I’ve spoken before about chick lit and gotten a few angry responses. It’s hard not to talk about this genre without opinions running amok. What brings me to this topic today is the publication of This is Not Chick Lit an anthology edited by Elizabeth Merrick which contains eighteen stories from a wide range of women writers including Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, Jennifer Egan, and Francine Prose. When the news of this book’s publication came out, tempers flared. “How dare they marginalize our writing” declared writers like Jennifer Weiner, Rachel Pine, and Lauren Baratz-Logsted. The response has been to publish simultaneously a warring anthology called This is Chick Lit, though it’s not out quite yet.
I’m not sure how to feel about this controversy. On the one hand, as part of a marginalized sector already (women), I don’t know that all of this fighting serves us very well period. Sales of chick lit show that people want to read books like these and who am I to look down on anyone’s reading choices. Okay, I admit it, I do look down on reading choices and I can’t help it. But that said, there’s the argument of “at least people are reading something” right? And really I think there are two arguments going on here. One is the argument for or against reading “light” fiction. The secondary argument might be whether or not chick lit should be called “light” fiction—does it deal with real issues or is it escapism? And who’s to say that women work their way towards Mary Gaitskill or Kelly Link, as Ed proposes? A lot of people don’t like to read “out of bounds”, that is outside of their comfort zone. I can’t see the leap from Sophie Kinsellsa’s Confessions of a Shopaholic to A.L. Kennedy’s Paradise, buy maybe I am underestimating people.
And this brings up a completely different argument. Why is women’s writing marginalized in the first place? Why aren’t more women writer’s books being reviewed? According to Elizabeth Merrick, “there is this golden moment of women writers right now; it’s like a golden age and a blossoming of women fiction writers, and it’s not getting that much attention.” Looking at my own bookshelves, I see more male authors than female. Francine Prose confesses that she does not read women very widely: “I have a terrible confession to make– I have nothing to say about any of the talented women who write today. Out of what is no doubt a fault in me, I do not seem able to read them.”
I’ve thrown several arguments out there I realize, but I find the incongruity between literary fiction and chick lit interesting. And as a woman in the book world, I wonder why the men still dominate the literati.
Addendum:
I meant to add something about the covers of chick lit novels. What’s with the color scheme? I’d be more inclined to pick one up if most of them weren’t pastel with martini glasses and high heel shoes on them. And before anyone accuses me of generalizing, I don’t think I am. I could go down into my store and pull any number of books with this theme. Even This is Chick Lit has a yellow cover with a high heel on the cover. The whole scheme is tacky and I wish they’d just cut it out.
Bookdwarf 
Interesting post, Megan. While I suspect that I may be more of an idealist than you are, I was basically trying to imply that any book might serve as a starting point. My feeling is that, as people read more and more, they develop their own reading tastes and apply more scrutiny to their choices. Thus, someone who starts off reading Jennifer Weiner might end up gravitating to Mary Gaitskill.
Speaking for myself, as a young reader, I devoured a good deal of speculative fiction. But it did lead me inevitably into literary fiction. But I’m still willing to give a good yarn by Dennis Lehane or Scott Smith a shot. One thing’s for sure: never in my most brain-dead days would I be reaching for Us Weekly. 🙂
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Thanks Ed. I’m a pessimist I guess. I don’t see people trying new things very often and that’s why I don’t believe they’ll change their reading habits. At least, not as adults. But it could happen and I’m glad one of us still hopes for the best.
I too started out reading a great deal of speculative fiction and gravitated toward literary fiction. Actually, my earliest reading memories are of being into Judy Blume. That Fudge….
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I think the distinction is the same as the one people make between “flicks” and “films.” “Flicks” or “popcorn movies” are the things you go to see when the weather sucks, or it’s Friday and you’re bored, or when you need a video to be on in the background at a party. “Films” are things you discuss over endless cups of espresso at the pretentious cafe.
And “chick lit” is light fiction by and about women.
I don’t know that there’s an analagous term for “serious fiction by and about women,” but I don’t think we’ve got a hard time recognizing it and I don’t think it’s marginalized– certainly not as much as it was when female writers (Alcott, the Brontes) wrote under male pseudonyms.
