One of my email loops tipped me off to this interesting post on chick lit by Jacquelyn Mitchard, of The Deep End of the Ocean and Oprah’s Book Club fame. Brava, Ms. Mitchard, for getting the point.
In precis, more and more people, writers and pundits included, are beginning to refer to books written by women about female characters “chick lit.” As a writer of chick lit of the classic sort (think Bridget Jones), I have never had a problem with the moniker. But when strong books by women are dismissed out of hand as “chick lit,” aka light and fluffy and of little nutritional value, because the author in question happens to have functional breasts, while men who write emotional books exploring traditional women’s territory (yes, Nicholas Sparks, I’m talking about you) are lauded as being so sensitive and emotional, I get a bit peeved.
Seems that women’s rights and all that are fine, but when it comes down to literary taste, well, you little ladies just ought to scuttle off to the parlor and chat about your insignificant concerns while we menfolks solve the world’s problems in the smoking room with our superior masculinity and all.
Whatever. Take a peek at world affairs these days and ask yourself whether the menfolks are doing a bang-up job at running things. Take your time. Umm-hmm. I thought so.
Women can write. Well, I might add. Scoffing at female authors who write women-driven stories (that includes romance novels) does nothing but confirm your own narrow-mindedness. I know plenty of women who read horror and true crime and espionage novels. They’re not afraid to explore. But try offering a well-written romance to a man and watch them leap out of the way like cooties have made a comeback.
Seems to me the smoking-room crowd could learn something from all this “chick lit.” Hell, they might even figure out some things. What is it they said about the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world?
That hand belongs to a chick. You fellas might want to pay closer attention. The women’s fiction aisle of your local bookstore would be a good start.
You’re brilliant, as always, Mimi.