That great old tune by Felix Unger could be the theme song of the literary moment (rather than, one hopes, a full-fledged movement) known as "Chick Lit." Now, in hopes of luring in the ladies, such Debbie-Downer gal scribblers as Sylvia Plath are getting the lipstick makeover. (Hey, Emily Bronte is now being sold as "Bella and Edward's favorite writer." Don't believe me? Go here.)
It's been awhile since I put off real work by whipping up some book covers; last time, I gave some classics the self-pub treatment (another moment we're totally into). Now it's time to brighten up some prestige-laden sob sisters with the cover treatment that says This book is good. Shoe-shoppin' good.
Let's start with that dour classic that launched a thousand Women's Studies' reading lists.
Overshare memoirs are big with the ladies; just ask Carrie Bradshaw!
More memoirs; let's put the "ditz" in dysfunctional!
Hey, admit it: "Feminist dystopian novel" just doesn't have that fly-off-the-shelves ring, now, does it?
It's such a cute book, she and her sister are, like, always writing to each other about guys and stuff.
Okay, I know. I will rot in hell for this. Happy reading, girls; I'll get the cupcakes, and I'll see you at Book Club!