Books I am Reading Now

I am currently reading two novels by women writers. One is entitled Mr. Rosenblum’s list, with a subtitle that is longer than the queues at Heathrow. It is the debut novel of Natasha Solomons. The other is entitled It’s a Man’s World, which also has a subtitle. It is the sixth novel of Polly Courtney, a former investment banker.

Mr Rosenblum’s List is about a Jewish man who arrives in England from Berlin as a refugee, becomes wealthy by hard work and enterprise, and is driven by a desire to assimilate—be like an Englishman. Towards that end he wants to become a member of a golf club. Except that no golf club would have him as a member (because he is Jewish). Undeterred Mr. Rosenblum decides to build his own golf course and buys a cottage and 60 acres of land in rural Dorset.

Mr. Rosenblum’s List has apparently been translated into nine languages. The front page of the paperback edition has a comment from The Times, which described the novel as hilarious. I am almost half-way through the novel, having read 150 of its 310 pages. So far, the novel, while not tedious, is not exactly gripping either. The protagonist Jack is obsessed about building a golf course, helped by a hick from the nearby village. The narrative is not particularly riveting and, while I would like Jack to complete his golf course, the truth is I couldn’t give a toss whether he succeeds or not in his endeavours. He is just not very interesting.  I am also marooned in that section of the novel where there is rather a lot about golf courses and golf-related scenes—about as interesting as watching my moustache grow, as I have zero interest in golf. Jack's wife, Sadie, is a bit more interesting, but her character is not developed sufficiently. (The tedium is not relieved by long and repetitive descriptions of Dorset seasons and the flowers in the region.) Which is a pity. The novel started with the quaintly charming list of means and ways to become English.  I am tempted to throw in the towel, but will probably persevere, seeing as I have only 150 more pages to go. I don’t know what twist in my character compels me to carry on reading novels I don’t find interesting. Not finishing a novel feels like a personal failure (when it ought to be seen as the failure of the writer to write a novel engaging enough to keep the reader interested). At least I didn’t buy the novel, but borrowed it from the library. The book is a bit like Aero chocolates: there is not much substance in it.

I have written on this blog about Polly Courtney when she publically ditched her publishers (Harper Collins) because they had the cheek to promote It’s A Man’s World as a chick-lit, i.e. something frivolous and racy when what Courtney had attempted to do was write a novel on an important social issue with a sombre message. It  interested (and amused) me to see a writer who (from the description provided of said novel seemed like a chick-lit) throwing an apoplectic fit that the publisher promoted it as a chick-lit. It was a bit like a butcher waving a shoulder of lamb and shouting, ‘What? They killed a lamb?’ I had not read It’s A Man’s World at that time (but I didn’t allow such trifles come in the way of banging out a post).

Therefore, when I spotted the novel last week in the library I decided to give it a go.

I have read only the first two chapters of It’s A Man’s World, but already I am finding the novel engaging and reasonably entertaining. It is an easy enough read (partly because so far there are lots of dialogues—which I find easier and quicker to read—rather than descriptions of nature). Also I think I am more keen to find out whether Alexa, the heroine of It’s A Man’s World holds her own as a managing director of a lad’s magazine than whether Jack completes his sodding golf course.  

And yes. It is without doubt chick-lit. 

A Grumpy Chick

A British novelist by the name of Polly Courtney has publicaly ditched her publisher, Harper Collins. Courtney is miffed that Avon, a Harper Collins imprint with which she had signed a three-books deal, decided to ‘shoehorn’ her novel ‘into a place that is not right for it.’  

The place where the publishers believed the novel fitted was women’s fiction. In other words chick lit.

‘The real issue I have,’ Courtney explained (at the launch of the novel, funded, I guess, by the publishers), ‘is it has been completely defined as women’s fiction.’ Which, Courtney will thank us to remember, it most certainly isn't.

What is it then? Lest the readers mistake the novel (entitled incidentally It’s a Man's World) for some gigantic Russian classic that would be a cure for insomnia, Ms Courtney hastens to add, ‘It is not War and Peace.' 

