Nerve.com Screening Room
we have a friend who has a friend who, last year, wrote just about the worst chick lit book EVER and got it published. my roommate, bless her stalwart heart, read it and grew so angry she'd interrupt her reading to shout, 'this is crap!! aghh, i hate her!'
well, roomie shouted again when she read that this woman has written a second book (please let her have kept out her crappy ass poetry) and has been invited to the printers row book fair this weekend. 'aagh! she wrote another one! god!' was my roomie's refrain.
i have to agree. while i enjoyed bridget jones (years ago) i don't think i want to read another book about a mediocre woman who deserves to get run over by a bus get romance instead. quite frankly, i'd never be friends with any of those women. or, if i was, i'd tolerate them in silence and wonder why the hell i didn't just shoot myself for having bad taste in companions.
i blame this crapload of chick lit on an apalling misreading of austen and her domestic fiction, and a complete ignorance of bronte. why not have some kick ass chick lit based on the bronte model of female behavior: be the smartest girl in the room and don't apologize for it; get the hots for the hottest man in the room and don't apologize for it; get wet, often; run away from the lame ass social mores of your society; get wild; get destitute; get dirty; get punished; get even; get wet again. burn down someone's house.