Phil: I like Carol Kirkwood. She’s the nice weatherlady on BBC Breakfast. Always seems cheery, even when giving us bad news. So, when I find she’s written a novel, and it’s in the Parker reading pile, I am worried.
Let’s be honest, I’ve not had the greatest success with celebrity novels. They tend (IMHO) to suffer from insufficient editing. Plotlines that get the chop in anything written by what Jennifer Lopez would term “a civilian” make it to the page because the publisher knows only the name on the cover matters.
My worries aren’t eased by reading a Radio Times interview where Carol admits “I didn’t ever think I would be able to write a novel is the honest truth,” she says. “I was approached about writing a book by a publishing agent. I met with him and he said, ‘Would you like to do it? Do you think you can do it?’ and I said, ‘Well, I don’t know because I’ve never tried.’” – basically, a publisher spotted the chance to make some money by slapping the name of someone popular on the cover. Carol had no burning desire to write, but by dint of being famous was given a publishing deal anyway.
Yes I am jealous.
So, the book – it’s rubbish isn’t it?
No. It’s not. Sorry to disappoint you dear reader.
The plot revolves around actress Shauna Jackson. Early in her life, she enjoyed a magical visit to Greece, complete with some romance with the heir to a multinational shipping empire who for no reason I assumed looked like a young George Michael. Later, she has joined the Hollywood A-List, gets cheated on by her husband who promptly dies, and eventually heads back to Greece.
This is not inciteful. It’s not “proper” literature. What it is, is something to read on the sunlonger. And that job it does very well indeed.
As you bake in the sun, your brain won’t be too challenged, even the big twist is pretty easy to spot as it hoves into view. This doesn’t matter. We like Shauna. We like everyone in fact. Even the cheating husband has a good side – Carol doesn’t really do nasty. There are endless chick-lit style product mentions, most of which were fashion brands and lost on me, but it doesn’t matter.
It’s easy to be snobbish about books like this, but if you don’t like them, don’t read them. The story flows well enough and is enjoyable. If your reading tastes requires your brain to hurt after a few pages, then don’t buy books by famous people. And certainly not the nice lady who does the weather.