I’m going to admit something shocking.  I read “The Nanny Diaries.” I did.  It was just sitting there on the bookshelf and, having never read a Chick Lit novel (not even “Bridget Jones’s Diary”), I decided to give it a go.  Ironically, it was my boyfriend’s copy.  Mike’s a sensitive guy…and he had to read “The Nanny Diaries” for a class in college.  A class on Chick Lit.  Yes, folks, Chick Lit is indeed taught for college credit.

But perhaps I should retract some of my disdain.  Many people believe Chick Lit to be the modern incarnation of Jane Austen, which is why universities are beginning to teach it.  I can understand that.  Both Jane Austen and Chick Lit novels deal with the concerns of women contemporaneous to their publications (although they are the concerns of only some women, not all).  That, I suppose, redeems Chick Lit from an anthropological perspective.

What bothers me about Chick Lit, however, isn’t always the subject matter, although I do think the books could be more challenging in how they explore the lives of contemporary women.  I just don’t like how they’re written.  They’re too plot-focused, like TV sitcoms.  For example, in “The Nanny Diaries,” the narrator’s romantic relationship begins with the line, “AAAAHHH!!! HE’S KISSING ME!!!” No description of the kiss, no description of the kisser – no internal thoughts of the narrator besides that screaming string of capital letters.  This scene has so much potential, yet the emotion is expressed only through the author’s keyboard. 

Austen could express emotion.  She didn’t need to rely on caps.  And although Austen novels always end in marriage, they are rife with wit and commentary on contemporary gender issues.  So in that respect, Chick Lit has nothing on Austen. 

I don’t want to hate Chick Lit, but so far it’s been hard.  I’m waiting for a Chick Lit book that’s better written, that (gasp!) doesn’t end with the character finding a husband or boyfriend.  Would that be so revolutionary?