It is raining cats and dogs here right now. Okay: not real animals. But we’ve gotten about three inches since I woke up this morning, no joke. Not that I can really see my rain gauge. It’s raining too hard.
If I didn’t have a baby that needs constant supervision and entertaining, it would be a GREAT day to stay in bed and read. I’m especially in the mood because I am in the middle of a REALLY good book, which I honestly feel is, like, calling me all day long, but I can only get to it in bits and spurts. It’s the newest by Jennifer Belle, called Little Stalker, and because it’s been awhile since I’ve read her work, I’d forgotten how great an author she is. Her style is COMPLETELY unique, which I think is probably the highest compliment you can pay a writer these days. If you haven’t read her other books, Going Down and High Maintenance, I highly recommend them as well.
Now it’s thundering. Good gracious, what’s next? An ark?
In related news (to books, not arks) I did an interview the other day where I was asked what I thought of the label “chick lit” and how it’s applied to my books. It’s an interesting question. The truth is, I feel like the label “chick lit” is kind of lazy. It’s a way of grouping any book about a woman which has NOT been classified by the Powers That Be as Literary into one incredibly vast category. Personally, I love books about women, Literary and not, and I’ve read enough to them to know that one word cannot possibly define everything that is out there. Is Jennifer Weiner
the same as Meg Cabot who is the same as Suzanne Finnamore who is the same as Jennifer Belle? No, no, no and no. It’s like saying that all YA books are the same because they are about teenagers. I think, personally, that it’s up to you as a reader to define what a book is to you. It’s different for everyone. Which is a great thing, and really what reading is all about, anyway.
Okay, I’ll get off my soapbox now. Mostly because I think rain is coming through my door onto my floor. Uh-oh….