Good in Bed

Cute chick-lit

There are times when a review of a book does not need to be detailed and pondered upon. This is one of those times.

I loved it. You should read it. Go now.

If only this book doesn't drone on self-pity, maybe I'll consider adding another 2 stars.

But it hits some spot, all right. Larger women, behold.

What's this? Chick Lit here?

Sure, why not?

I've actually read a piece or two lately about how useless the term is, and where people like Franzen or Tropper or Hornby can write about the same themes that appear in the better Chick Lit works and not be dismissed with a label quite as easily. Maybe that's true, probably is. At the same time, it's a label that works pretty well most of the time–and like all genres, the better works don't get the recognition they deserve, but those who are up on things will get rewarded.

Anyway, I do read Chick Lit–at least a couple of titles a year. I'd read more, but I try to be picky. So this weekend, I finally got around to taking my wife's advice and tried Jennifer Weiner's Good in Bed (probably helped by seeing it set forth as an example of the better Chick Lit being ignored in the articles I mentioned). I'm glad I did, and will likely read more of her. Not anytime soon, nothing against her, it'd just take time away from the mysteries I'm binging on lately.

Wow, I'm rambling today, eh?

So on with the book...our protagonist is Candace (but call her Cannie), an entertainment reporter for a Philadelphia newspaper. She's funny, smart, has good taste, a neat dog and is...well, fat. On the whole, she's okay with that–she's healthy and active, and though she's tried a few diets/diet programs, none of them has stuck. Still, overall, she has a nice life. Until her ex gets a new column in a Cosmo-like mag and starts off with an article called “Loving a Larger Woman” (or something like that). It's actually a pretty decent piece, fairly considerate–and everyone who isn't Cannie or her best friend really likes it.

This launches Cannie on a quest for self-improvement–emotionally, professionally, and physically. And honestly, I'm not sure how to go on from here without a lot of spoilers.

There's a big fairy tale ending here, but it's quickly derailed into something still unrealistic, but far more satisfying. Funny, insightful, touching (without being obviously sentimental), and charming. It's a satisfying read (and would probably hold up to a repeated read or two), no matter what label gets attached to it.