Chapter One
Introduction
Who needs a book of etiquette? Everyone does.
âAmy Vanderbiltâs Complete Book of Etiquette:
A Guide to Gracious Living (1952)
In British author Helen Fieldingâs 1996 popular novel Bridget Jonesâs Diary, the author describes the primping and prepping that her heroine undergoes before her first date with her boss Daniel Cleaver. Bridget reflects:
Ugh. Completely exhausted. Surely it is not normal to be revising for a date as if it were a job interview? . . . Since leaving work I have nearly slipped a disc, wheezing through a step aerobics class, scratched my naked body for seven minutes with a stiff brush; cleaned the flat; filled the fridge; plucked my eyebrows, skimmed the papers and the Ultimate Sex Guide, put the washing in and waxed my own legs, since it was too late to book an appointment. Ended up kneeling on a towel trying to pull off a wax strip firmly stuck to the back of my calf while watching Newsnight in an effort to drum up some interesting opinions about things. My back hurts, my head aches, and my legs are bright red and covered in lumps of wax. (59)1
Though in the paragraph that follows Bridget acknowledges âDaniel should like me just as I am,â she also notes, âI am a child of Cosmopolitan culture . . . traumatized by supermodels and too many quizzes and know that neither my personality nor my body is up to it if left to its own devicesâ (59). Bridgetâs observation, along with her pre-date actions, reveals the pervasive hold that womenâs magazines have upon her life. As a âchild of Cosmopolitan culture,â Bridget subscribes to advice that encourages women to perfect their bodies through such beauty regimens as exercise, exfoliation, and waxing. Only after perfecting her body according to Cosmopolitan magazine standards will she be acceptable for her date.
Bridgetâs remarks in this passage reveal just how heavily she relies on the advice of others. Not only does she consult Cosmopolitan, but she also reads The Ultimate Sex Guide as well as the papers and watches Newsnight, hoping to glean information that will perfect both her body and mind. Bridget cannot seem to believe that Daniel will like her just as she is because she consistently consults texts that tell her he cannot. Being âa child of Cosmopolitan culture,â then, becomes metaphoric for the hold that consumer culture mediums from magazines to self-help books have upon Bridgetâs life. Bridget struggles to determine what advice she should follow and what advice she should disregard, and subsequently, a central theme of Bridget Jonesâs Diary becomes Bridgetâs (in)ability to navigate these controlling texts. In this passage and throughout her novel, Fielding creates a complicated and contested representation of the reader/text relationship and comments, ironically, on both women characters and readers as consumers.
Bridget Jonesâs Diary is just one of many texts from the recent literary phenomenon popularly known as chick lit which dialogues with consumer culture mediums, particularly womenâs advice manuals.2 Loosely defined, chick lit, which arguably began with Fieldingâs text, consists of heroine-centered narratives that focus on the trials and tribulations of their individual protagonists.3 At its onset, the genre was narrowly defined in that the protagonists depicted in these texts were young, single, white, heterosexual, British and American women in their late twenties and early thirties, living in metropolitan areas. Very often, these protagonists not only mirror the authors of these texts, but they also reflect the demographic of their reading audience, connecting the texts directly to their readers. Additionally, chick lit seeks to unite readers across genre lines, by both grounding themselves in nineteenth-century, heroine-centered literature and by dialoguing with various twenty-first century consumer culture mediums, particularly womenâs advice manuals. For these reasons, among others, the genre, as Suzanne Ferriss and Mallory Young note in the introduction to their collection of essays, Chick Lit: The New Womanâs Fiction, has experienced âamazing commercial success. [It] has been called a âcommercial tsunamiâ â (2).4 They continue, referencing Heather Cabotâs 2003 article for abcnews.com entitled âChick Lit: Genre Aimed at Women Is Fueling Publishing Industryâ which indicated that âIn 2002, for instance, chick-lit books earned publishers more than $71 millionâ (2). Largely, because of this commercial viability, the demographic for chick lit has grown; it now chronicles the lives of women of varying ages, races, and nationalities.5 And, not only has the demographic expanded, but also chick lit texts have been adapted for television, the film industry, and the World Wide Web. For instance, Candace Bushnellâs Sex and the City was adapted for television; running on HBO from 1998â2004, and in America, it is currently re-running on the CW network. Helen Fieldingâs novel was released as a feature film of the same title in 2001. And, Sherrie Krantzâs The Autobiography of Vivian Livingston (2002) began as a website, Vivianlives.com.
