The fun of Paris Hilton is in the guilty pleasure we take in laughing at her. So a novel that shamelessly rips off Ms. Hilton's cluelessly priviliged lifestyle, right down to her geographical name, would work best if it was a laugh out loud satire. Unfortunately, The Perils Of Sisterhood is not. It plods predictibly along through a weak plot in which London and Madrid La Mira, twin sisters and heiresses to billions, are cut off from their annual $850,000 checks by their grandmother, who decides that they need to learn the value of money. We get the obligatory scenes of the dim witted siblings messing up every attempt to win back their grandmother's favor by doing good for others (killing endangered sea turtles, being grossed out by the needy in a soup kitchen, being fired from volunteer work building houses for the homeless after wondering aloud where the pool is going to go) until finally, both find their true calling - London as a chef, and Madrid as a matchmaker - which makes them better people and clearly deserving of their fortunes.
Not only is The Perils Of Sisterhood not funny, it borders on offensive with over the top stereotypes of gays, blacks, and <gasp> unattractive people. Madrid's gay friends shriek, giggle and sashay their way through every scene they're in, every black character talks like an episode of Amos 'n Andy, and the heavyset woman who is looking for love is loud, crass, and uneducated. I almost put the book down in disgust more than once without finishing it. I should have, since it never did redeem itself. Don't waste your time.