Chick Lit: Essay by Amanda Zieleniewski

The holidays have come and gone, and for those of us in the northern hemisphere, the cold, dark days of January and February will drag along. Those of us living in warmer climates may have more sunshine to brighten the days, but we all share the burdens of assorted life, family and work related issues as we tackle the new year. Fictionista Workshop is pleased to offer this intellectual diversion from those more daunting tasks as we continue our exploration of  chick lit and its place on our bookshelves.

Some of us love chick lit and some of us hate it; Fictionista volunteer Amanda Zieleniewski challenges conventional thinking with her thoughtful view on whether modern concepts of feminism fit into our understanding of the chick lit genre.

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Let it be known that I am not a Nicholas Sparks fan. I suppose that I can’t say that I categorically dislike all of his books, since the closest I’ve ever come to reading one of them is passively skimming my aunt’s copy of The Notebook, but the general impression I’ve gotten is that of a dressed-up romance novel – slightly more than Harlequin, but not exactly in the ballpark of outstanding American literature, either. I have friends who sniffled and sobbed their way through Dear John and, subsequently, suffered an acute case of love unrequited for Channing Tatum in the book’s film adaptation (he was, of course, totally outshined by Amanda Seyfreid, who is the film’s only possessor of actual cinematic talent.). Personally, I would just rather not go there – but that’s just me.

Since Nicholas Sparks has not, to my knowledge, spent much of his time writing about high heels or martinis, I’m probably starting to sound like I got off on the wrong foot – but bear with me. I would like to expand the definition of chick lit to include all modern works of reasonable quality (yes, I’m excluding the entire “Romance” genre) that are published specifically with women in mind. After all, Bridget Jones offers some poignant insight into the way that women see themselves, but she doesn’t complete the whole picture. The truth is that women relate to Bridget Jones, Rebecca Bloomwood and Carrie Bradshaw, but we wouldn’t be reading Twilight if we didn’t (at least secretly) want sullen vampire Edward Cullen to sweep us – entirely against our better judgment – off our feet.

In this big, complex picture of modern woman as portrayed in chick lit, where does feminism fit in? Perhaps chick lit transcends feminism altogether, becoming a sort of post-feminist genre that is totally over tackling issues of women’s equality.

I’m going to be blunt and say that chick lit does not represent post-feminism, because I don’t believe that there is such a thing as post-feminism. Although there certainly are supporters of the idea that feminism is no longer a useful movement, the fact is that feminism is still alive and well. Personally, I think that the feminist movement will no longer be needed when the glass ceiling is broken, the wage gap closes, and a woman sits in the oval office (excluding Sarah Palin – she doesn’t count). I also think that chick lit, if sometimes inadvertently, agrees.

In identifying chick lit as (somewhat) feminist, it’s important to identify what niche of the feminist world it fits into, and that niche is third-wave feminism. Third-wave feminism is the most recently-developed perspective of women’s place in society, which holds that a woman can choose any path in life that she pleases – from stay-at-home mom to CEO – and still be a strong and empowered individual, so long as she is aware that she has the right to choose her own path. This is where my general dislike for fluffy, romantic fiction and my stance that such works can represent a feminist viewpoint come together: even the most lovelorn female protagonist can represent some sort of feminist ideal, so long as she is self-aware. This means that Carrie Bradshaw can bemoan her unsuccessful search for love all she wants and still be a feminist – so long as she knows that her lifestyle is just one of many choices that she has the right to make autonomously.

There is plenty for a feminist to like about what is typically categorized as chick lit, as well. Although the female characters may not exactly display a wide swath of diversity, they are generally not your typical girls-next-door, either. Rebecca Bloomwood is a glamorous fashionista with the ability to write a wildly popular article on finance, even though she is not exactly an expert on the issue (as unlikely a scenario as that may be). She may not be a powerful political leader, and she may not be playing the part that I, personally, would like to see more fictional and real-life women playing, but at least she’s not barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen (not that it would necessarily be unfeminist of a woman to assume that position, but I dare any woman to know that she has the access to personal power and still choose to be completely dominated by a man). Nor is she a starving secretary who falls for the wiles of the boss – she is single, successful and sexy, which may not be the end-all when it comes to female empowerment, but it is certainly true that “We’ve come a long way, baby.”

It has also been suggested that books like Pride and Prejudice constitute chick lit, an assertion that I’m willing to accept, since I don’t know a lot of men who are avid lovers of Austen’s works. Even in these older books, women do not seem to be entirely powerless creatures – after all, Austen’s protagonist does reject Mr. Darcy, at least at first. A woman’s right to reject her male suitor and remain unmarried is also demonstrated in Sparks’ novels, although, to be fair, the notion is not as radical now as it was in Jane Austen’s day. Even so, throughout time, a variety of books have been written with women as their intended audience, featuring female protagonists who know what they want and get it – even if what they want and get is restricted by the expectations of the society in which they live. Today’s chick lit is an especially good example of these strengths, making much of the genre a reflection of modern-day feminist values – whether we like the books or not.