CHICK LIT

CHICK LIT Appeared in the Record Review column, "My Reading Life" in March, 2004

Works mentioned in this piece: Frost in May, Red Pottage, Good Behavior, In A Summer Season, The Beth Book, Return of the Soldier, Durable Goods, Balkan Trilogy, Levant Trilogy, Human Croquet, Lost Garden, In Country, Bridget Jones's Diary, Devil Wears Prada, I Don't Know How She Does It, Nanny Diaries, Good In Bed, In Her Shoes, Bet Me.



In a recent interview, the young Irish writer, Cecilia Ahern, said, “I didn't know what chick lit was, I thought people were calling me a chick. I don't quite understand it. I don't know who made up the term, it must have been a man."

I agree with Ahern about who probably originated the term, and confess to using it sometimes when I refer to a certain kind of frothy contemporary fiction that appeals mainly to women, including me. Sometimes. In these books, female characters tend to be single, twenty-five year old urbanites running around in four-inch Manolos with nothing going wrong in their lives a birdbath Bellini won’t fix.

But wait. What about Jane Austen? She wrote novels about women and about their everyday tribulations. We know from Jane Austen, down to the farthing the yearly income and expenses of many of her characters. We know what a new hat cost. We also know about a young woman’s romantic prospects and about her internal life. We understand her little worries, her foibles, her machinations. We follow her sympathetically to the end, when she usually gets the man, if not always the right one.

What about the wonderful novels by female writers in the “Virago Modern Classic” paperback republications from Penguin and Dial issued in the 1970’s and 1980’s? (Virago: a bold, shrewish woman) This collection brought us delicious out-of-print or overlooked titles by 20th Century female writers such as Antonia White, ("Frost in May"); Mary Cholmondeley, ("Red Pottage"); Molly Keane, ("Good Behavior"); Elizabeth Taylor, ("In A Summer Season"); Sarah Grand, ("The Beth Book"); and Rebecca West, ("The Return of the Soldier").

I’ve enjoyed novels by many contemporary women writers, including Elizabeth Berg, ("Durable Goods"); Olivia Manning, ("The Balkan Trilogy" and "The Levant Trilogy"); Kate Atkinson, ("Human Croquet"); Helen Humphreys, ("The Lost Garden"); and Bobbie Ann Mason ("In Country") who write about women’s lives. Although all of these books are by women and usually for women, I can’t say that any should be labeled “Chick Lit” because the writing is too fine and the books have endured long beyond summer vacation.

Somewhere in between Jacqueline Susann and Candace Bushnell, the “Chick Lit” label has emerged, at best typified by Helen Fielding’s wildly successful "Bridget Jones’s Diary," (1998). Bridget Jones is a joyous book and one reviewer observes it “struck a chord with all kinds of readers revealing the lighter side of despair, self-doubt, and obsession.”

At its worst, the chick lit genre is represented by Lauren Weisberger’s "The Devil Wears Prada," (Doubleday, 2003). Former fashion assistant Weisberger’s writing was called “inept and ungrammatical,” by one reviewer. Many cuts above Prada are "I Don’t Know How She Does It," a debut novel by Allison Pearson (Knopf, 2003) and "The Nanny Diaries" by Emma McLaughlin and Nicola Kraus (St. Martin’s, 2003). Both these novels, although they fall into the “chick lit” category, are bright, witty and smart.

In 2001, Jennifer Weiner’s "Good In Bed" (Pocket Books) got decent reviews and appeared on the New York Times bestseller list. HBO has optioned rights to make the novel into a series. Look for "In Her Shoes," Weiner’s 2002 story about two sisters who are total opposites. Weiner’s dog, Nifkin, who has a major role in "Good In Bed," can be seen on Weiner’s website.

Coming soon will be "Bergdorf Blondes" by Plum Sykes (Miramax, April) about an English “Champagne-bubble” cutie, just arrived on the turf of Park Avenue trust-fund, botoxed femmes. Another St. Martin’s writer, Jennifer Crusie, has a new novel, "Bet Me," which the publisher describes as “about long shots, risk management, true love, and great shoes.” We’ll see about these two.

Hanne Blank, writing in the September, 2003, Baltimore “Citipaper,” says, “Average readers, perhaps influenced by the jelly-bean-colored covers, tend to assume that the average Chick Lit book is the prose equivalent of a Happy Meal.” This is funny and generally, but not always, true -- and like most catchall categories, the range of quality within it is so broad it goes from really cheesy to interesting and occasionally important.

Unfair though it may be, the “Chick Lit” label has come to signify trashy books read only by women and that’s insulting not only to the writers but also to the minds and literary tastes of the people who buy and read their work.
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Elinore Standard is the co-editor, with Laura Furman, of "Bookworms: Great Writers and Readers Celebrate Reading." (NY: Carroll & Graf, 1997.)