Meet author Katherine Taylor. (Her narrator is called "Kath," too!) She never thought she was pretty, always thought she looked like a boy. (What is up with these pretty girls — ahem, ScarJo — saying they think they look like boys? Anyway, Kath thinks she writes as well as any boy, which is why she is the latest entrant in the massive debate a-raging, mostly among authors and publishers and whoever mills paper dye in the color "Pepto", over the definition of chick lit, namely whether said definition should read something like "total mindless crap, denoted by a pink hue and/or font on book jacket that is NOTHING like what I do" or "a genre that encompasses both total mindless Bergdorf Blonds crap and real richly drawn narrative that underscores truths of the Human Condition like what the pink book writing broads I know write." Writing about this debate has become almost a journalistic genre itself, and today the New York Observer serves up a pretty engaging profile of highly connected bartender-turned-writer KT's personal struggle with the color pink (which she hates, and is very sure would have been the color of Benjamin Kunkel's Indecision had it been written by a girl.) But wait, she doesn't want to dis the color pink — because her book, it turns out, will be pink.
"When Curtis Sittenfeld wrote that horrible review of poor Melissa Banks in The New York Times Book Review, and she called her a slut—you don't want to be on either side of that equation," she continued. "You don't want to be the person degrading chick lit, because they're smart women writing books that are incredibly popular and sell very well. I'd love to be popular and sell very well. And also, I can't say anything about those books, because I haven't read any of them. It's not my scene."
You know, if only they could figure out a way to QUANTIFY LITERARY TALENT, like the SATs, women wouldn't have these problems proving they were better than other women.