Chick Lit and Being Chicken About It

After having been immersed in the Vedanta Paribhasa, the Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals and The Sensuous in Indian Art for weeks, I decided my mind needed to unthink for a while. You know...float, not swim. Or is it thwim, not think?

About a week ago my sympathetic sister lent me a pile of Archie Comics, perfect for "break reading" as she calls it. Anything more gripping would have led to the temporary yet fatal abandonment of my books. And anything less gripping would have made dying seem like a good break activity again. Break reading, as she, at the tender age of thirteen correctly surmised, must be frivolous. Preferably, with a colourful cover that shows Cheryl Blossom in a tank top asking Archie's mom if he can "Come out and Play".
So in fits I would absorb myself in the world of Riverdale with it's endearing characters... who with the passing of time began to appear highly dysfunctional and clearly On Drugs. (No, it's not exam stress.I'd spend more time on this theory, but I'm sure it would only be stating the obvious.)

Until one day, the pile of comics ran out. And breaks became, once again, a dismal time that consisted of walking around the house (atleast when Bono chose sleep over me) with a glazed look and reading about random things on Wikipedia (check out this useful bit of trivia Adi directed me towards. Might save you from making a cultural faux pas someday.)

The television is evil. I try to avoid it's hypnotic stare as far as possible. It creates a void in your soul and leaves your eyes feeling sore.


Finally, after another morning spent ransacking my room for reading material with just that right level of intensity, I found a Book...(mind goes into flashback mode)

Sister (grabbing Book from shelf)- " You know what else you should read? This Book. I love the author. She writes like I think. But it's really interesting...so maybe I should give it to you later?"

Me - (making polite, snobbish noises) "I don't have time to read fluff when I'm reading about the Categorical Imperative and it's relation to the Bhagwadgita. But I'm sure it's lovely."
(P.S. The Categorical Imperative is not as complicated as it sounds. But it sounds complicated enough to make ME sound mysterious and complex)


The next day, when my sister was away at school and I was leaving my dad's house, I picked up the aforementioned book and absently put it inside my bag. Alright, not that absently. I can't make any intellectual excuses for it either. The Book is Hot Pink.
I cannot resist Hot Pink.


I had an hour to kill in the morning before I started going at my books. So I picked up the Hot Pink book, by a woman called Meg Cabot - unaware at the time that this was one of the writers Chick Lit Thief Kaavya Vishwanathan rather blatantly plagiarised.



"Avalon High" tells the story of a girl who moves to a new city, joins a new high school and falls in love with the Alpha Male of Avalon High, only to discover that (surprise!)he has a girlfriend. Strangely though, A. William Wagner is mysteriously drawn to Elaine (the protagonist, who considers herself horribly unattractive, especially when compared to William's main squeeze) and "Elle" (as "Will" calls her) finds herself in the midst of a raging soap opera involving William, his step brother, his best friend and the perfect girlfriend (yes, the girlfriend is a cheerleader. Yes, Elaine is the smart one. Yes, she gets yummy William, who I think I've got a bit of a crush on.)

Cheesy? Predictable?
Not entirely. Avalon High roughly runs parallel to the events leading up to King Arthur's death. I kid you not. The "A" in Will's name stands for Arthur. He's betrayed by his best friend Lance (remember Sir Lancelot?) who is "scamming on" William's girl Jennifer (Yup.That's todayspeak for Guinevere) and is finally exposed by Marco, his evil half brother (Mordred's cooler, tattooed and pierced counterpart).All the events in the story are choreographed by Elle's somewhat batty Medieval History teacher, Mr. Morton (Merlin?) who ends up being unmasked as a member of the secret Order of the Bear, a group of academics who believe a King Arthur (in this case, Will) is re-born in every generation as the power that must fight the advent of the Dark Age.
Meg Cabot manages, through the guise of her story about Elaine's troubled love life, to narrate a history that most thirteen year olds, given the choice, would rather have eaten glass than read. Each chapter also begins with a verse from Tennyson's "Lady of Shallot", as Elaine is believed to represent Elaine of Astolat (until the twist at the end, when she ends up being another character who was pivotal in Arthur's life.Borrow the book from my sister. Or read about King Arthur starting here.)

Actual substance underneath the fluff. AND with a Hot Pink cover to boot.
Chick Lit Rules.

Umm...I'd better get back to studying now.