chick lit

Beachcombers

payal — Mon, 15 Nov 2010 16:00:00 +0000

Sometimes there is so much heavy reading material to get through, that what you really need is a short, light, fun book, and Beachcombers is just that. The novel centers on three sisters and their father and what they learn about themselves and each other in that time.

Their mother died when they were young and the oldest sister, Abbie, took some of the burden of raising her younger sisters because her father was dealing with his grief. Now adults, the youngest sister, Lily, is the only one who still lives with her father in Nantucket. The middle sister, Emma, moves back home after being dumped and losing her job because of the bad economy. Abbie has returned to help console her sister and spend time with her family. Meanwhile, their father has rented a room to Marina, a woman who is dealing with a break-up of her own.

As the summer starts, the family is scattered as each member deals with their own lives. As the summer progresses, they start to come together as they face falling in love and letting go of their mother, whose death still affects them.

What I loved most about this book is how much the reader gets to know each woman in the story. Though written in the third person, each chapter focuses on one of the sisters or on Marina. We get to know their insecurities, what they’re really thinking, and how they really feel about one another. Most importantly, we get to see how the past continues to affect them and how they reconcile that with the promise of their future.

The thing that surprised me about this book was how it was able to bring up issues of grief, mental health, depression, suicide, etc. while remaining a light read. I suppose most people would classify this as chick lit, so in some respects, you know what you’re getting when you start reading it. And yet it kept me interested on a deeper level than I expected when I picked it up.

Of course, most of it was very predictable, but I was impressed by how much I enjoyed reading it in spite of that. If you completely hate anything that might fall near the realm of chick lit, then I suppose it’s best to stay away. But if you’re open to having some fluff accompany interesting women characters and discussions about mental health, then it’s definitely worth checking out Beachcombers.

Written by: frau sally benz, November 15th 2010

This Is Where We Live

barbara — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Janelle Brown

Random House

This Is Where We Live is the second novel of Janelle Brown. It is the tale of a struggling filmmaker, Claudia, and her marriage to Jeremy Munger, a struggling musician. A couple in their thirties who are also new homeowners, the Mungers deal with the financial burden of their home and the shortcomings of their luck in the ways of talent in different ways. While Brown has a funny and insightful writing style, the novel ultimately falls flat. Formulaic, harsh on women, and with underdeveloped characters, Brown’s novel could have been far more powerful, but instead stayed within the safe boundaries of the “chick-lit” genre.

The strength in Brown’s book was in its ability to inspire the readers to think about their own life choices. I thought that the struggles the Mungers faced were very relatable, particularly in facing the realities of financial hardship. Brown explores the question of what happens when people with creative aspirations give up on their dreams and deal with “reality.” The dialogue was honest and witty, and presented a great account of struggling to be an optimist in a world that has become obsessed with predictability.

The women in the novel were quite problematic. Brown reinforces a few binaries recycled from romantic comedies. Conveniently, in the midst of a quasi-quarter-life crisis moment for Jeremy, his wildly artistic and unpredictable ex-girlfriend, famous artist Aoki suddenly reappears. Aoki represents everything that Claudia is not. She is impulsive, confident, sexual, and just as Jeremy remembers her from his days dating her while he was a part of a successful rock band. Claudia represents the polar opposite: stability, comfort, and reality. The female characters are one-dimensional, lazy vehicles for two cliché stereotypes of women. Brown pits comfort and stability against the unpredictable and artsy woman, an epic battle already examined in many a romantic comedy. Thus, in focusing on the romantic struggles of Jeremy, the characters are left underdeveloped.

I did enjoy how Brown left loose ends, and how the tone of the book is not happy or sad. Despite its flaws, This Is Where We Live is a great easy and lazy read, particularly for an intelligent woman on the beach. While I predicted the plot and outcome of the novel before I even opened the book, Brown’s charming wit shined through this formulaic tale. However, the astounding number of cliches overpowers the funny and unique moments of the book, such as Claudia’s relationship with an elderly neighbor or her stint as a film teacher. Despite its honesty and ability to reach out to readers, This Is Where We Live is rendered mediocre because of its inability to stray from the formula.

Written by: Sara Yasin, November 8th 2010

She's Gone Country

brittany — Sat, 16 Oct 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Jane Porter

Hachette Book Group

When I received Jane Porter’s second novel, I’d been sick in bed for nearly two weeks. Though the book helped pass the time, it did little to hold my interest. From this reviewer’s perspective, a true test of a novel’s worth can be answered with one simple question: Would I buy this book? As it pertains to She’s Gone Country, the answer is no, even if I were to set aside my general dislike of “chick lit.”