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I don’t think there should be a term for serious literature by women. There’s not one for men, unless you think only literature pertains to men.
I do seriously think women authors are marginalized. Where are the reviews? Even the New York Times Book Review’s survey from earlier this year of the best books of the last 20 years included a handful of women. That’s ridiculous! There was no Mary Gaitskill on the list or A.M. Homes. Granted the survey was flawed, but I think it’s symptomatic of the state of literature. Men have dominated the lists for years and I think there’s still an unconscious prejudice for women authors.
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I read across all categories and densities of literature. Some days I’m in the mood for Valerie Martin or Ian McEwen or Updike or Atwood … other days I want Sophie Kinsella or Jennifer Weiner or John Grisham. Depending on which day you saw me on the T, you’d have one impression of me or another, and neither would be correct. I have to imagine that there are many readers like me.
As for female writers: are there the same numbers of published males and females, excluding the gender-heavy genres like sci-fi and romance? I would think that sales potential for a male author would be greater because women will buy books written by men, whereas fewer men will be inclined to buy books written by women — at least in my experience. So perhaps there lies part of the imbalance.
The covers on chick lit: I tend to agree with you. But they serve a purpose: to brand the book so that the customer immediately understands the type of reading experience. In the old days, trade paperbacks signaled a more literary, quality book, and mass market said “more commercial.” With the demise of the mass market book, and the 3-seconds that a book has to register with its potential buyer, packaging is key. If I want a certain type of reader, I have to package the book so that they will quickly understand what it is.
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I think Anna S. has a good point when she talks about how sci-fi and romance are pretty gender-heavy: we don’t have “lad-lit” because we have trashy sci-fi/fantasy on the one hand and Tom Clancy and his imitators on the other.
Chick-lit is in a lot of ways a romance offshoot set in a contemporary time-frame and focusing on urban single twentysomethings.
And there isn’t a catchprhase for “serious literature by and about women” any more than there is a catchprhase for “serious literature by and about men” because serious literature is serious literature, and appeals to readers with slightly less regard for gender (not to say none– Updike is still machista and so forth).
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Regarding chick lit book covers…check out the recent issue of Print magazine…there’s an entire chick lit cover diagram! Here’s a link: http://www.printmag.com/Portals/1/Center%20spread%20images/Chicklitchart.jpg
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I think the issue has been unnecessarily divided into chick lit vs. serious fiction. Has anyone (besides Anna S.) acknowledged the fact that it’s not an either/or proposition? Not only do readers choose books from both sides of the aisle, but there are plenty of books that don’t fall into either category, but somewhere in between– like one one my favorite authors, Sara Lewis.
By the way, when I was in high school, I pretty much only read romance novels. Turns out I love Nabokov, Barnes, Eco, and Russo too. I also pick up chick-lit every once in a while. I still firmly believe that you can learn a lot from any type of book, as long as you keep reading.
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It would be interesting to know the numbers of books of fiction – literary lets say – published in terms of percentage, by each sex. It would help determine just how ridiculous the ratio reviewed by the NYTBR really is. If only 10% of literary titles are published by one sex, that’s all I’d expect to be reviewed of titles by that one sex.
That said (sorry, Statistics degree pops up once in a while), I doubt the ratios are anywhere near that particular weekly’s review ratio.
I do think that it’s tough to generalize chick-lit specifically by the covers, or even the general topics, and hold the title literary fiction away from all such books. I’ve read Lauren Baratz-Logsted’s three titles (to date – a flurry is following soon from what I understand) and based on those reading experiences, and especially the fact that I think, like many authors, she’s getting better each time around, I plan on reading How Nancy Drew Saved My Life when it comes out.
To mix arts altogether and toss music into the mix – while LBL’s books may have a bit of a pop music shine to them compared to works of, say, Elizabeth Merrick, or Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, they also have great characters, interesting plots, and are witty as hell in places. Reading them, as well as the “chick-lit” titles of male author, Ad Hudler, remind me of listening to Nirvana Unplugged – and realizing that underneath the noise, and the angst (all of which I passionately supported), was one helluva pop song writer.