Despite this immense popularity with readers, however, chick lit texts have been heavily criticized by reviewers of the individual novels and literary critics alike. In her review of Bridget Jonesâs Diary for the New York Times entitled âDear Diary: Get Real,â Alex Kuczynski declares, âBridget is such a sorry spectacle, wallowing in her man-crazed helplessness, that her foolishness cannot be excusedâ (6) while Scarlett Thomas wrote in the Independent, âChick lit is not just bad for the readerâit is bad for the author too.â In the most highly publicized criticism of the genre, author Doris Lessing echoed Beryl Bainbridgeâs sentiments and pronounced chick lit â âinstantly forgettableâ â on the BBC Radio 4âs Today program which aired on August 23, 2001 (âBainbridge denounces chick-lit as frothâ). Bainbridge, the six-time, Booker Prize shortlist recipient, declared that the genre represents âa froth sort of thing,â and she asked, â âWhat is the point in writing a whole novel about it? . . . As people spend so little time reading, it is a pity they perhaps canât read something a bit deeper, a bit more profound, something with a bit of bite to itâ â (âBainbridge denounces chick-lit as âfrothâ â). Three-time, Booker Prize shortlist recipient Doris Lessing concurred, âItâs a pity that so many young women are writing like that. I wonder if they are just writing like this because they think they are going to get published . . . It would be better, perhaps, if they wrote books about their lives as they really saw them and not these helpless girls, drunken, worrying about their weight and so onâ â (âBainbridge denounces chick-lit as âfrothâ â).
Bainbridge and Lessingâs conversation spurred subsequent, sensational media headlines that explored the state of contemporary womenâs popular fiction. The Times asked, âBe Honest With Me, Do My Literary Pretensions Look Big in This?â while the Guardian announced âReal Lives: We Know the Difference Between Foie Grass and Hula Hoops, Beryl, but Sometimes We Just Want Hula Hoops.â6 The Sunday Telegraph decried, âNo Wonder Berylâs Cross. Bainbridge, et al. Wanted Boadiceas. Instead Theyâve Got Posh Spice.â7 Media critics and chick lit authors, in turn, rushed to the genreâs defense. Jenny Colgan, author of such chick lit novels as Amandaâs Wedding (1999) and West End Girls (2006), responded, criticizing Bainbridge for her comments which imply âthat . . . young women are too: ditzy/fizzy/stupid/ drunken/man-crazed to a) write books and b) read themâ (âReal Lives: We Know the Difference Between Foie Gras and Hula Hoops, Beryl, but Sometimes We Just Want Hula Hoopsâ). Author Matt Thorne agreed, â âPeople who are dismissive of chick lit are misogynistic and elitist . . . Chick lit is a perfectly acceptable genre, no different from âliterary fiction.â The best writers in the genre are producing some of the best writing around todayâ â (qt. in Thomas).
Though this critical discussion helped to bring chick lit to the forefront of public consciousness, the debate was reductive in so far as it preoccupied itself with what Jean Radford, editor of The Progress of Romance: The Politics of Popular Fiction, deems âthe [criticsâ] same obsessive concern with the problem of valueâ (7). In the past, critics have been reluctant to take popular fiction seriously, and, as Radford and other feminist critics have concurred, all too often literary critics are quick to label womenâs fiction as low art, a term which, by default, often denies any thoughtful consideration of that art. Deemed â âfeeble and tiresomeâ â by Nathaniel Hawthorne in 1852 (Massie and Francassini), âsillyâ by George Eliot in 1856 (Eliot), â âfrothâ â by Beryl Bainbridge in 2001 (âBainbridge denounces chick-lit as âfrothâ â), and â âgarbageâ â (Weinberg) by a random man that writer Anna Weinberg encounters on a train out of New York City in 2003, womenâs novels have been disparaged throughout the centuries.8 Chick lit, then, becomes an easy target for the criticsâ derision, relegated to both subordinated spacesâthe popular and the female.
As a result, chick lit, like the sentimental novels of the nineteenth century and the paperback romance novels of the 1980s, has not been a genre that literary critics have immediately embraced. While the mainstream media has been quick to take up the subject of these young, single, working women, the academic community has been slower to respond.9 Of late, there has been increased scholarly interest, including articles such as Kelly A. Marshâs âContextualizing Bridget Jonesâ from College Literature and Jessica Lyn Van Slootenâs âA Truth Universally (Un)Acknowledged: Ally McBeal, Bridget Jonesâs Diary, and the Conflict Between Romantic Love and Feminismâ from Elwood Watsonâs collection of critical essays, Searching the Soul of Ally McBeal. Additionally, Imelda Whelehan who wrote Helen Fieldingâs Bridget Jonesâs Diary: A Readerâs Guide has also produced an article entitled, âSex and the Single Girl: Helen Fielding, Erica Jong and Helen Gurley Brownâ and has written The Feminist Bestseller: From Sex and the Single Girl to Sex and the City, which chronicles the history of womenâs popular fiction, focusing specifically on, and making connections between, the fiction of the 1960s and 1970s and the chick lit boom of today. Chick lit has also been the topic of several graduate theses in England, America, and Hong Kong, and it is finding a place in the undergraduate classroom as well.10 In an article entitled âChick Lit 101â for the Fall 2006 edition of NWSAction, Brenda Bethman notes that âboth Harvard and Tania Modleski (at the University of Southern California) are offering courses that at least partially engage with chick lit, indication that the study of the genre is gaining more respectabilityâ (12). Perhaps the most comprehensive study of the genre comes with the publication of Suzanne Ferriss and Mallory Youngâs collection of essays, Chick Lit: The New Womanâs Fiction, which contains fourteen essays on chick lit texts such as Bridget Jonesâs Diary, Sophie Kinsellaâs Shopaholic series, and Candace Bushnellâs Sex and the City (1996). The collection covers such common chick lit themes as eating, shopping, and female sexuality, and several of its essays engage with more recent chick lit sub-genres such as mommy lit and chick lit for teenagers.