She’s Gone Country tells the story of Shey Lynne, a model who had a seemingly perfect marriage to a successful photographer. Essentially, she was one half of a glamorous New York City power couple—and then it all went to hell when her husband came out of the closet (a surprising twist, I’ll admit). Shey Lynne hightails it to Parkfield, the small Texas town where she grew up. It’s here that we’re introduced to her controlling Southern Baptist mother, rough and tumble brother Brick, uppity brother Blue, and the memory of her deceased brother Cody, a bi-polar schizophrenic drug addict who died too young and whose death haunts the family like a ghost.

It’s in this environment that Shey Lynne is raising her three sons, who are trying desperately to adjust to life in the sticks after enjoying a private school education and a privileged life in the city. Though much family drama ensues, the meat of the story is Shey Lynne’s relationship with Dane Kelly, a former bull riding champion and wealthy cattle rancher that Shey Lynne dated briefly but intensely as a teenager. At sixteen, Dane was her world, so her parents sent her off to boarding school to keep her from doing something stupid like getting pregnant or running off with Kelly while he rode the circuit. Fast forward twenty years and it’s immediately apparent that Dane still has the power to make Shey weak in the knees when they run into each other at a popular restaurant in their small town.

Shey’s constant, almost obsessive references to Dane’s masculinity; his strength; his big this and strong that; his virility; his tight jeans; his smell; his every goddamn thing becomes too much to bear a few pages into their rekindled romance—let alone 340 pages later. It’s the thing I hate about flowery love stories; they’re always flirting with sex and alluding to certain female feelings. I’d have nothing but respect for Porter’s work if somewhere in She’s Gone Country she included the sentence “Dane made Shey Lynne’s pussy wet.” That’s what we’re talking about; that’s the funny feeling Shey Lynne experiences “down there” every time Dane walks into the room.

She’s Gone Country aims to provide a snapshot of a family in transition and perhaps even feed the myth that everything happens for a reason. It supposes that even after a lifetime of heartbreak, some women get their storybook ending, and this is precisely why I disliked the novel. I prefer a bit more depth in my books, and I want writing that more closely adheres to reality.

Written by: Tina Vasquez, October 15th 2010

The Cinderella Society

alicia — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 08:00:00 +0000

By Kay Cassidy

Egmont USA

Jess Parker is the new kid and her sophomore year stunk. She was treated as an outsider and Lexy Steele was (and still is) determined to make her life a nightmare in order to get back at Jess for taking Lexy's cheerleading spot. Meanwhile, Jess is looking forward to spending the summer before her junior year hiding from Lexy, working, volunteering and going to cheer camp. Maybe just maybe, the other cheerleaders will finally accept her. However, her summer plans change when she receives an invitation to attend a meeting for a secret sisterhood, The Cinderella Society.

The Cindys are not just about makeovers, they want to do good deeds, change the world and make every girl feel confident. Jess is thrilled to be part of the group, but she still has to deal with Lexy who leads the Wickeds. The Wickeds are intent on maintaining their popularity at any cost. They want other students to feel inferior to them. It's the never ending battle of good versus evil, high school style.

At times this book can read too much like a self-help manual. The message of girl power is very strong throughout the novel and this can be both a good and a bad thing. The story and message can seem cheesy or heavy handed, but at the same time, it's a message that we don't hear often and girls need to hear it constantly. It's very much about boosting your self esteem and it's what's on the inside that counts. I was disappointed that there was the cliché of the cheerleader falling in love with the football player but at least the main character realizes it. (“Besides I was practically a walking, talking stereotype: the cheerleader drooling over the quarterback. Except I wasn't popular. At least it wasn't a total cliché.”)

Furthermore, I didn't like how hi-tech the Cindys headquarters was. The technology made the story flow better, but it also lessened the credibility of the story. I think the story could have been even more appealing if the Cindys weren’t handed everything. They had access to the most exclusive hair salons and they received free makeup, etiquette and fashion lessons. Most girls would love those opportunities, but they are expensive and rare.

Normally I don't read much chick lit but this book sounded very unique and I wanted to give it a try. When I listed it as a book for the Chick Lit Challenge, I stated that I wasn't sure if I would review because I didn't know if there were any POC in it, and I don’t review books on my blog if there are no people of color in it. Ms. Cassidy commented that she was glad I was reading her book for the challenge and that it was multicultural. I was skeptical, what if our definitions of multicultural were different and she only had the token black friend? Well I was very wrong and in this case I loved being proven wrong. One of the co-captains, Kyra, is half Cuban; other members of the Cindys are Indian and African American.

The cultural background of the characters should not be a big deal, as Ms. Cassidy could have easily not mentioned the cultural background of her characters by simply stating that the Cinderella Society accepts everyone. But I think that people of color like myself would have assumed that everyone was white (it's what we've sadly become used to), so I was ecstatic that the various cultures were mentioned.

