Sugarbabe
by Holly Hill
Random House, HK$215
Holly Hill, fortysomething part-time prostitute and author of the much-hyped Sugarbabe, billed as The Controversial Real Story of a Woman in Search of a Sugar Daddy, is, we are repeatedly told, 'lucky enough to be considered darned attractive'. She has 'big, puffy Angelina Jolie lips on an equally big mouth' ('my big fat lips are perfect for facials,' she gracefully informs one client).
Hill's egregiously lurid self-descriptions create expectations of an urban Salome seducing readers with her seven veils. But the only vaporous aspect of Hill is her intellect. Her portrait - featured on the Random Australia website against the phallic backdrop of what looks like the Elan apartment block in Sydney's King's Cross - reveals a homely sort with a cleavage like two uncooked chicken fillets shaken loose from their tray.
'Controversial' only in its diabolical idiocy, this memoir's narrative is straightforward: a woman with low self-esteem and promiscuous-father issues seeks a father figure to make her a prostitute and thus validate her low self-esteem.