong and manly. As for his equipment—perfection. Long and thick and solid.’
The Hollywood star Cliff Baxter is ‘the man with the George Clooney charm, Jack Nicholson acting talent, and irresistible good looks. Mister Movie Star. No mistake about that. Mister—I get my ass kissed every time I fart. Mister—Everyone wants to be my friend. Mister—Even when I am full of shit, you’re still gonna love me.’
The women. They are desirable enough to push the limits of your fantasy. ‘Binaca (the supermodel) was of mixed race—her mother was Cuban, her father black. There was no doubt that Binaca inherited the best of her parent’s looks. Tall, lean and agile with coffee-coloured skin, fine features, full natural lips, piercing green eyes and waist-length glossy black hair, Binaca captivated both men and women.’
And the sex? The sex is dirty—’True to his promise the night before, Aleksandr had satisfied Binaca until she’d begged him to stop. Aleksandr could do more with his tongue than most men could do with a seven-inch erection.’
Who needs a storyline after this! But a few pages down, the book grabs you with more than just this. Would the warring couples go back home happy? Would the poor wife manage to escape from the clutches of the pervert politician. Would Aleksandr outwit the drug king who seeks revenge for his brother’s death?
The Power Trip is an airport read. Or a bedroom one. Read this for fun. Bad books can be good mood-lifters. Plus you get a peep into the bedroom manners of people who run the world.
‘If anything, my characters are toned down. The truth is much more bizarre!’ Collins says. Really, now!
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