Paperback Reader

Is it true? All her life she's thought that she was fun to be around, that people liked her. Was it only because she was pretty (say it — because she's got incredible breasts)? Or is Pam, tired of playing second fiddle, now playing her? All Scarlett knows is that she's never found the man she believes is out there, her One True Love. So maybe Scarlett needs to change things up.

So it's goodbye, Scarlett and hello, dowdier, schlumpier Lettie Shaw. And with her new look, new name, new home, and new job, is there a chance that Lettie-nee-Scarlett will find someone who loves her for who she is inside? Or has Scarlett's little change of face turned into the biggest mistake of her life?

Thriller scribe Sophie Katz is as hard-boiled as a woman who drinks Grande Caramel Brownie Frappuccinos can be — maybe it's from a lifetime of fielding dumb comments about her half-black, half-Jewish ethnicity. ("My sister married a Polynesian! I just love your culture!") So Sophie knows it's not paranoia, or post-divorce, living-alone-again jitters, when she becomes convinced that a crazed reader is sneaking into her apartment to reenact scenes from her books. The police, however, can't tell a good plot from an unmarked grave.

When a filmmaker friend is brutally murdered in the manner of a death scene in one of his movies, Sophie becomes convinced that a copycat killer is on the loose — and that she's the next target. If she doesn't solve the mystery, her own bestseller will spell out her doom. Cursing her imagination (why, oh, why did she have to pick the axe?), Sophie engages in some real-life gumshoe tactics. The man who swoops in to save her in dark alleys at night is mysterious new love interest Anatoly Darinsky. Of course, if this were fiction, Anatoly would be her prime suspect . . .

It’s a given that there is a special level of Dante’s Inferno for book reviewers that reveal key plot points and endings. Generally, Minos’ fierce tail should be avoided at all costs, but there is something special enough about the last few pages of Lara Rios’ Becoming Latina in 10 Easy Steps that bears exposing: the story is self contained; the heroine’s journey actually ends on the last page. Remember books like that? Books where the plot’s beginning, middle and end could be found between the covers of one book and not a series of books? Remember when it was standard fare to see favorite characters off to their happily-ever-after and know that they stayed there save for possible brief cameos in their siblings’ and friends’ stories? Apparently Lara Rios remembers those books and wasn’t afraid to write one herself. More like her, please.

HelenKay: Loving a new author can be a dangerous thing. You hear about a book, take a risk and buy a hardcover by an unknown, enjoy the debut, recommend the book to everyone you know and sit to wait not-so-patiently for the next in the series to arrive in the bookstores. When that second book arrives, you're excited and a bit apprehensive. The worry? Book #2 may not live up to Book #1. The release of Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights carried with it that level of excitement and that twinge of danger. It is the follow-up and second in a series by new author Kyra Davis. Her first, Sex, Murder And A Double Latte, was one of those books. One hyped and highlighted in magazines and Big Newspaper reviews. Davis' first book hit the shelves with a significant amount of fanfare and excitement. Passion, Betrayal And Killer Highlights enjoyed a quieter release but one still highly anticipated. The good news is that Davis' second book does not disappoint.

Have you heard? Chick lit is dead. The plucky heroine? Over. Tales of life among the single in the big city? Gone the way of Studio 54; the business records have been seized and threats of jail time for tax evasion loom. Variety, a publication devoted to reporting about the film industry, said so. They even used phrases like “as out of style as last year’s Jimmy Choos” and “jumped the shark.” The focus of contemporary women’s literature, Variety claims, is a more grown up, post-Sex and the City phase of life, the literary equivalent of “disco sucks.” Can any of this be true? Is it safe to trust a Hollywood publication’s take on publishing? Sure, if you don’t mind following pronouncements that are so far behind the curve that what they declare as old has had time to become new again.

It is into this 70s-like hangover that Liz Ireland’s The Pink Ghetto arrives complete with its plucky twenty-something heroine, who lives in New York, works as a book editor and is chronically unlucky in love. It’s almost like the “chick lit is dead” memo didn’t get wide circulation, or more likely well written stories continue to be published in defiance of trend watchers.

I am, or so I believe, a great proponent of escapist fiction. I’m not particularly opposed to reality in my fiction, but it’s not really a big issue for me. If I can, for example, settle into a coach seat during an east-to-west coast flight, open my book, and not notice “Everybody Loves Raymond” on the monitor, it’s a good flight for me.

