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shalannaFirst, a moment of silence to remember December 7, 1941.
We closed on our first house on December 7, 1990. So that's two anniversaries.
Anyhow. There are different ways of reading, as everyone knows.
Lauren McLaughlin has an interesting discussion of chick lit, speculative chick lit, and the modern woman's journey.
I think I could agree with EITHER side and both sides here. ("Both Sides Now" is a great song.) I agree that chick lit tries to show the journey of the modern woman. It's quite different from the journey modeled by June Cleaver, Jane Austen, or my mother (be taken care of by a man, be domestic, be represented by how clean your house is [!] and how hip or nifty your decor is AND by how well you "take care of" the man and any children . . . but then after he leaves you many years too early--in Daddy's case, by crossing over to the Other Side, but some people experienced this through divorce back when that was a dirty word and "co-respondent"/correspondent was still named--you have to go out and clean houses and work at a deli to make ends meet and become an independent eccentric little old lady.) However, when they say it's not all about shoes and materialism and outward appearances (or, in some cases, about how when you lose weight, your entire life will suddenly change and things will be wonderful--hah), they do protest too much, because on many levels it *is*. At least it is for many readers.
I'll wager that most of their readers won't even notice the deeper levels of the books, if my book-discussing neighbors are anyone to go by; they say, "I read those dirty nasty books for the steamy scenes and I don't even remember the plot or anyone's name, and I'll read those fashiony books to see what brands are in and what kind of stuff they accumulate because I'd like to get the same stuff." Aargh, but that kind of reader exists. You know what they say: those people who read only the National Enquirer are part of the elite few who read anything at all!
I exaggerate for effect, but not by much. There's a contingent of readers who won't really worry too much about the deeper parts of the story or its theme. They don't even SEE that part of the books, apparently, if my high school classes in English are any indication . . . so many students were totally clue-free about anything but the bare lines of the plot and any "dirty" parts, and they enjoyed it without knowing the theme or any highfalutin' stuff. If they internalized stuff like "Atticus Finch is the modern hero" or "Love doesn't conquer all, though it tries," they didn't know about it. So maybe that's happening out there with chick lit's readership, and that's what bugs all those critics who write that it shouldn't be this popular, because they think people ought to read the way THEY do. And they ain't a-gonna do that. (grin) If they read, they're going to read for their own reasons and in their own ways. My sister-in-law said the most important thing is that a book be easy to read.
It's kind of funny . . . I thought of all this because when I fought my way through the sleet to my doctor's office this morning for a blood draw (he tests diabetics every three months, especially when they're on other drugs that mean you have to be monitored), the nurses were discussing my status as an author. When _Dulcinea_ first came out and I had the book signings at metroplex Borders stores, my doctor's wife (who also works as one of his nurses) came and got a book! She mentioned to them this morning that she wondered when I'd be coming out with a sequel. By the time I got there, she had left, but they asked me questions about it all. This led to a discussion of why I don't work on the sequels to that book right now (I'm trying to sell in another genre, thinking that is more likely). Then the phlebotomist said she wanted a couple of copies as Christmas presents, because her son and nephew read fantasy. She asked if I had copies, so I arranged to bring two to sell to her when I come in for my appointment next week. She didn't want to try to special order it and doesn't have a credit card to order online. The other nurse wrote down the title so she could order it from Amazon. That was all really cool. I told them I was shopping the mystery series and the chick lit book. The phlebotomist said, "Well, if you write one of those nasty, trashy books, call me right away and I'll proofread it for you. I love that stuff!" (*grin*)
People think of their reading in different terms. For some people, it's all about deeper thoughts and all this meaning and the eternal human condition and so forth (that's the way it is for me), and for others, it's about story and entertainment. It's all okay . . . it's just different.
We closed on our first house on December 7, 1990. So that's two anniversaries.
Anyhow. There are different ways of reading, as everyone knows.
Lauren McLaughlin has an interesting discussion of chick lit, speculative chick lit, and the modern woman's journey.