The Cinderella Society is a fun and inspiring novel that is quite innovative. It is mindful of Ms Cassidy to not exclude the Reggies (regular kids) from the Cindys vs. Wickeds. The Wickeds are not 100% bad, the Cindys not 100% good while the Reggies have the potential to be more powerful than both groups. This keeps the book from seeming too elitist or unrealistic. It is, to me, feminist and fun (how often do those two words go together in today's society?).

I look forward to learning more about the Wickeds, discovering what Jess sees in her love interest Ryan, and the ultimate battle between good and evil—high school style. I finished this book wanting to be a Cindy and that's the greatest power this book has. I'm convinced that it will inspire girls regardless of cultural or economic background to be a Cindy, too. As cheesy as it sounds this book does send the message that all girls can be Cindys.

Written by: Ari Reading in Color, October 2nd 2010

The Finishing Touches

admin — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 20:00:00 +0000

By Hester Browne

Gallery

I consider myself a feminist yet I read chick lit like it's going out of fashion—is that strange? I'm aware this genre is often problematic from a certain feminist point of view, but it also provides ample material for a proper discussion. Hester Browne's The Finishing Touches really brought out the feminist in me and made me think about how things have changed—or have they?

The Finishing Touches is an incredibly witty and adorable story that I nearly stopped reading after the first few chapters. What bothered me so much, you ask? The novel is mostly set at Tallimore Academy, a finishing school in London that is running out of business. Prior to this reading, I was unfamiliar with finishing schools and I got my education as I turned each page. At finishing schools, young girls were taught how to be the most ladylike, perfect wives, which was to be their main purpose in life. This might sound terribly old fashioned nowadays, but this book puts a modern spin on the matter.

Our main character Betsy is called to the rescue; her adoptive parents own Tallimore Academy and she grew up there. Betsy's father asks her to save the school from its sure demise, and so she decides to update the courses to meet the needs of modern girls. The new classes include money management, parking properly, looking good in photos, walking in high heels, dressing for various occasions, and behaving well on dates. I think the reader was meant to be appalled by the original concept of finishing schools, but are these new courses really so different? Or are they just an updated version of old sexist ideas?

I'm sure you'll agree that mastering the above mentioned skills certainly can't hurt in today's shallow society. Personally, I find myself divided on whether I should be offended or consider them a clever idea (in a way). I certainly think these courses could be aimed at both sexes; after all, it's not just girls who need lessons in parking and relationships. I'm aware that these courses do nothing for female emancipation as a whole, and while a part of me rejects them immediately, another part asks, "Why not?"

The truth is that "being yourself," while a worthwhile goal, will often get you nowhere in our superficial society, so why not adapt? Why not make the best of your looks, get yourself noticed, and then show people what you're capable of instead of being dismissed before even getting a chance to succeed? Should a feminist stay true to herself by focusing more on intellect than appearance and counting on this being enough to reach her goals? Or should she make yourself as pretty and likable as possible (maybe even with the help of courses similar to those in this book), even though she knows the rules of this game are dictated by men and consumerism?

Personally, I've tried both. And I've been forced to do the latter quite often because I've found that the first method just doesn't seem to be enough. Nonetheless, I like to think I'm not betraying my feminist beliefs, and I feel that paying attention to my appearance gives me a confidence boost that helps me succeed. Maybe that's the trick: maybe it all just comes down to confidence. How confident are you to be yourself?

The Finishing Touches is an escapist read, and thus meant to be taken lightly, but it did a pretty good job of making me think about the predicament of modern women.

Written by: Suzana @ Bookalicious Ramblings, July 15th 2010

The Butcher and the Vegetarian: One Woman's Romp through a World of Men, Meat, and Moral Crisis

admin — Sat, 24 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Tara Austen Weaver

Rodale

Food writer Tara Austen Weaver was raised in a vegetarian home since her birth. As an adult, she unexpectedly gets diagnosed with thyroid disease. What’s she to do? Fast for forty days? No. Go macrobiotic? Nope, not that either. Instead, Weaver must eat meat—by doctor’s order. So she turns to a carnivorous diet. What unfolds is part chick lit-cookbook and part treatise on farm animal rights.

Weaver’s introduction to the world of animal flesh brings her into contact with many meat-industry types. Some she casts in an ethical light. These include kind butchers and organic cattle ranchers. She also comes to know a charming meat blogger. Readers may object to the notion of ethical, caring cattle ranchers and butchers, but I can assure you these characters would cause anyone to re-examine their assumptions.

Throughout the The Butcher and the Vegetarian, Weaver’s writing is lively and clever. Readers will enjoy her wit and keen use of hyperbole. At one point she describes a Holy Grail-like experience wherein she smothers her steak in a rapturous chimichurri sauce.

