“Without debating the individual literary merits of Franzen vs. Weiner, Picoult, et al., I think it’s fair to say that there are as many good female writers out there as males, and also fair to say that a sizeable portion of those books written by women have been dismissed as ‘Chick Lit.’ Maybe Eat, Pray, Love has been so successful that many recent books by women that also wander into the realm of relationships have been branded ‘Chick Lit’ by association. Whether or not E,P,L actually fits that genre, reviewers have been tossing the term ‘Chick Lit’ around promiscuously, with a derision that may derive from envy. In any case, it seems any book written by a woman that describes her emotional journey, with some humor along the way, is in danger of being painted with that broad, Bridget Jones make-up brush. I hoped the term ‘Chick Lit’ would’ve blown up with the Sex in the City II suicide bomb, but it seems to linger like bad perfume.

There are, I understand, books that deserve to be called ‘Chick Lit’ — ones in which finding the right Hermes purse counts as a serious plot line, and hair colorists figure in as major characters, developing from chunky highlights to subtle weaves. I don’t know: I’m too busy reading Jennifer Egan, Hilary Thayer Hamann, Vendela Vida, and Mary Karr. But I suspect some reviewers take one look at the pretty cover of a female author’s book, with suspicious praise from Oprah and a few other women’s magazines, and dismiss it as the same kind of fluff.”

—Laura Fraser, for The Daily Beast, on Chick Lit vs. Dude Lit and why bad female novelists get a worse rep than bad male ones. In Dude Lit, of course, you get all the same emotion- and relationship-based drama as in Chick Lit, only everything’s expressed through the healing power of obscure rock banks, there’s a lot more narcissism, and reviewers like it a lot more.