Book Review – The St. Tropez Lonely Hearts Club

If you had to turn a trashy 80s TV miniseries into a novel, you’d probably end up with The St. Tropez Lonely Hearts Club. Filled with over the top characters – or should that be caricatures? – including a gigolo, contessa, a Russian oligarch – and an unbelievable plot, it’s not a novel to be taken seriously. Luckily, it doesn’t ask you to take it seriously.

Joan Collins, a veteran of the glitzy Dynasty, hasn’t forgotten what makes for a good soap opera – and she dishes out lashings of sex, viperous bitchiness, and Eurotrash glamour. The setting, an exclusive stretch of party paradise in the South of France, gives the reader a vicarious glimpse into the lives of the rich and decadent. The young female detective, Gabrielle, is our moral centre among the outrageous cast of characters – and she’s a likeable character.

This is a frothy read if you want to escape the winter blues and idle away some time on a beach.