When chick-lit is a guy thing

About the time Sex And The City was being released in theatres, a popular joke among men was that watching the film with their wives would be the ultimate agnee pariksha (a walk through fire). Survivors of that experience would be nominated for the ‘best husband award’.

Cinematic therapy works differently on both sexes. Watching Carrie Bradshaw and friends’ desires, sexual fantasies and lives unfold in New York city is one thing. Admiring Robert Patrick strolling coolly through fire, dodging bullets in The Terminator is something else.

The charms of literature work similarly. Chick-lit and dude-lit are probably the most egoistical bedfellows on a bookshelf. Both have their devoted readers. But for some strange reason, men are expected to read only one of them, while it’s considered acceptable for women to read both.

Then there’s the ‘literature infidel’. And ladies and gentlemen, it’s a he. The same man who will make faces at the bookstore billing counter when he spots his wife’s shopping basket overflowing with Mills & Boon, Nicholas Sparks and Helen Fielding. The same man who will check out the back-covers of those books after his wife is asleep. The same man who will resume his disapproval once she wakes up the next morning.

Full report here DNA