The Butcher and the Vegetarian’s cover art depicts tiny hearts and cute cartoon characters, but the book offers up several dark and unexpected twists. One minute I was reading about pork tenderloin; the next thing I know, Weaver is describing how her mother's boyfriend molested her when she was thirteen and her two subsequent suicide attempts. Woah! Hold it right there, meat lady. I need a minute to digest!

Although surprised by the confession, I appreciate Weaver's honesty and think the topic of abuse deserves a place in the book. Weaver's relationship with meat mirrors her relationship with men. To her, meat is a very masculine experience.

In passing, Weaver mentions that she doesn't consider fish to be meat. And as for chickens, I was equally shocked to find out she puts them in the category of "almost not a meat." Still, The Butcher and the Vegetarian shares some good information about the treatment of farm animals and the truth about our (and their) sources of food. These facts are of great value to readers.

Although once a vegetarian, Weaver is no activist, and she also makes her preference for food over animal welfare transparent from the beginning. It does strike me as suspicious, however, that someone so horrified at eating a steak and so knowledgeable about the farming industry would be okay with consuming eggs and dairy. I wonder if she doesn't recognize the incongruity.

Personally, I could care less about how to prepare meat; it’s simply not part of my life. Though The Butcher and the Vegetarian is well written, Weaver lost me at each mention of fine cuts of X or a special preparation of Y. What I did find fascinating (and thoroughly graphic) was Weaver’s research visit to the farm where she witnesses the process of slaughter. She writes that seeing this occur repeatedly has a desensitizing effect, that it becomes ordinary, or even "normalized."

In my experience, there was nothing normal about it. When I was in veterinary school, I witnessed the slaughtering process several times, and the blood of those poor cows still floods my nightmares. Maybe that makes me overly critical. But it’s the truth.

Written by: Laura Koffler, April 23rd 2010

The Opposite of Me

admin — Tue, 13 Apr 2010 16:01:00 +0000

By Sarah Pekkanen

Washington Square Press

Lindsey Rose’s life is perfectly in order when The Opposite of Me opens: She’s hours away from being made a vice-president at a large advertising firm, she weeks away from owning a piece real estate in a tony New York neighborhood, she’s got a closet full of designer clothes, and, oh, she’s only twenty-nine years old. Sarah Pekkanen’s debut novel may sound like a familiar chick lit story, but over the course of nearly 400 pages, it wades into deeper waters.

At the book's beginning, the heroine is comfortable with being the successful, smart, and serious twin to Alex's breathtaking beauty, charm, and popularity. The two have orbited around each other since birth, but were never able to connect until an unexpected and catastrophic chain of events bring Lindsey back home to the DC suburb of Bethesda. Here, with her two hilarious and long-bickering parents, sister, and a childhood friend who’s always had a not-so-secret crush on her, Lindsey begins to discover and embrace her true self. Though The Opposite of Me is billed as being about sisters (and it is, in a way), the central theme seems to be identity, which even the four markers that divide the book suggest: “Success,” “Home,” “Jump,” and “Trading Places.”

Lindsey’s characterization of her twin was disturbing to me at first because the smart = ugly and pretty = dumb stereotypes for women are, generally, false. Because readers meet Alex first through Lindsey’s jealous eyes, I found the prettier twin to be unreal. Yet, I identified with the sisters. As the story unfolds and Alex is allowed to speak and feel and express herself on her own terms, readers see that there’s a lot more to her than meets Lindsey’s eye, including a devastating diagnosis that throws the entire trajectory of the novel a-plop.

As grown women, some of us would like to believe we were born with our personalities, that all of our little quirks were predestined by nature. But anyone with a sibling—particularly one of the same sex—knows that, as much as our DNA plays a part, our identities can also be formed by a desire to compete with or be different from our familial relations. In this regard, Lindsey’s extreme Type A personality juxtaposed against Alex’s seemingly carefree and lovable nature seems a lot more believable and relevant, as if years of rubbing against each other had molded polar opposite personalities.

The meat of this story involves many of the issues that engross twenty-somethings: career, family, and relationships. Both women are initially presented as perfect fodder for bragging parents, but as each begins to discover hidden talents, the sisters commit to the rough-and-tumble work of living lives of passion. Pekkanen successfully leaves many of the genre’s cliches in the trash, but that didn’t stop the writer from indulging in a few tried-and-true chick lit plot points, including The Makeover. After sexifying her image and going on a six page shopping spree, our heroine makes one last stop for new shoes.

"Your boyfriend’s going to love them," a salesperson tells Lindsey.

"Boyfriend?" I said, winking. "Don’t you mean boyfriends?"

"You go girl!" she said.

What’s not to love about that?

