when critics (professional or otherwise) rip into Chick Lit, what they’re really scoffing at most of the time isn’t the worn cliches, the puerile plots, or the graceless prosody, it’s women. . . . most of the people who pooh-pooh it . . . are being distracted from getting at what’s really wrong with the genre. It isn’t the writing, the packaging, or even the genre — it’s the way these books deal, and fail to deal, with gender.
(Via Jen Kirwin at the Cupcake blog.)
during an interview Handler gleefully traffics in gossip about a lesbian anal-sex expert, makes jokes about performing a burlesque act, and starts in on ruinous American foreign policy. . . . At 34, he has the unbridled energy and mien of a big kid, and is given to frequent hiccups of laughter. Unusually for a writer, he adores performing, and knows how to work crowds like an old-fashioned preacher, alternatively teasing and then fulfilling their expectations.