Death Of An Icon. It sounds like the title of one of Jackie Collins’ many brilliant blockbusters. It could be a story of glamour, Hollywood decadence, riches, men and an untimely death shocking the world. But sadly this is no work of fiction, it’s the horrible, heartbreaking fact that best selling authoress Jackie Collins has died at the age of 77 after succumbing to the nightmare of breast cancer. A lady who has sold over 500 million books worldwide, been translated into countless languages and amassed 30 New York Times Bestsellers. A true star, and one who can tragically no longer shine in person. That makes me, along with millions of other fans worldwide, a very sad person.
Jackie Collins was the author, above all others, who has constantly kept me entertained for nearly four decades. Her stories of the rich and the famous, their glamour-dipped lives and their vulnerabilities were the first books I ever read in my adult life (well, make that curious pre-teenager….there was no way I was waiting any longer than need be to read one of Jackie’s books). My mother had read one and I remember picking it up from her bedside table and reading the cover lines and thinking it sounded beyond fabulous. I must have been about 12 to be honest and the book was actually Jackie’s first ever novel, the ground breaking The World Is Full Of Married Men, a novel set in the swinging sixties and full of sensational scandal. Sex, sin and a man getting actually what he deserved – his come-uppance for being a cheating swine. Looking back now, decades on of course, we can all see how this kind of book just didn’t exist at the time, and reading it myself back then I had no idea about the double standards it portrayed or the fact that it was probably one of the first ever books where women end up on top (no pun intended). I just found it wondrously rich, decadent, salacious, scandalous and a read that I had to turn the pages so quick for that my fingertips began to burn. I loved it and so began my own tremendous affair – one which was to last me for the next 35 years (and for many years to come as I reread) – an affair with Jackie’s skilful writing.
Fast forward a few years and I had devoured as many Jackie novels as possible as well as managing to watch such cinematic glories at The Bitch and The Stud, starring Jackie’s very own sister, Joan. Her characters were enticing, dangerous, sexy and totally magnetic. Juicier adventures could not be found. I learnt more about sex from Jackie’s books than I ever could from a biology lesson at school cutting up worms or whatever it was we were supposed to be dissecting. And I learnt more about human emotions too. Jackie’s books had heart and soul. Some people have banded the critique that Jackie’s books are simply erotica. That, say I, is a lie as big as the diamond rings decorating the fingers of her leading ladies. Yes, there is sex – isn’t that an essential (and hugely enjoyable) part of life – but woven into Jackie’s majestic stories were betrayal, murder, abuse, devastation – dark horrors that kept readers enthralled and made the novels more than just some kind of sexual titillation. The women in Jackie’s world were strong, forceful, opinionated and independent. But they nearly all housed a core of gold and had layered vulnerabilities that would make them real, aspirational and heroic (is ‘sheroic’ a word, if so, then that they indeed were!). Life would throw them the dirtiest of dealings but yet they would rise, phoenix-like, to gain victory and self-worth. If that isn’t a strong role-model for feminism, women’s rights and equality of the sexes then I don’t know what is. And all of this at a time when the memory of women being seen and not heard was not that distant a memory and one that still definitely lingered.
I have been a fan of Jackie’s on two levels. One as a reader, loving her beautifully crafted tales, but secondly as an aspiring novelist. People know that I now too write ‘Jackie’ style books, ‘bonkbusters’ they seem to call them (a phrase that Jackie hated). When I started writing my first, Trinity, it was Jackie’s books that inspired me and they still do to this day. I too wanted to create a world of escapism where readers would want to immerse themselves in a tapestry of love, lust, glamour, greed and glory, all led by a host of fabulous women.
I managed to finally meet Jackie, earlier this month, a mere 11 days before her death, at an An Evening With Jackie Collins event in London. Little did those fans gathered know that it would be Jackie’s final curtain call. She looked nothing short of Hollywood-glamorous and had the audience in stitches with her tales of LA life and the access-all-areas secrets she had seen over the years. Not that she ever gave details, no, she saved those, albeit disguised, for the books. She talked of books to come, of potential memoirs and her love of a Tinseltown party. She was captivating to the extreme and the epitome of joie de vivre. Nobody knew that she was hiding the battle we now sadly know she had spent the last six and a half years living with, the dreaded cancer. A battle that was to sadly end her life just a few short days later. She was eloquent, beautiful, stylish and smiling from ear to ear. She was strong and obviously at peace with what she must have known was her inevitable fate. As strong as one of her very own characters. A women who faced what life threw at her and would not let it affect her enjoyment. A woman who would hold her head up high and fight for what she believed in and wanted. Lucky Santangelo would be proud.
I count my blessings to have met Jackie, a truly remarkable talent, but I am also thankful that I can savour her words for forever and a day. Her legacy will live on through her writing, through her characters and through the action that was jam-packed, cover to cover, inside each and every one of her fabulous reads. No doubt she will be in heaven right now taking notes of what the so-called ‘angels’ are up to so that she can squeeze it into a future nerve-tingling, sin-sational read.
RIP Jackie Collins, the world will be a less fabulous place without you. You were truly one of a kind.
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