Why is one chick lit better than another?
Just to show I'm not just solving crosswords until my hands hurt, or Googling mentions of "Wordplay" (OK, I'm doing those things, but not exclusively), I finished Lee Nichols' "Tales of a Drama Queen."
The drama queen in this tale is the hapless Elle Medina, who tries to put her life together after it falls apart (her 6-year boyfriend comes back from a business trip in Iowa... married to someone else!). She keeps losing her jobs and housing, she has no money and no prospects. The situations are often preposterous, and they're funny. It held my interest.
This is in direct contrast to the previously commented on (6/15 entry) "Help Wanted, Desperately" by Ariel Horn. Though the subject matter was similar, I really hated that book. It was forced. It was dumb. I cringe just thinking about it.
I suppose I should be applying literary criticism to actual literature, except I don't read any. I was going to pick something more highbrow for my next book, but I'm going with "Primary Colors."