Its sad to hear that Our Joanie's sister has died, for here was a tremendously talented writer who relied on her own talent as opposed to attacking her peers in the hope of getting them to retaliate and therefore offer free publicity for their worthless kitty-litter.
I never met Jackie, but I did run into Babs once--at my publisher's office some years ago when she had already started to decompose. I kid you not, there was a whiff in the air which reminded me of my Aunt Amy's two passions: Vim and smelling-salts. As always she was dressed in pink--a short, sleeveless dress under which she wore around twenty underskirts, giving her the appearance of a bucolic crinoline doll. She looked like Nancy Sphinctergritzel without the tattoos, and because she was unable to sit down had to be stood upright in the tiny lift, whilst her assistant had to rush up the stairs and catch her at the other end. When she was finally plonked on to the sofa, her legs shot up in the air, and I recall the person with me observing how hairy her armpits were, until we realised that she was clutching two small dogs.
I've just watched Babs attempting to tear a strip off Jackie on Wogan, and Jackie gently chiding this snooty old crone in her very polite English way that there is plenty of room for her books, and for Babs' chastity tomes. You see, Jackie did not have to attack her peers--with an endless succession of Blogs, fake reviews, phoney names and invented lawsuits which would have resulted in her being totally ignored by the media--in an attempt to draw attention to herself. She retained her dignity and kept her mouth shut, and allowed her talent to sell her books.