Chances was exactly the right book at the right time for me. I’d been working very hard in June and July, teaching art history to summer school students, and as rewarding as that was, I needed a break. Happily, the next weekend was sunny and I was able to spend a lot of it out in the garden with my pink yoga mat (same shade as the book cover, incidentally), a pillow, and this book.
Chances starts in 1977, as crime boss Gino Santangelo is on his way back to New York after a period of exile. Daughter Lucky, who has been running the show in his absence, isn’t thrilled and a power struggle seems to be in the offing. Meanwhile, socialite Carrie is on her way to Harlem in response to a mysterious message which she thinks relates to the dark secrets in her past. The date is Wednesday, July 13th. Ring any bells? Not for me, so the blackout came as a surprise, throwing the characters’ lives into chaos.
The 1977 storyline is intertwined with the backstories, told in flashback, of Gino and Carrie, and finally all three strands come together – with a twist. I enjoyed all three narratives, but got especially absorbed in the story of Carrie, a young black girl sold into prostitution in the 1920s by her abusive family. At fourteen, released from prison, she returns to her profession, but, determined to improve herself, approaches Whitejack, who pimps for the most successful black madam in Harlem.
‘S’cuse me, mister,’ she said boldly. ‘I’m lookin’ for a ride.’
His eyes flicked over her. A lazy head-to-toe inspection. Twice over just in case he missed something the first time.
‘You best look elsewhere, honey,’ he drawled, totally disinterested.
‘I just turned sweet sixteen last week,’ she spoke quickly, ‘sweet, black, hot, an’ young, just the way those old ofays like ‘em. I worked me a while at Florence Williams’, I ain’t no amateur.’
‘You ain’t no hot stuff either.’
‘How about a chance?’ she wheedled drawing her hands down her body. ‘Dressed up an’ fattened up you got a real winner. How ’bout givin’ me a try?’
‘Me and Madam Mae are into class, little girl. Class. Go shake it elsewhere.’
She glared at him, the wheedling smile leaving her face in a flash. The hate she had learned on the island welled up inside her and she wanted to strike out. But she didn’t. She shrugged, turned to go.
He stopped her with a hand on her arm. ‘You want a job as a maid?’
She shook his hand off and kept walking. A maid. That was a real laugh. There was no going back for Carrie.
‘You!’ He was coming after her now.
She stopped, and he moved alongside her. She sensed he was interested at last.
‘You really work at Florence Williams’ place?’
‘Check it out. Me, a girl called Billie, two white chicks.’
‘Hmmm…’ He blew a thin trickle of smoke in her face. ‘You wanna take a chance on Madam Mae likin’ you?’
She knew when to be bold. ‘You like me, then she’s gonna like me. Everyone knows that’s the way the story goes.’
He smiled. ‘So smart.’
She smiled back, although the smile never reached her eyes, ‘And so young.’
Gino, brought up by a series of foster parents, comes from a similarly bleak background. He chooses a criminal career because it offers scope for his ambitions, which his legitimate job as a mechanic doesn’t. His early jobs as a getaway driver are risky, but so is working under cars: a friend is nearly killed when the jack holding up the Cadillac he is working on collapses. At twenty Gino is building a bootleg empire. At forty, wealthy, feared and respected, he is building Las Vegas. But he has to pay a terrible price for his success, and in more than one way.
His daughter, Lucky, is probably Jackie Collins’s best-known character. Ms. Collins herself has said:
Lucky is the woman I’d like to be and I think a lot of women felt the same way. I’ve had a whole generation of women tell me that if they’ve broken up with their boyfriend and they’re lying on the floor in the bathroom crying, they’ll think, “What would Lucky do?” As a result they’ve stood up and got their lives together. That’s great, right? She’s really been an inspiration to me. I feel like I’ve helped a lot of people through that character.
Read the rest at Vice Magazine: AN INTERVIEW WITH JACKIE COLLINS WHICH WE FORGOT TO POST – Viceland Today
This older cover makes Lucky look like a more upmarket version of Madonna’s character in Desperately Seeking Susan. Lucky, although she lives in a far more privileged world, has a lot of Susan’s toughness, outspokenness and independence. She’s very much a product of second-wave feminism. Trapped in an elevator during the blackout with Carrie’s son Stephen, she corrects him when he addresses her as Miss: it’s Miz. Later, at his apartment (after a night spent trapped in the lift), when he suggests she could make them breakfast, she explains that she can’t cook.
‘Not even eggs?’
She shrugged vaguely. ‘I guess I don’t have that womanly touch in the kitchen. I’ve just got to look at uncooked food and it turns to – ‘
‘Don’t tell me.’
Anyone further from the insecure, self-deprecating, slip-dress-wearing, barefoot, cupcake-baking (but burning the cakes, of course, because she’s such a ditz) heroine prancing across the pastel covers of chicklit from here to eternity cannot be imagined. Thank God. I think any woman lying on her bathroom floor in tears for whatever reason could do a lot worse than ask herself, ‘What would Lucky do?’ (I wouldn’t recommend using this method for a business problem, though: Lucky’s business solutions are effective, but tend not to be legal).
The Sunday Express apparently thought that this was
an outrageously uninhibited saga of sex and ambition.
The Sun thought the book
should be read under a cold shower.
But then, the Sun thinks everything should be read under a cold shower. I found that while the book didn’t skimp on either sex or violence, these scenes were never gratuitous. They are there to tell the story. And it’s a great story. Not perfect: I had to suspend disbelief about Gino masterminding a criminal empire while staying clear of both prostitution and narcotics, and I would have liked more detail to convince me of Carrie’s transformation from call girl to society wife – I think it could be done, but not without a major crash course in speech, etiquette, fashion and a lot else.
Bottom line: Chances is an exhilarating rags-to-riches rollercoaster. I’m looking forward to reading the sequels.
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I bought my own copy of Chances.
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Tags: chances, jackie collins, lucky santangelo
Love the Madonna shot. I don’t know if this is the book for me, not fond of contemporaries, even older ones
I usually loathe the pastel-cover type contemporary fiction, but I love glitzy blockbusters – although I haven’t found any written in the past few years which are as compelling as this. A lot of this is technically historical fiction as the story starts in the 1920s but it’s really about the characters rather than the period detail, so probably not your cup of tea.
Okay, I have got to get this book. It definitely sounds like my kind of party. intrigue, crime, past secrets, power struggles… I can’t get enough of it. Thanks for such a great recommendation, Moppet. It’ll probably take me time, of course – I’ve just started college, and I have a few books on my desk now, but I’ll get to it if I have to employ Lucky’s solutions.
If you had your troubles now (I assume you don’t to discuss them, since you took down the post that mentioned them), would you think of Lucky? Perhaps a club should be started – you already have a slogan – WWLD?
Best of luck with your studies BTW.
I remember having such fun reading this series when I was younger. Big, bold, glamourous, improbable, sexy and oh so much fun!
I think you just about summed it up, Marg.
I meant to add violent as well, but I pressed enter too quickly! lol
I was a huge fan of this book. I started reading Jackie Collins when I was in high school and all of her books were terribly naughty. lol. Collins was a huge influence on my second unpublished novel.
http://awomanreading.wordpress.com
Sounds juicy! Hope you do publish a Collins-esque glitzy blockbuster someday!
Gosh, I did love this book! I’d forgotten how much until I read this, lol. Jackie Collins is one of my guilty pleasures.