A stunning Vassar graduate, a stunning School of Hard Knocks graduate, a handsome Stanford graduate, and a stunning gay man climb to the heights of Las Vegas and sink to the depths of Hollywood—coupling, snorting coke, and spouting clichÇs along the way. Does it sound astonishingly like superbestselling dead authoress Jacqueline Susann? It's supposed to. The deal here is that author French is not the author, he's just the midwife, having allegedly programmed his computer to write about our times just the way Susann would if she had not, after paving the way for the Collins sisters, prematurely slipped away to the big heart-shaped bathtub in the sky. And goodness knows French has done a fabulous job, almost perfectly capturing glamorous Jackie's turgid but E-Z reading prose style and ultrareliable mix of sex, glitz, dope 'n' despair in the story of Las Vegas roommates Lisa, Carol, Leon, and Carol's boyfriend Taylor and their glamorous but empty lives as showgirl-turned-superstar, divorcÇe-turned-casino manager, gay- turned-straight, and gambler-turned-corporate manipulator in the city that never turns off the lights. One wonders, though, if French's tale spinning PC will do as well on the talkshows as Jackie did. The computer weenies have been trying to tell us for years, garbage in—garbage out.
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