In anticipation of another blog project I’ve been toying around with, I’ve started read ‘chick lit’. It’s a safe bet that this heady blend of onanism/introspection and melodrama is up my alley, since I spend a good deal of my own personal time wallowing in my own onanistic, introspective melodrama. Hell, one of my trusted cabal of readers has even described the novella that I’m working on now as ‘chick lit’, so there you go.
It’s not like I’ve never read the genre before. My GoodReads shelves are testament to the fact that I have dipped my toe into that pond and found the water warm and inviting. And I do count Nick Hornby as one of my favorite authors.
I made a conscious effort to stay away from the Helen Fieldings and the Sophie Kinsellas at first, so I picked Heather McElhatton’s Jennifer Johnson Is Sick Of Being Single as patient zero of my experiment. In retrospect, I should have gone with one of those Shopaholic books. Maybe Emily Giffin, whose covers are always very soothing.
I did not like JJiSoBS very much. It’s a dark comedy about the difference between need and want that has sharp, funny writing and an intriguingly broken protagonist. Those are the good things. Unfortunately for all her sass and quirk, Jennifer Johnson is also a cruel, selfish and terrible woman who has no redemption and no real sense of just how mean and small she is (and therefore no remorse for her casually horrible actions). The rest of the cast is so one-note as to barely register. If I’m going to give McElhatton the benefit of the doubt, this is because we’re seeing the world through Jen’s POV and she views everybody other than her as un-nuanced and one-note; however, this is one of those instances where I may grok what an author is doing but still don’t like it.
So, readers, what should I move on to next? Who’s your favorite chick lit author?
{ 3 comments… read them below or add one }
You certainly cannot pass up Helen Fielding – Bridget Jones is the epitome of a real woman. It’s brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
As a singleton myself, I am not even embarassed to say I’ve read this book at least 15 times. Immediately followed by the second book.
(I will not, however, admit how many times I’ve seen the movie – or how many bottles of wine have been put in the recycling bin because of said viewing. It would be unladylike.)
I’ll have to pick up a copy of Bridget Jones’ Diary, then.
I can’t believe I just typed that.
I like: Jennifer Weiner, Megan McCafferty, Pamela Ribon’s “Why Girls Are Weird,” Caren Lissner’s “Carrie Pilby,” Caprice Crane’s “Stupid and Contagious.” Not all considered as “chick litty” as, say, Sophie Kinsella, but there was a point where every book with a 20s/30s female protagonist was shoved under that rubric.