Here's the Scoop: Nov. 25, 2009
Name of the game
Since Baseball Season ended, Reading Season kicked off for me. I’m not always really choosy about what I read. I like a good mystery or an interesting sale catalog.
Sometimes I’ll pull out some old college reading material to see what I missed back then. I do seem to recall that during college, the words “Happy Hour” translated into: “All that dry reading must be making you thirsty!” I usually didn’t need to be reminded of this twice.
One of those college classics that I recently pulled out after many years was The Adventures of Huckberry Finn. This tale is always fascinating. It’s not, however, easy reading — on any level.
So, once I finished Huck Finn, I was ready for something a bit lighter — a book that I didn’t have to stop sometimes and figure out what language was being spoken.
That’s when I discovered “Chick Lit.” I didn’t actually know I had stumbled across this category of writing until I told a co-worker about a book I had just finished. She responded that it was nice that I had been enjoying Chick Lit.
“I didn’t even know they made that anymore,” I answered.
My co-worker explained to me that Chick Lit is a play on words — and is thus related to the gum that was so popular in my youth. However, the new term refers to a certain style of books written by women.
I considered this for a short time.
“So, do you mean that books on the subject of children’s playthings fall under the heading of Toy Lit?” I asked.
She was not amused by my potty mouth.
We finally got past that part of the discussion and chatted a bit about Chick Lit. I confessed that book I had just read was pretty entertaining.
“Plus, if I read this Chick Lit, I may be able to find out what women find so irritating about men. I can learn from this and make myself a better person,” I explained.
She felt that perhaps I had waited a little too long for such a transformation.
Anyhow, it just so happens that our family had received a bunch of Chick Lit from another friend. So, I started another book, but by a different author. It wasn’t nearly as good — the plot holes rivaled the size of Hummers. And I don’t like those either.
My wife had been reading some heavy stuff over recent months and had also decided to lighten things up with a Chick Lit selection.
After I finished my second book, I was offering my critique. “Well, I really liked the first one, but the second one was lacking. The odd thing was the leading male in each one was named Luke.”
She looked up from her book (different from the ones I had read) and stated, “The hero is also named Luke in this book.”
Considering this, I am hoping these Chick Lit authors can become a little more creative in naming their leading men. Whatever happened to Brad? Or Rock? Or, perhaps Huck?