I think I could agree with EITHER side and both sides here. ("Both Sides Now" is a great song.) I agree that chick lit tries to show the journey of the modern woman. It's quite different from the journey modeled by June Cleaver, Jane Austen, or my mother (be taken care of by a man, be domestic, be represented by how clean your house is [!] and how hip or nifty your decor is AND by how well you "take care of" the man and any children . . . but then after he leaves you many years too early--in Daddy's case, by crossing over to the Other Side, but some people experienced this through divorce back when that was a dirty word and "co-respondent"/correspondent was still named--you have to go out and clean houses and work at a deli to make ends meet and become an independent eccentric little old lady.) However, when they say it's not all about shoes and materialism and outward appearances (or, in some cases, about how when you lose weight, your entire life will suddenly change and things will be wonderful--hah), they do protest too much, because on many levels it *is*. At least it is for many readers.
I'll wager that most of their readers won't even notice the deeper levels of the books, if my book-discussing neighbors are anyone to go by; they say, "I read those dirty nasty books for the steamy scenes and I don't even remember the plot or anyone's name, and I'll read those fashiony books to see what brands are in and what kind of stuff they accumulate because I'd like to get the same stuff." Aargh, but that kind of reader exists. You know what they say: those people who read only the National Enquirer are part of the elite few who read anything at all!
I exaggerate for effect, but not by much. There's a contingent of readers who won't really worry too much about the deeper parts of the story or its theme. They don't even SEE that part of the books, apparently, if my high school classes in English are any indication . . . so many students were totally clue-free about anything but the bare lines of the plot and any "dirty" parts, and they enjoyed it without knowing the theme or any highfalutin' stuff. If they internalized stuff like "Atticus Finch is the modern hero" or "Love doesn't conquer all, though it tries," they didn't know about it. So maybe that's happening out there with chick lit's readership, and that's what bugs all those critics who write that it shouldn't be this popular, because they think people ought to read the way THEY do. And they ain't a-gonna do that. (grin) If they read, they're going to read for their own reasons and in their own ways. My sister-in-law said the most important thing is that a book be easy to read.
It's kind of funny . . . I thought of all this because when I fought my way through the sleet to my doctor's office this morning for a blood draw (he tests diabetics every three months, especially when they're on other drugs that mean you have to be monitored), the nurses were discussing my status as an author. When _Dulcinea_ first came out and I had the book signings at metroplex Borders stores, my doctor's wife (who also works as one of his nurses) came and got a book! She mentioned to them this morning that she wondered when I'd be coming out with a sequel. By the time I got there, she had left, but they asked me questions about it all. This led to a discussion of why I don't work on the sequels to that book right now (I'm trying to sell in another genre, thinking that is more likely). Then the phlebotomist said she wanted a couple of copies as Christmas presents, because her son and nephew read fantasy. She asked if I had copies, so I arranged to bring two to sell to her when I come in for my appointment next week. She didn't want to try to special order it and doesn't have a credit card to order online. The other nurse wrote down the title so she could order it from Amazon. That was all really cool. I told them I was shopping the mystery series and the chick lit book. The phlebotomist said, "Well, if you write one of those nasty, trashy books, call me right away and I'll proofread it for you. I love that stuff!" (*grin*)
People think of their reading in different terms. For some people, it's all about deeper thoughts and all this meaning and the eternal human condition and so forth (that's the way it is for me), and for others, it's about story and entertainment. It's all okay . . . it's just different.
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Date: 2005-12-07 10:15 am (UTC)She was, by my lights, writing ChickLit for her time.
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Date: 2005-12-08 12:19 am (UTC)Have we pushed too far? I don't know. I do know that a good number of my acquaintances have solid circles of friends they depend on for social support, as traveling companions, etc., and they don't depend on their families as much as people seemingly used to. And many of them don't choose to have children or marry. But are they so much happier than people who choose to partner up and build a home and have children and do all the traditional stuff? I can't really tell. I suspect the proportion of "happy people" vs "miserable people" is the same as ever. That goes back to the "search for what happiness is" that I described as part of that book, _Whatever Makes You Happy_. The character never really settled on any one way to "become happy." I suppose that was the point of the book, or one of them, in some sense. But on the other hand, she showed a lot of ways to make oneself unhappy!