stupid girl (chick lit)

[originally posted on myspace on August 20, 2008, Wednesday)]

I temporarily gave up on reading my beatnik women memoirs (because they were very analytic and depressing, save that for another post) and read two (two!) chick lit books loaned by N. Mostly out of boredom. So, let's bitch about books!

I started with Getting Warmer (by Carol Snow, 2007), which was kind of cute. It's about a pathological liar (but in a cute way) who has wacky misadventures at work, with friends and (of course) with a guy. I did skim the last couple chapters, because you knew despite all the "bad" events (wackiness unraveling) that happened would be neatly wrapped up by the end. But, it was light, easy to read and not hung up in names, which I suppose is chick lit (and how come brainless literature is associated with women?).

Then I read Everyone Worth Knowing (by Lauren Weisberger, 2006), mostly because the same author wrote the Devil Wears Prada (which I didn't read but I kind of liked the movie). It's a huge book and the author just throws characters at you left and right. I just didn't care enough to keep track of who was who. And then the name drops and label conscious paragraphs (which I've mentioned before)…

Long ago, when I was a child, I used to read all my dad's magazines (I was an odd child). I remember once he got some sort of business magazine and the article on the back page (for some reason, this has stuck with me through the years) was about how to properly reference product names in writing. For example, the article told a story about a housewife running around – one version with generics (such as "facial tissue") and one version with brand names ("Kleenex©" – yes, they had copyrights and trademarks after every name). I don't remember if the point was about copyright issues or how to make a story relatable by using brands the reader knows. Anyway…when I read it, I thought it was a cool concept (I was also probably 6 at the time), that real brands could exist in a fictional world.

But, I hate that (most) chick lit is lugged down with luxury brands, crap most people can't afford (or really, shouldn't want or aspire to afford…I mean shoes for a few thousand?), a kind of brand name porn for women. Blame Sex in the City. This book was just bogged down with names and (I guess) "hip" places in New York City. Ugh. The sad thing was that it was a decent story line (lady quits boring job to work in PR firm, has to pretend to date this guy for the favorable PR, falls for a club bouncer…then it gets into she realizes who her true friends are preachiness, blah). Overall, the book aggravated me. And poor N, she spent $24.99 on it.

So, I decided to try (what I thought would be) an "anti-chick lit" book, Veronica (by Mary Gaitskill, 2005). The book came highly recommended (from real fiction readers, not chick lit fans) and it sounded good. Two friends, 1980s modeling scene, drugs, partying, etc. I was so disappointed by this book. It was incredibly difficult to settle into and even then, if you could get a few chapters in, things didn't make sense. The narrator (who apparently has some drug residue on the brain) reminisces yet springs forward to the now, sometimes mid-paragraph and while it sounds like a good writing technique, the execution failed miserably. In the end, you get a story that is hard to follow (filled with disease, blugh) about characters you don't even care about, hell, that you start to hate after awhile because they can't be followed. I'm up for a challenging read, but this storyline didn't even reward you for the attempt. The narrator was supposed to be poetic and stream of consciousness, but it just came off clunky and unapproachable. I gave up on it half way through and try as I might, I don't care to continue reading it. I haven't even skipped to the last chapter to see how things turn out (because I don't care and because, judging by the odd pacing of the book, the last chapter will probably provide no wrap up).

I have All We Wanted Was Everything (by Janelle Brown, 2008) on my to read next pile (but I am worried the book won't live up to the hype), but, first, to make up for all this fluff reading, I am currently plodding through The Working Poor: Invisible in America (by David Shipler, 2005), which essentially features case studies of different low income workers, ranging from Wal-Mart employees to sweatshop workers (and some economic and government analysis). So far, so good (but the author really likes to harp on the fact that spoiled American consumers need to understand how their goods get made). I mostly bought it because I was so disappointed by Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America (by Barbara Ehrenreich, 2008).

Did I mention that yet? I don't think so. I heard so much praise over Nickel and Dimed that I couldn't wait to read it. Essentially, it is a true story about a newspaper columnist/writer who went "undercover" to work minimum wage jobs. Again, fantastic concept, horrible execution.

My biggest problem is (I know, I was surprised at myself) that the author seemed to really pick on Wal-Mart. Everywhere else she worked got a generic name (I swear this one place she worked sounded like a Denny's but she called it Bobby's –something like that – I read this book six months or more ago, so little details are out of my brain), but Wal-Mart was flat out called Wal-Mart. I mean, be consistent. If you are going to use false names, use false names. Anyway, the other thing that bothered me is that the author was clueless. I suppose she lived a sheltered, cocooned life, but, I mean, she was surprised to learn minimum wage jobs were hard (duh), surprised to learn such jobs do drug testing (duuuh). She had an elitist attitude during the book and always seemed to keep herself separate from the jobs and the co-workers, which, I suppose (to some) it just proves you can never truly assimilate. But I think her attitude just encourages the stereotype that the "poor" (aka the working lower to lower-middle class on minimum wage, or not academic level, jobs) are different from you and I. No, they aren't. And in this economy, a sheltered professional could easily find herself out on her ass and having to take any job that would take her.