W ith the passing of Judith Krantz in June, it’s possible that the sun has set on the kingdom of which she was one of the queens – that of the bonkbuster novel.

The bonkbuster was born in the 1980s, which is appropriate; these brick-sized books celebrated what many might think of as the worst excesses of the decade – conspicuous wealth; rich, powerful people untroubled by conscience or guilt; fast cars, faster planes and luxury yachts; exotic locales that were the exclusive playgrounds of the elite and entitled.