So, yeah, when I was anticipating the flight home from Washington DC after BEA, I sorted through my loot for the perfect escapist read. Being one who found the first “Shopaholic” book quite entertaining, I chose Cocktails For Three by Madeleine Wickham aka Sophie Kinsella to be the book in my lap as we taxied down the runway. Alas, I should have recalled that the subsequent Shopaholic books were lacking that certain je ne sais quoi.

Which is to say that I found them unreadable.

HelenKay: Bad break-ups are nothing new in romance and chick lit novels. Loser males dump these strong, smart and vibrant women all the time. Just as often (if not more so) these strong, smart and vibrant women dump their loser male mates after finding them naked and horizontal with the Maid of Honor/woman's best friend/woman's younger sister. The action then picks up at the dump or post-dump and follows the woman as she struggles to find a new life and new love in a world seemingly filled with male losers.

A book titled Your Big Break suggests the ultimate in dumping books. In some ways, it is. It follows the life and career of Dani Myers as she navigates through a world of unwanted relationships. The difference here is that Dani plays the role of professional dumper, not dumpee.

Romance and chick lit are not art forms that succeed or fail on originality. Readers and authors alike might chafe at the notion that every romance is the same, save for the hair color of the hero and heroine, and one chick lit novel is only distinguishable from another by the shade of pink on the cover, but those sentiments hold a lot of truth, even if the verbiage is meant to demean. And that truth -- that plotlines like Cinderella’s maid to princess tale are told over and over again -- is really OK. Really. There is a certain comfort in knowing what a book holds before the first page is read. What isn’t known, and where romance and chick lit have the opportunity to succeed or fail, is with what each author will bring to well used constructs. It’s the reworking of the familiar and injection of freshness into the staid that makes a twice (or more) told tale something that stands out. Without those elements, romance and chick lit become caricatures of themselves.

Alesia Holliday’s Seven Ways to Lose Your Lover is intended as a lighthearted romp through the minefield of personals relationships. Its goal isn’t any loftier than to entertain. The end result is decidedly mixed, as it’s too easy to see the well worn elements and not easy enough to see the freshness.

Chicklit gets a bad rap because over-zealous acquisitions editors went crazy with “single girl looking for love and high-paying jobs in the city” stories. The commensurate market saturation left a bad taste in many a reader’s mouth (not to mention creating much fodder for dissing an entire genre). I suspect a lot of readers were like me – desperately seeking fiction with a romantic edge, realistic stories, and smart writing (oh, for more smart writing).

I suspect a lot of readers were like me and dropped out of chicklit game because finding the good was damn hard work.

I dedicate this review to those readers. There is hope.

These days it’s difficult to trip over a pink covered book without hearing talk of chick lit’s death. But, how fatal is this death? Is it the same sort of plague westerns fell victim to, when a genre that was once all powerful disappeared from bookstore shelves? Or, is it more like the nuclear winter Hair Bands of the 80s faced when a glut of pretty boy groups perished under Seattle’s influence with only a couple of bands proving to have talent and staying power?

What hope is there for this admittedly bloated genre of fiction? While the one-thousandth retelling of a plucky single girl in the city, who drinks trendy cocktails and lusts after an obvious cad doesn’t hold appeal, the much boarder spectrum of chick lit does. There are still stories to be told, and, quite simply, there is a need for a fictional medium for irreverent young women and the third wave feminism issues they face.

Through what can only be viewed as a quirk of fate, I found myself in a situation where there were only two books on my desk. Setting aside the fact that someone cleaned my personal space without my express permission – I am now unable to find anything – I was in a quandary. It was time to select my next review vict— book. Choices? A book called Viva Las Bad Boys! versus a book called Scoop.

For professional as well as personal reasons, I went with the latter book.

That time of year has arrived. The calendar turned to June 1st and, in response, magazines, newspapers and all types of shows from The View to the ABC morning news began to hand down lists of "Beach Reads" for us to run out and purchase. While the definition of Beach Read is fuzzy, the basic idea centers on popular fiction softcover books that are easy to read, easy to carry and somewhat easy to forget. The latter suggests being named a Beach Read is a negative thing. Depends. These books tend to generate buzz and big sales. Not bad. After all, not every book needs to be Pulitzer bound and some, like The Men I Didn't Marry, appear to recognize that fact and embrace it.
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There are plot set-ups out there sure to cause an instant reaction...a not-so-good reaction. One could even call it a negative-to-the-point-of-dread reaction. To pick up the book - to pay money for it, especially hardcover money for it - you have to hold tight to the "it's all in the execution" theory. Chant it. Make it your mantra. Believe and hope. After all that, sometimes, like the heroine of The Sleeping Beauty Proposal, all of that hard work pays off.