Written by: Whitney Teal, April 13th 2010

Lunch in Paris: A Love Story, with Recipes

admin — Thu, 01 Apr 2010 00:00:00 +0000

By Elizabeth Bard

Little, Brown and Company

While the memoir fad is nothing new, Elizabeth Bard’s new book confirms the emergence of a memoir subgenre to contend with: the memoir with recipes. In May 2009, the New York Times proclaimed these books as the brainchild of the “money-making imagination of the publishing industry.” Certainly, a spate of globe-spanning titles have followed, many born from blogs. However, the story of the American in Paris has long been a favored literary subject. It has sparked writers’ imaginations from Henry James to Anais Nin to Elaine Dundy to David Sedaris. Elizabeth Bard’s adventures in Paris have a more chick-lit feel to them than even Nin or Dundy, and have a liberal sprinkling of Julia Child and Peter Mayle throughout. In this recipe-infused book, Bard navigates a long-distance relationship with a French archivist, decides to move to Paris, and eventually gets married and builds her writing career.

At first, Elizabeth Bard’s life seems impossibly charmed, complete with buying the perfect apartment on the increasingly trendy Rue Oberkampf and negotiating cultural differences that seem more endearing and eye-opening than frustrating. However, what sets Bard’s writing apart from others of her nascent genre is her thoughtfulness and realism. She paints a very true and convincing portrait of herself as a driven, New York striver, bent on academic, artistic, and financial success at an early age and agonizing over why it has not yet arrived. While she is highly educated, she does not come from a place of easy breezy privilege, and in between recipes inspired by fresh finds at her Parisian market, Bard contemplates her family and personal history.

As much as it documents her courtship, relationship, and marriage to Gwendal, a digital archivist and entrepreneur, Lunch in Paris is about Bard’s acclimatization to a Parisian pace of life and ultimately, self-acceptance. Bard finds her stride by finally finding a peaceful balance between her Parisian and New York lives and selves. While this revelation is not particularly groundbreaking and her feminist-tinged reflections stay in safe mainstream territory, Lunch in Paris satisfies readers with a good story, intelligent and heartfelt reflections, and mouth-watering recipes. It’s not clear if these recipes have been kitchen tested the way one would for a professional cookbook, but they serve as solid guidelines for readers interested to add a French twist to their cooking.

While it may not become part of the Americans in Paris literary cannon, Lunch in Paris is a satisfying, straightforward read that feels like a good friend telling you a particularly tasty—and truthful—story.

Written by: Eleanor Whitney, March 31st 2010

Hollywood Is Like High School With Money

admin — Mon, 21 Dec 2009 09:00:00 +0000

By Zoey Dean

Grand Central

In the new novel Hollywood is Like High School with Money, Zoey Dean explores high-stakes backstabbing amidst the glamorous realm of movie making. This book is reflective of the author’s typical genre: juvenile novels set in ritzy realms where teenagers act like jaded adults beyond what is typical among American youth. The author previously penned The A-List: Hollywood Royalty series and has been a New York Times bestseller for just this sort of novel. Book clubs beware: Dean’s latest take on Beverly Hills might find its way to your reading list.

The protagonist in this particular story is a naïve young Ohioan transplant to the Hills named Taylor Henning who lands her first Hollywood job as second assistant to corporate powerhouse Iris Whittaker at Metronome movie studio. Taylor quickly learns that good girl Midwest manners don’t keep her in the game amidst the school of sharks that is corporate entertainment America. Like many other beach-reads, this book plays out the scenario of innocent girl meets snarky sabotaging antagonist, yet somehow heroine manages to come out on top. As in the popular film Mean Girls, the protagonist takes a turn trying on the wicked glove before managing to triumph.

Sometimes superfluous with adjectives, Dean nonetheless manages to draw readers into Taylor's plight among the piranhas of Hollywood. Taylor's number one nemesis is one venomous blonde named Kylie Arthur, first assistant to Ms. Whitaker. Kylie is devious in the most typical manner of the beautifully vapid and will stop at nothing to move up in the company. The only character more wily than Kylie is Iris’ young daughter, Quinn, with her brazenly typical “don’t give a fuck” teen attitude and practiced indifference to everything outside her adolescent circle of cool.

Dean throws a cog into the works when Taylor reaches out to Quinn for advice on how to survive amongst the Beverly Hills veterans, and the teenage girl begrudgingly obliges. As Taylor follows Quinn’s texted directives such as “fake it until you make it,” she undergoes a transformation from Cleveland sweetie into vindictive power player. In some places, it is almost unbelievable that Taylor would so rapidly confuse her true nature with the cutthroat habits of the industry (via the eyes of a teen), but sometimes innocence really can breed extreme behavior and so, as a reader, you just roll with believing.

While overall Dean does a good job of bringing the reader into Taylor’s Hollywood world, it can sometimes feel like a case of “grab the thesaurus” to sort through the descriptions. While I have nothing against narratives written to entertain youth, please do realize that reading this novel will not enrich your literary breadth: it will amuse you in some places, frustrate you in others, and ultimately leave you with a feeling of blank.

