Day 24 Chick Lit and the Curse of the Book Deal

Chick Lit and the Curse of the Book Deal

Chick lit is the rather derogatory term used to describe books which consist of heroine-centred narratives that focus on the trials and tribulations of their individual female protagonists. It is designed to appeal to women. It addresses issues of modern womanhood humorously and light-heartedly.

Why is there no equivalent name for books which consist of hero-centred narratives that focus on the trials and tribulations of their individual male protagonists, that are designed to appeal to men and that address modern manhood humorously and light-heartedly?

I am now going to make a couple of sweeping generalisations that I know are not one hundred percent true, but they are true enough for the purposes of my argument.

1.    There are very few hero-centred narratives that focus on the trials and tribulations of their individual protagonists.

2.    There are very few hero-centred narratives designed to appeal to men that address modern manhood humorously and light-heartedly.

I am not talking here about the majority of books with male protagonists that are designed to appeal to both men and women. I am talking about the sort of books, that, on the whole, women don’t read.

Blokey books, designed to appeal to the male audience, are predominantly about male feats of sexual prowess, strength and/or cunning and are mostly deadly serious, although they may give lip service to tongue-in-the cheek. (Is that physically possible?) I suppose we could call them Cock Lit, but advertisers probably wouldn’t go for it.

Cock Lit and Chick Lit have completely different aims. Cock Lit is there to build up the male ego, Rambo as role model. Chick Lit allows women to explore their lives and the impossibility of combining the roles of Superwoman, Sex Goddess and Earth Mother into one, as they might perceive it, inadequate, body. Almost all them deal with the failure to live up to this false ideal, but failure is funny, failure teaches you how to cope, failure is part of life, so let’s learn to live with it and laugh.

Cock Lit is not designed for the likes of me, so I have nothing more to say about it.

Let’s look at Chick Lit. They may not be great literature, but some of them are very good and as a result, very popular. In that lies their downfall, because publishers are very greedy. A new novelist comes along and produces a bright, funny, original novel and actually manages to get it published. It does well and the publisher, anxious to keep this popular money spinner in-house, offers the author (who has probably struggled for years to get noticed) a book deal – sign on the dotted line and we will make you rich and famous beyond your wildest dreams. All you have to do is:

1.    Churn out a book a year for X number of years

2.    Keep to your winning formula (because we know it sells)

3.    When you have finished this year’s book, start promoting it – the book-signing tour, book festivals, interviews, Hello magazine etc

Then it is time to start writing the next one.

Nine times out of ten, the inevitable happens. The writer runs out of steam. All originality flies away and we are left with a formulaic story where all that changes are the names of the characters, their jobs and their hobbies.

One well known writer, whose first three books were great fun, has in recent years given us heroines who exhibit at the Chelsea Flower Show, become antiques auctioneers, run BandBs, weave, pot, enter Masterchef, restore dilapidated mansions etc. The research hangs heavily on the narrative.

However, the stories are virtually identical and so are the characters – all the heroines are ditzy, unworldly and yet beneath the mess and chaos, beautiful. Some vile man has damaged them in the past, so they have an inhibition of some variety. There is a suave handsome, successful guy (villain), a more homely (yet wildly attractive) fella (hero), a bitch (often the mother or older sister). An obstacle is thrown in our heroine’s way, yet against all the odds she triumphs.

Big yawn.

I looked at the work of twenty of the top Chick Lit writers who have written more than three books. Three of them are still producing interesting original work, about six of them are treading water. The rest are no longer worth reading, even though they had started really well. Their originality has been exhausted. They have no new experiences to feed our imaginations.

Publishers should recognise that good writers are not machines. They need to live life and refuel. Some of them may only have three good books in them.

Accept it, please, and stop publishing dross.

It is interesting that in other genre forms such as crime, sci-fi and fantasy, the reverse seems to be happening and the books get better and better.

That needs thinking about.

 

Food

I didn’t feel like cooking today, so I ate one of my emergency supplies from the freezer – a Waitrose No 1 Herefordshire beef hamburger.

It was vile.

An indication of how vile: when I had eaten all I could stomach, I put my plate on the floor. Two of the cats rushed up, sniffed, turned and shook their back legs at the plate. There is no higher expression of disgust.

Serves me right for being lazy.

Music

Claudio Arrau plays Beethoven's  Andante favori,

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lIrnkYLIaV0

Georgiana Darcy played this after dinner at Pemberley while Elizabeth was falling in love with Darcy in the BBC’s version of Pride and Prejudice.

 

Today’s Picture

The Kiss, Gustav Klimt, 1907/8

Is Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss the archetype of tenderness and passion?

Or does Klimt in fact portray a scene of male dominance.

This argument was put forward by a feminist critic:

The woman in The Kiss seems passive, not sharing the man’s desire. The position of her hands also indicates that she is not participating willingly in the embrace. Her closed right hand falls short of an embrace, while her left hand appears to pull away his hand.

Since reading this I have been studying her hands closely and I find I disagree. I think they are depicting tenderness. I think passion is being met by tenderness.

What do you think?