For women, by women: 'Chick Lit' sells

They are spunky, sassy single career women living in overpriced urban flats navigating their way through imperfect boyfriends, meddling mothers, overbearing bosses and deceivingly glitzy jobs. They spaz about everything from board meetings to shoes and buy Gucci from salaries that could only afford Gap. Are they from another chick flick? Try "chick lit," the contemporary genre of books that is becoming the trendsetter for an otherwise laggard literature industry. For women, by women.

Walk into any bookstore, and a flash of cotton candy-colored book covers immediately sweeps across your senses like Disco Barbie on Prozac. Bold titles like How to Pee Standing Up, Confessions of a Shopaholic and The Nanny Diaries have suddenly made the transition from frivolous to fabulously chic. After all, who wants to read old farm tales from the bygone days by dull, wrinkled men like Hemingway and Faulkner when there are novels about sexy gals searching for inner-grace in the big city?

The trend made its mark on the mass-media public in 1997 with the highly successful Bridget Jones' Diary, Helen Fielding's debut novel. "Chick lit" hasn't looked back since. The quirky adventures of Bridget serve as the inspiration for portraying women as smart and independent, successfully giving the alpha-males the boot from the fiction throne and leaving them weeping with three-inch stiletto marks in their backsides. Just last year, "chick lit" bestsellers sales have made it up to almost 100 million.

Don't dismiss this as just Charlie's Angels printed on paper. "Chick lit" is more than just slapping some silly bubble gum cover on words and passing it off as another beach read, despite some publishers' intents. This is the evolution of the sappy romance genre. No more endings of running into sunsets while pledging eternal love with the nonexistent perfect man, no more child bearing equaling bliss and no more planning life around wedding bells. Instead, it's the modern-day take-charge woman who juggles a thriving career, back-stabbing friends and relationship problems. Above all, these jet-setters face their interfering mothers who push every eligible bachelor in their daughters' faces, constantly reminding them of their nearly unmarriageable age of 26.

But with every good trend there exist a few bad apples trying to ride along on the popularity wave, much like bad movie sequels. Bridget Jones' Diary probably gave birth to enough poser "chick lit" pages to bury Thailand. A prime example, The Devil Wears Prada fails to capture a sense of reality for its protagonist, instead reaching for utopian stereotypes to fill the holes in its unimaginative plot. But finding a chick lit book that has enough qualities to set itself apart from the others is not hard. Some tactfully expose the hypocritical inclinations of an increasingly feminist society but maintain a light-hearted, playful tone. Others are charming guides to living life as a single girl after college, complete with dinner party etiquette and rules to keeping a "friend with benefits," meant more to amuse than to preach. And there are even chick lit mysteries of female sleuths who fight crime by day and date by night.

There is something undeniably attractive and infatuating about those lovable young bachelorettes who reflect on life in bluntly truthful voices. These characters are undeniably human, admitting their faults without shame. Finally there are books that typify the plucky yet flawed heroine, contrasting the 1950s romance novels with their static, dependent housewives whiling the time away until their husbands come home. June Cleaver has left the kitchen-- if she's reading chick lit--she's kicking ass.