Blank is okay though, because reading a book like this clears your mental slate allowing you to walk lazily down an imaginary path that doesn’t require cerebral strain. With an open mind for the genre of juvenile lit, anyone can enjoy passing time with Zoey Dean’s characters. Unless, of course, you get annoyed by silly girls making bad choices, losing the guy because of those choices, and then winding up a winning princess in the end. I’ll admit that I knew all along this novel wouldn’t break new ground for me, but nonetheless I enjoyed the read. Hollywood Is like High School with Money is a pleasant investment of one’s time and will mos’def pass an afternoon.

Written by: Djuna A. Davidson, December 21st 2009

Prospect Park West

admin — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 17:07:00 +0000

By Amy Sohn

Simon & Schuster

Brooklyn’s famously high-end and yuppie Park Slope neighborhood is nearly a character itself in Amy Sohn’s Prospect Park West. The book follows the lives of four women living in the neighborhood. There is Melora Leigh, a troubled actress, who joins the neighborhood co-op for good PR. Her time there ties her to Karen Shapiro, an overly protective mother and social climber desperate for a new apartment in the best school district. Lizzie O’Donnell is a “former lesbian” living with her husband and child, but still drawn to women. Her attention focuses on Rebecca Rose, another mom, who hasn’t been touched by her husband in the year and a half since she gave birth.

The book seems aimed at subtly making fun and illuminating the foibles of stereotypical yuppie mothers as well as the new hipster mother. It’s like a filled out gossip column or blog on the lives of overly privileged women. The struggles of being a mother are mentioned, but it is incidental to the women’s sex lives and neuroses. The stories weave together fairly well, though the plot line that connects Karen and Melora seems overly fanciful. At times, I found myself forgetting the connections between the characters and having to flip back to figure out who was being discussed.

Occasionally throughout the text are small chapters written in italics and from the perspective of a few of the male characters in the book. They don’t seem to add much to the book, as they don’t flesh out the male characters enough.

The book ends a bit anti-climactically. I didn’t feel let-down, but more "oh, now it’s done." I suppose Prospect Park West is simply giving a snapshot (in this case a 400 page snapshot) of the women’s lives. There is no grand climax in the action, because the women’s lives simply carry on, much like in real life.

For fans of chick lit and lighter fare, pick this book up. Otherwise, you can give it a miss.

Written by: Kristin Conard, November 16th 2009

Crossing Washington Square

admin — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 16:31:00 +0000

By Joanne Rendell

NAL

Some novels are quite naturalistic, but toy with magic realism. This book is the reverse: a charming, modern fairytale that just happens to have been liberally sprinkled with astute observations about life in the English Literature department of a large university.

Crossing Washington Square is a neatly crafted and satisfying story of two literature professors who approach their places within academia from different angles. Along the way, they have romantic encounters with several men in their faculty. Each woman’s very credible musings regarding these relationships are skillfully interwoven with comically awkward confrontations in and around the department. I easily related to the younger professor’s gaffes and passionate arguments as she settles into her new job. Author Joanne Rendell’s own teaching experiences are palpable in her excruciating descriptions of lackluster undergrads, interminable meetings and daunting responsibilities. I even felt a little guilty and a lot nostalgic about my own first year at New York University.

I’m sure the romantic entanglements are meant to be the focus and the academic arguments the subplot, but the heated debates about the pros and cons of critically examining ‘chick lit’ vs. ‘great lit’ from a feminist perspective were unique, and grabbed me from the first chapter. This topic is one of Rendell’s pet passions, and she writes from a cheeky and knowing place; she argues both sides in the voices of each of the co-protagonists with comic finesse.

While reading, I felt both admonished by the junior professor for dismissing Bridget Jones's Diary, and vindicated when the tenured professor counters that chick lit propagates sexist stereotypes. The whole controversy became so meta on page 199 that I laughed out loud: the young professor (with whom Rendell admits she identifies in the appended "conversation guide'"included in all NAL editions) says modern popular fiction shares commonalities with great books, and numbers the reasons!

She comes out in favor of books that are 1) memoirs loosely disguised as fiction, and 2) stories of young, clever women coming of age in the city. By that rationale, Crossing Washington Square itself gets to join the collection of worthy contemporary reads that reference the historical canon, and I suspect Rendell could defend this theory with poise and aplomb in front of the harshest of crit panels.

It’s hard to read a book that encourages literary criticism: I found myself looking more critically at this novel than I normally would. I tripped over a few clunky similes that interrupted evocative (and quite filmic. Hollywood, if you're listening...) descriptions of Greenwich Village, Bloomsbury, and both Sohos. Rendell, who is originally from the UK but has settled in the U.S., often puts British phrasing in the American characters’ mouths and toys with New York vernacular. The use of schlep in the narration didn't ring true to this New Yorker’s ears.

