Why I’m Getting Fed Up with Women’s Fiction

I love novels, and as a result, I’ve read my fair share of women’s fiction (or what is more derogatorily referred to as “chick lit”). But recently, I’ve started to feel tired of the genre.

The Post-Birthday World (by Lionel Shriver) played a large part in tipping my scales of sentiment toward irritation. The novel follows a middle-aged woman named Irina through a Sliding-Doors-like drama, in which two possible versions of her life play out. In one version, she cheats on her longtime partner by having an affair with a mutual friend. In the other version, she does not. Throughout the book, the looming question for both reader and protagonist is “Which choice was the right one?”

However, despite the larger implications of this question, there never seems to be an opening for the protagonist to consider her life from an ethical or spiritual point of view. Never does Irina question the larger purpose, meaning or ethical framework of her life. And at no point does she consider whether her life actually makes the world a better place.

Of course I found this aspect of the book callous; Shriver seems to imply that the good decisions are the ones that lead the protagonist to acquire the most for herself: the most professional achievement and the most romantic enjoyment, without the influence of any moral or spiritual framework.

Shriver’s portrayal is also unrealistic. Few people are content to live life without any ethical or spiritual meaning. My guess is that most people, whether their life goals are lofty or humble, want to understand those goals as part of a larger framework of some kind of meaning or purpose.

Then I picked up Jane Green’s Second Chance, and after maybe 100 pages, I had to put it back down. It was too depressing. Like Irina in The Post-Birthday World, the character of Holly in Second Chance seems to have no ethical or spiritual framework for her life, and no interest in the rest of the world. And like Irina, Holly is a middle-aged woman stuck in a seemingly dead-end relationship, and faced with only two choices: stay in unhappy relationship or have affair.

Of course, there is a third option which neither Irina or Holly explore: talking to their partners! Yes, it’s a radical notion in these books that women would assert themselves, insist on being treated better, and listen to their partners’ feelings (or even, gasp!, see a qualified marriage counseling professional). Well, to be fair, maybe Green is going there eventually, but it didn’t look like it from where I left off.

This isn’t to say every relationship can or should be saved. Some relationships, especially those that involve abuse, should be ended as soon as it is possible to do so safely.

My point is about how healthy relationships can be improved. Healthy relationships take some work. Being in a healthy relationship requires one to develop communication skills. Healthy relationships require one to be brave enough to both express one’s deepest self, and allow another person to express theirs. This is the kind of self-development that does deserve a place in women’s literature, but sadly it is too often absent.

On a more hopeful note, there are of course women authors who write entertaining and engaging books while still dealing with larger issues. Two that I’ve enjoyed recently are My Sister’s Keeper (by Jodi Picoult) and Certain Girls (by Jennifer Weiner). While neither of these are great literature, I think they are a marked improvement in terms of portraying female characters who are grappling with moral issues (as in My Sister’s Keeper) or the question of their relationship to the larger world (as in Joy’s portion of Certain Girls).