Of chick-lits and other books

This past month I had the misfortune of reading the most horrible books. Let me start with Chick-lits.

Helen Fielding's Bridget Jones Diary set the trend of Chick-Lits. Bridget Jones Diary is hilarious, even though it is a cleverly wrapped up Mills and Boons complete with the Tall Dark Handsome Hero in the form of Mark Darcy (so neatly she adapted the hero of Pride and Prejudice). So now there are authors and authors out there who seem to think that one ditzy heroine makes a novel. And my only source of books, the British Council Library, is flooded with them. Ugh! They are horrible; the writing is childish, and the plots non-existent. In fact, BCL might as well get Mills and Boons. At least the plot finishes in 150 pages, just enough to read it one sitting, instead of running on and on and on and on...

Then there was Phillipa Gregory's The Constant Princess. I loved Phillipa Gregory's The Other Boleyn Girl, which told the history of Anne Boleyn and Henry the VIII. The book told the story from the view point of Mary Boleyn who was mistress of Henry the VIII before he married Anne Boleyn. Even though the book painted Mary as an angel and Anne as the wicked witch of the west, it was interesting as each character was neatly fleshed out, the language was beautiful, and the plot was well-developed. In The Constant Princess, Phillipa Gregory talks about Katherine of Aragon, Henry VIII first wife. Katherine was married to Henry's brother who unfortunately died within months of marriage. This entire part was just another Mills and Boons replete with horrible language and no imagination. The rest of it was implausible including the lie that Katherine tells Henry regarding whether her first marriage was consummated or not. And worse of all, the image of Katherine that Phillipa paints in this book is at total variance with the image of Katherine in The Other Boleyn Girl. She should have at least got that straight.

Okay, I will admit that Phillipa Gregory is no great shakes as an author. I had such high hopes from Alice Walker. Her Color Purple was a wonderful novel. But Now is the time to Open your Heart was filled with cliches and implausible characters. There was all this talk about mysticism, about shamans and medicine men from South America, and yoga from India, and all other forms of whatever you want to call it. The heroine has achieved everything and had numerous lovers and she is searching for peace. And she is supposed to find it in the jungles of South America. After all America, the White America, especially is bad and materialistic. Ugh!

I fell back on my stock PG Wodehouse and was delighted to find finally a reference to the brainlessness of the peacock. In the saga of Florence Craye and Bertie Wooster, Florence tells Bertie that he has the brains of a peahen. Of course Florence was mistaken. As everyone knows the Peahen has intelligent. It is the peacock, given to screeching its raucous call at 3am in the morning, that is brainless.

Oh, the one other book that was truly wonderful was Nelson's Daughter by Miranda Hearn. This is the story of Nelson's illegitimate daughter, Horatia, and it was a beautiful tale.

I wish I had read The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai especially as I am journeying to Kalimpong. But maybe once I get back...

Meantime, I have Mrignayani with me. Long time back when Doordarshan used to put up wonderful serials (including Fauji which introduced Shah Rukh Khan), Mrignayani was telecast. It had Pallavi Joshi in the lead and I have wanted to read the book ever since. And lo, I found it at the railway station.