Last bone to pick with this otherwise highly likable novel: I could have done without the action taking place at so-called Manhattan U—that was a fantasy too far. We all know that NYU is the huge university on Washington Square. Can’t miss it. It’s a shame we live in such a litigious world that readers, writers, and publishers seem to have agreed to this particular contrivance.

Before I started reading, I was more on the side of the old school academics who are pitted against the Bridget Jones lovers as the backdrop of the book. The endearingly flawed characters and a well-crafted story won me over. I thoroughly enjoyed entering the world of this urban and urbanely written tale and look forward to Rendell's next novel.

Written by: Chella Quint, October 19th 2009

The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder

admin — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 23:56:00 +0000

By Rebecca Wells

Harper Collins

_"This world is made up of stories—every person's story, those that are hidden, and those that are outright and clear. This is the story of one named for a flower." _

The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder is the story of a young girl's experience growing up in 1950s Louisiana. Rebecca Wells, author of Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, creates a powerful new heroine in Calla Lily Ponder. From an early age, Calla Lily realizes she has inherited her mother's unique gift of healing through beauty and she resolves to continue the tradition by opening her own hair salon. Calla Lily possesses the ability to transform a woman through her hair, or as her mother calls it her "crowning glory."

Throughout the course of her journey, Calla Lily copes with first love, her mother's battle with cancer, and life in New Orleans. Nurtured by her small town upbringing, Calla Lily faces every obstacle with fierce strength and unwielding determination. She culls her strength from various sources, most notably her beloved mother "M'Dear," the ethereal Moon Lady, and Louisiana herself. This strength not only drives Calla Lily towards accomplishing her goal but also carries her through periods of heartbreak and crippling grief.

Rebecca Wells allows the reader to travel to Louisiana through Calla Lily, and by the end of the novel, you feel you have shared an intimate conversation with each of her characters. Never having been to Louisiana myself, this book made me want to buy a plane ticket and escape to Calla Lily's magical community, La Luna. My only criticism of the novel is that the story line at times feels somewhat familiar and predictable. Regardless, The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder is a great summer read, and I hope Rebecca Wells brings us more from this impressive heroine and her circle of friends.

Written by: Samara Sousa, August 24th 2009

Heart and Soul

admin — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 17:20:00 +0000

By Maeve Binchy

Knopf

As much as I'm addicted to hard news and biography, Maeve Binchy's novels are my guilty pleasure. If you're into this genre (think chick lit with substance) you won't be disappointed with Heart and Soul, the Irish novelist's latest book. Set in (where else?) Dublin, the book chronicles a year in the life of employees and patients of a new heart clinic.

Scrambling both for clinic funds and a smoother personal life, protagonist Clara Casey, a cardiologist, is one of Binchy's most feminist characters to date. She is also a well-drawn and likable one: successful but humble, compassionate yet hard as nails when she needs to be. Casey has given herself a year to succeed at what was at first an unwanted job, after being passed over for a more prestigious position. In the meantime, she hopes to sort out her difficult adult daughters, her nearly-ex-husband, and a budding romance with a boring man.

This book is actually full of strong, independent female characters of all ages, ranging from the young, hopeful immigrant who is hired to do chores at the office to the foreign language teacher who is skeptical about her husband's treatments at the clinic.

Fans will be delighted to see characters from several of Binchy's other books (Scarlet Feather, Quentins, Nights of Rain and Stars, Whitethorn Woods) return alongside new ones that are equally well-drawn. Then there's the delightful backdrop of Irish neighborhoods so cozy and intimate that everyone seems to know everyone.

Spoiler alert: My only gripe reading Heart and Soul is that Binchy, in her constant quest to reward her characters with happiness, sets the stage for a romantic dalliance with a couple of people who spend most of the book at each other's throats. And out of nowhere, they're dancing and he's asking her out? Hello!

Other than that, this is a fast read and a sweet escape from the daily grind. If you like Maeve, you will love this one.

Written by: M.L. Madison, June 3rd 2009

The Makedown

admin — Thu, 14 May 2009 17:19:00 +0000

By Gitty Daneshvari

5 spot

The Makedown is marketed as a witty take on a makeover in reverse. However, this part of the storyline actually occurs in the last fourth of the novel. The first two parts focus on the makeover of the narrator and main character, Anna Norton, and the third focuses on the start of her dysfunctional relationship with her boyfriend, Ben.

The first section of the novel, titled “Hello Fatty,” describes Anna ages ten to twenty-three with nearly every “ugly” cliché imaginable. She is “fat,” has braces; acne; greasy, matted hair; and is a bad dresser. However, she is also extremely intelligent, landing a spot at the University of Pennsylvania and ultimately graduating with a degree in molecular biology.