Still, there has not been a single, comprehensive study of the genre to date, and, more specifically, one which examines the nuanced way that chick lit engages with consumer culture mediums, particularly womenâs advice manuals, such as womenâs magazines, self-help books, romantic comedies, and/or domestic-advice manuals, despite the fact that the genre references and responds to these manuals in varied ways.11 In the passage above from Bridget Jonesâs Diary, we see how Bridget continually compares herself to the ideal offered by womenâs magazines while Melissa Bankâs Jane Rosenal (The Girlsâ Guide to Hunting and Fishing, 1999) reads a dating, self-help book in the hopes of finding a man. Carol Wolperâs narrator from The Cigarette Girl (1999), a screenwriter of action films, puzzles over the fact that her life does not follow the simple plotline of a romantic comedy. And, Helen Bradshaw, of Anna Maxtedâs Getting Over It (2000), consults home decorating magazines and catalogues in an attempt to construct the ideal home for herself. These consumer culture mediums, however, are more than just present in the text. Rather, these mediums heavily influence the protagonists of these texts, dictating to them expected feminine behaviors and ideals that they should attempt to achieve. In many of these novels, chick lit writers establish the behavioral guideline or standard for their protagonists to follow by including references to the explicit advice offered by womenâs magazines, self-help books, and domestic-advice manuals and the more implicit advice for women conveyed through romantic comedies. In doing so, chick lit authors present complex representations of young, single women as both readers and consumers.
Cosmopolitan Culture and Consumerism in Chick Lit demonstrates how these texts question the âconsume and achieveâ promise offered by these womenâs advice manuals and in doing so challenge the consumer industry to which they are closely linked. Through their narrative structure and their depictions of discerning female readers and consumers, chick lit authors create fictionalized instructional guides that problematize the ideologies offered by the advice manuals their characters read. Chick lit authors, then, respond in varied ways to the manuals they reference, and in doing so, complicate the readersâ expectations about female consumption, women readers, womenâs writing, and popular fiction. More specifically, Cosmopolitan Culture and Consumerism in Chick Lit examines chick lit texts from the genreâs early period, beginning with an analysis of Helen Fieldingâs novel (1996) and concluding with an examination of Sherrie Krantzâs The Autobiography of Vivian Livingston (2002), pairing, in each chapter, these chick lit texts with the womenâs advice literature to which they respond.
Chick lit, like other literary movements, is a historically situated genre. In their introduction, Ferriss and Young cite Heather Cabotâs 2003 article âChick Lit: Genre Aimed at Young Women Is Fueling Publishing Industryâ for abcnews.com. In the article, Cabot quotes Jennifer Weiner, author of chick lit texts such as Good in Bed (2001) and In Her Shoes (2002). Weiner comments that there is â âan authenticity frequently missing from womenâs fiction of the past . . . I think that for a long time, what women were getting were sort of the Jackie Collins, Judith Krantz booksâsex and shopping, glitz and glamour, heroines that were fun to read about, but just felt nothing like where you were in your lifeâ â (qt. in Ferriss and Young 4). Chick lit author Laura Zigman agrees that this need was historically situated as women writers and readers of the late 1990s were looking to write and read texts that validated womenâs experiences:
âIn my heartbroken, urban, single, postfeminist mood I felt like there was a lot going on with women that no one was really talking about . . . We had a lot of freedom and a lot of choices, but there was a price. People were lonely . . . But you would pick up these books and go, Okay, I am not mad, I am not the only loser in the world who feels lonely.â (Weinberg)
This feeling of disconnect prompted women writers like Weiner and Zig-man to begin writing chick lit narratives, which they felt more directly connected to their own experiences. The author bios at the back of chick lit texts serve as evidence of this fact; they emphasize the similarities between the authors, their characters, and their readers. Bank highlights her single status in her author biography, noting that she âlives in New York City with her Labrador retriever, Maybelline,â while Sherrie Krantz emphasizes her own career achievements, a major focus of her protagonistâs quest. Helen Fieldingâs author photograph for the hardcover, 1998 British edition of Bridget Jonesâs Diary even goes so far as to mimic the cover design.12 Both Bridget Jones, on the cover of the novel, and Fielding, on the back of the inside flap, are photographed in profile, smoking cigarettes.
In turn, book publishers responded to this need; as Sarah Bernard explains in âSuccess and the Single Girl,â they began publishing texts with protagonists whose experiences mirrored those of their real-life readers. Bernard quotes Morgan Entrekin, a Gr...