Any number of writers -- mostly women, of course -- have established themselves among readers as purveyors of "chick lit:" romantically toned stories, with or without a sexual gloss, intended to appeal to the softer side of the fairer sex. The underlying theme -- in the writer's mind, not the reader's -- is that more women are interested in stories of love and romance than in adventures, speculations, mysteries, or other sorts. Though there are exceptions -- I'm married to a murder-mystery addict who disdains "pink and purple books" -- enough romance writers have prospered to lend some credence to the notion.
(Florence King, in her wonderful compendium STET, Damnit!, tells briefly of her foray into chick lit: her novel The Barbarian Princess, which apparently made her quite a lot of money but left her with several lifelong "tics" and an unshakable resolve never, ever, to do that again. It's well worth your time -- her tale of the novel's creation, not the novel itself.)
But in recent decades, we've seen an explosion of stories about a different sort of heroine: the "tough chick," capable of going mano a mano with any man and willing to do so for what she (at least) thinks a good cause. Indeed, "tough chicks" seem to dominate adventure and speculative writing today. Though "tough chick" adventures are more likely to issue from female than male writers, they're more popular with male than female readers -- and quite profitably popular at that, if the displays at Barnes & Noble are any indication. The temptation to dip a toe into those waters can overcome even the manliest man, as I should know.
The "tough chick" heroine needn't be un-feminine. When she's not duking it out with the forces of evil, she can display as much interest in traditionally feminine interests (e.g., clothing, shoes, makeup, romance, Real Housewives of New Jersey reruns) as any other gal. Her distinguishing characteristic is physical prowess; she doesn't retreat from the action while the menfolk handle it. Indeed, it's rather more likely that the menfolk will hide behind her.
But "tough chick lit" requires a lot of willing suspension of disbelief from the reader. It's not that there are no women like that in real life, but that they're very rare. Yes, we have female sports figures who approximate such characters when on the playing field, but transplanting them into tales of intrigue, combat, and bloodshed, and giving them the starring role, is a trial of the imagination. There aren't a lot of Xena types in our normal experience.
All of this compels us to confront several questions:
- Does a "tough chick" heroine properly belong only in the speculative genres, or can she "work" in more mainstream settings?
- Can such a heroine be adequately humanized to appeal to readers of both sexes?
- Does "tough chick lit" have a future as a genre of its own, or will it ultimately prove to be a fad, such as the current, never-ending fad for fiction about vampires?