Well, thank f**k for that. Imagine going to Waterstone’s (this shouldn't require too much imagination), spotting It’s A Man’s World, thinking to yourself: this seems exactly the kind of novel like Leo's War and Peace, buying it and rushing home because you can’t wait to find out the impact of the Napoleonic era on Tsarist Russia, and finding out, instead, that it’s about a chick who works in a lad’s magazine and participates in a witty banter. 

What is chick lit anyway? WIkiPedia defines it as genre fiction that addresses issues of modern womanhood, often humorously and light-heartedly.  

What is It’s A Man World about? Not having read the novel I couldn’t be absolutely sure, but according to The Guardian, it follows the life of Alexa Harris who heads a lad’s magazine and is subjected to light-hearted misogyny of her male colleagues and hate campaign of women’s rights activist. 

Does it sound like chick-lit to you? It does to me.

Mind you, I have nothing against the genre of chick-lit fiction; in fact I have nothing against genre fiction at all. Frequently I find that genre fiction is more interesting and entertaining than literary fiction. (Recently I ploughed through two unreadable award winning literary novels: The Road, which won the Pulitzer a few years ago, and The Tiger’s Wife, which won this year’s Orange prize. I usually have a high threshold for crapola, but these two novels crossed it by the width of Siberia.) As for the genre of chick lit I have read a few, which I have enjoyed. I quite liked the first Bridget Jones novel (not its sequel, though), which unleashed an army of Bridgets. I remember enjoying an early Lisa Jewell novel, too, the title of which I forget. These novels were fast-paced, entertaining, had well defined plots, and had witty dialogues, which is more than what you get in a Martin Amis novel (which has witty dialogues but no plot to speak of and progresses at a pace slower than that of a shuffling Parkinsonian victim). I am seriously thinking of borrowing from the library Sophie Kinsella’s Shopaholic Diaries.

It all comes down to connotations and implications. Polly Courtney has nothing against chick lit (she says). But her novel, she insists, is not chick lit. (We have already established that it is not War and Peace either.) Helpfully, Courtney provides us with her definition of chick lit. ‘The implication,’ Courtney says, ‘about chick lit is about a girl wanting to meet the man of her dreams.’ Whereas Polly Courtney’s books, she would like us to note, are about ‘social issues, this time [her most recent novel] about a woman working in a lad’s mag and the impact of media on society and feminism’. And how has Courtney dealt with this weighty social issue? According to her, the novel is ‘commercial and page turning’.

What about the jacket of the novel? It is apparently a chick lit staple. It shows a pair of slender legs in high heels, wrapped in a tight skirt that hides what you suspect is a very shapely ass. 

Courtney, a former investment banker who left the city and self-published her debut novel before she was picked up by Harper Collins, is not happy about the jacket. Her objections are: the jacket is ‘degrading to her writing and ultimately degrading to women. It’s sexist.’ ‘They dressed up my book,’ Courtney complained, ‘as something frivolous, light, and racy, which is the complete opposite of what is inside the books.’ So Alexa Harris, the heroine of It’s A Man’s World, might be working in a lad’s magazine and participate in witty banter with her light-heartedly misogynist male colleagues, but it is a serious book about an important social issue that gives a sombre social message. And it wouldn’t do at all to trivialize it by wrapping the message in a saucy jacket cover (which, heavens forbid, might make all those out there, fans of chick lit, buy it, and millions of copies might be sold), says the woman who, according to her official website, has posted saucy pictures of her poledancing on the Internet.

What we have established is It’s A Man World is a work of fiction about a young woman working in a lad’s magazine and, according to its author, it is commercial, fast paced and page turning.  But the author has a problem with it being labelled as chick lit. It’s a bit like your very popular local Chinese takeaway (which ladles out mouth-watering quantities of grease and mono-sodium glutamate at bargain prices) taking umbrage that it is not awarded a Michelin Star.

We all have pretensions, and, like most pretensions, they serve the function of making the pretenders comfortable.