Other writers pulling more literary cred might not apply that shine that LBL (or Ad Hudler) does, but deep down there are MANY similarities in what they do.
Now, the statistician in me says that two authors (and one not even female at that) is a crappy statistical survey, and I’ll be honest, I judge books by their covers and have not been all that excited by many of the covers by others included in This Is Chick Lit – but I can say that not all authors lumped into the chick lit category are void of literary cred.
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Megan, first off, the second element in my last name is Logsted, not Golsted as you have me in your original post. 🙂
There’s so much smart commentary here – I love an intelligent debate!
I’m a writer and the editor of This Is Chick-Lit, but I’m a reader first. I’ve averaged 100-250 books a year since the age of 10. In 2005 I pledged to read a book a day and can’t seem to stop. As you can imagine, with that kind of habit, I read a little bit of everything. I also write a little bit of everything.
I realize that the perception, at least by some people, is that all Chick-Lit is light fiction about twentysomethings looking for Mr Right in the big city. I certainly won’t try to say there aren’t a lot of books like that, but by no means all (and I’ve never written that book). In fact, a lot of Chick-Lit is social comedy or satire and would be classified thus if the same books were written by men. A lot of Chick-Lit books address important themes, as does literary fiction, albeit in a comic franework.
The covers: the authors can’t do anything about that. It’s all the marketing and art departments. I’d give anything to have the cover of How Nancy Drew Saved My LIfe be a retro cover designed to look like the original ND series, but I got what I got. That said, I love the cover for my upcoming book, Vertigo, billed as literary fiction by its publisher Random House.
It seems to me one of the chief purposes of Elizabeth Merrick’s This Is Not Chick Lit is to say that literary fiction is good and Chick-Lit is worthless. Those of us involved with This Is Chick-Lit have no similar intentions. We *love* literary fiction, provided it’s well-written, so much that there’s an appendix at the back of the book called “Reaching Across the Aisle,” wherein each Chick recommends one Lit she feels her own readership would love. No, we’re not about bashing. We just want readers to see the wide spectrum of themes and styles that falls under the umbrella heading of Chick-Lit.
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P.S. Dan Wickett is a brilliant man. I don’t know why I didn’t mention that earlier.
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I have to say the title This Is Not Chick Lit coupled with the impression I’m getting about Merrick’s introduction makes that anthology sound about like medicine, no matter who’s in it. I don’t like being prescribed reading like it’s an antidote for a brainectomy.
Bust ran a review of both these books and, although the reviewer started out more sympathetic to This Is Not, she ultimately gave the stories in This Is Chick Lit higher marks. (BTW, I found Merrick’s novel Girly practically unreadable, which is neither here nor there, but also subtly shades my view of that anthology.) I was happy about that, because it seems to me that women don’t need to help out those branding other women writers as this kind of writer or that kind of writer or important or not important or serious or not serious, ad infinitum. Inclusiveness not exclusiveness seems a far less defensive position to be in. If what you’re doing is good work, it’ll speak for itself.
Great post, Megan.
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I write women’s fiction – my work falls somewhere between literary fiction and chick lit – and I confess to both hating the covers and really hating the snobbery people attach to “light” fiction.
I write to entertain people, to make them laugh. I don’t see what’s wrong with that. My books aren’t about shopping and they’re not about shoes, but that does entertain a lot of people, and if the book-buying public wants to read about it, I support their right to do so.
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While reading this I was reminded of an assertion made in Leslie Fiedler’s Love and Death in the American Novel. He makes the argument that “chick lit” (though he doesn’t use the term) was the first literary genre to appear in America. Without going into the details, the quickee version of the theory goes thusly: women had more leisure time then men to write; they copied the domestic dramas hat were popular in Europe at the time; and they wrote about marriage, courtship, and family because these were important aspects to their life. He cites authors like Sarah Orne Jewett and Hannah W. Foster as examples. He claims that early American lit can be understood as a long march to “free” more masculine and supposedly serious genres from the shackles of this chick lit tyranny.