After a short series of unfortunate events on her twenty-third birthday, Anna decides to move to New York City, giving up an apprenticeship at a research facility in Ohio. Disheartened by a job interview on Wall Street in which she is mocked for her appearance, the Penn graduate takes a job as a caterer’s assistant making minimum wage. But she doesn’t care because this caterer, Janice, is her “fairy godmother,” the person Anna has been waiting for to transform her “ugly” and “fat” self into something beautiful.

After calling all of the delivery places in Anna’s Brooklyn neighborhood and telling them not to serve her, Janice finally gets Anna to start eating healthy and exercising. She also introduces Anna to the Gap, her dermatologist, and mustache waxing. Anna is rewarded for all of this with her first New York boyfriend, Ben.

The only problem is Anna’s intense insecurity, left over from her days as a “fatty.” In comparison to Ben’s ex-girlfriends, she feels she just doesn’t stack up. She worries about Ben only asking her out because his mother suggested it. She worries about the girls who smile at Ben and worries even more when he smiles back. She overhears him give his email address to a coffee barista and pretends to faint for attention. She finally decides that he is just too good looking, and knows it too well, for their relationship to work.

Instead of breaking up and moving on, Anna can’t let him go. Thus, she plans The Makedown. In the words of Anna, “makedowns are applied to lessen the excessive beauty that Mother Nature accidentally dumped on certain people.” She focuses on fattening Ben up, thinning out his hair, and dressing him poorly. She convinces herself making Ben less beautiful will be the answer to her relationship problems, but, as expected, she’s wrong.

To be honest, I didn’t find this book very witty. The superficiality of the characters was painful, not humorous, for the most part, and while the concept might sound unique, the story was still quite predictable. I appreciate that the end goal of the novel is to remind the reader to be happy and confident in herself before committing to another person and that looks aren’t really everything, but I wish those points weren’t so muddy.

The book’s writing is in the vein of Helen Fielding or Marian Keyes, but the biggest difference is those authors’ characters are much more relatable, and more realistic, than Anna. I left the book feeling sorrier for her than I did when it started and, even if that was part of the author’s intention, it was disappointing.

Written by: Jill Hindenach, May 14th 2009

The Kept Man

admin — Sun, 26 Apr 2009 16:59:00 +0000

By Jami Attenberg

Riverhead Books

One thing I don't expect to find in a chick lit-type book* is a line like this: "The thing about fucking on coke is, afterward, there's no rolling over and going to bed." Oh. I'd never thought of that. In fact, much of this book elicits that response from me.

The premise of The Kept Man, when stripped of both clothing and flesh is, frankly, almost implausible: Jarvis Miller has been waiting for six years for her artist husband to either die or wake up from his coma. Ok, so that part isn't the most implausible part. Here it goes: Jarvis Miller's husband was a good artist. No, he was really good. No, he was so good she's been able to sell off his artwork and pay for his super-high-quality nursing care, and pay her bills, and keep her home, and not have to work. We meet her on the day she serendipitously encountered, engaged, and befriended three handsome male strangers—thus setting into motion a series of events which would change her life.

This, of course, is the problem with skeletons: somehow, when looking at the frame of a human form, it is impossible that those light, delicate, elegant, fragile structures could possibly support human weight. And, miraculously, they do.

It is true that Jarvis Miller's life does not model a 'standard' experience with health care, loss, relationships, nursing facilities, or laundromats. However, it seems just possible that any one person could have had precisely this experience. There are indeed artists, and these artists may indeed have wives. Some artists are indeed very talented, and talented people, like any others, may indeed suffer misfortunate accidents. There are some very good care facilities and some people, by fortuitous luck, are able to afford them. It is indeed possible to meet strangers and sometimes they do indeed become your friends. And change does indeed beget change. The effect is one of wryly humorous reality—it works.

I am delighted that the author did not choose a 'conventionally' happy ending, that she created a complex, dynamic female character (whether I would be her friend, I cannot say. But she is not one-dimensional) and that she abstained from moralizing her character's choices and experiences. And I was gently, soberly, realistically appreciative of the author's patience in revealing and discovering—to the reader as well as to Jarvis—the sometimes painful characteristics that defined Jarvis' marriage. Attenberg demonstrated marvelous control in her careful spinning forth of detail and revelation. An impressive first novel.

Disclaimer for transparency's sake: I am not calling this book chick lit, and I am not disparaging chick lit. This is certainly a book that will, generally, appeal to women and I—academic, grad student snob that I am—admit that the first thing I think when I see a fictional work whose primary market will be women is: "Hm? Where will this fit? Will this fit into a chick lit spectrum?"

Written by: kristina grob, April 26th 2009