Perhaps we should reframe the boom in chick lit as the glorious re-discovery of America’s first, primal literary genre? If only to look at the debate from a fresh angle.
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THIS IS NOT CHICK LIT as a title is offensive to me not only as a woman, but as a reader – and not just a reader who’s enjoyed a few chick lit in her days. The entire concept offends me because:
– Apparently women can’t sell a book without calling into question the validity or worth of other women’s writing
– Had the collection been named “Serious Writing by Serious Women” would it be getting the attention it’s receiving? Obviously not. To sell out to the very term it’s denigrating was done for one reason – the book wouldn’t get the attention it’s garnering nor would it sell as many copies. Ironic, no? Now whose cover is the sell-out to marketing?
– That in this day and age women have to disrespect another women’s vocation in order to elevate her own.
– That the concept of “choice” doesn’t translate to what a woman reads or writes.
– That some women think they know better than others merely because their own self-prescribed and defined intellecutualism elevates them to supposed superior levels.
– That women must stoop so low as to participate in a public flogging of one another in the name of “real art worth reading” vs. “crap by stupid women who don’t know any better.”
Now, I won’t be purchasing either book – THIS IS NOT because it’s very concept is the anti-thesis of what I believe as a woman who chooses to support women who support other women in their endeavors, and THIS IS because it lacks the chick lit writers who I choose to read.
In any case, my purchase – or lack thereof – won’t matter. This entire debate is sad. When’s the last time men needed to publish books to defend themselves or denigate other men’s choices?
Is this what it’s come to for women writers? I’m embarassed for them.
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It’s funny – as I was reading through this post and its accompanying comments, I thought to myself, “Well, I read and write about a lot of women writers,” and I started to brush off what was being said.
Then I stopped and took a look at my own blog, and realized that when I read women writers, it tends to be memoir-based. I love reading about real women’s experiences, especially if it involves other cultures or time periods.
When I look for fiction, I usually look to men. With the exception of The Time Traveler’s Wife, all fiction I’ve read lately has been written by men.
I usually bypass the “chick-lit” sections in bookstores, even though I know I would probably enjoy the “light”(er) reading. After all, didn’t I read all about Bridget Jones, and don’t my roots lay in Alcott and Austen? But I honestly can’t get past the covers – regardless of who’s in charge of the covers (marketing? authors? PR firms?), I can’t in good conscience pick up a book that is pink and covered in jewelry and clothing. I hate to say it, but I feel like my IQ might drop a point or two just for bringing it up to the counter at B&N. In a world in which I worry about being taken seriously simply because I am a young woman working in a field often dominated by men (computers and technology), I don’t want to appear frivolous in my reading material.
Is that fair to the writers of these books that, again, I would more than likely enjoy? No – absolutely not. But I will still continue to focus on the literary fiction over chick-lit, and I’m not convinced (yet) that I’m missing out on too much.
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Just curious, Leah, why no fiction from women whose covers have not been pink, etc.?
“When I look for fiction, I usually look to men. With the exception of The Time Traveler’s Wife, all fiction I’ve read lately has been written by men.
I usually bypass the “chick-lit” sections in bookstores, even though I know I would probably enjoy the “light”(er) reading.”
To me, this reads as when I look for fiction, if I want something thick and interesting, I’ll grab a male writer, but if I want something light, I’d look for a female writer. You may not have meant that – it’s just the way I took the combination and jump from one paragraph to the next.
There are many females being published though without the pink covers that are affecting your purchasing habits though. This recent round of LBC nominations had novels from Kellie Wells and Edie Meidav. Next month, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie’s second novel is being published. The list is long and worthy of your time.
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I read everything – literary fiction, Chick-Lit, other genres, nonfiction, YA, and read men and women writers pretty evenly – and always have done. Life is too short to read the same stuff over and over and, for me, too short to care what other people think of the covers on the books I read.
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Great news, Dan! I just realized that I’m currently reading Margaret Atwood, who I LOVE, and I’m enjoying her immensely. Maybe I’m not a traitor to my gender, after all!
Thanks so much for the author-recommendations. I am writing them down to check out on future bookstore runs.
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