Maud notes an interesting perspective on the new wave of books by women who are writing unapologetic accounts of their ravenous sexual escapades, real and embellished.

I haven't read any of the books mentioned yet, although they have always looked intriguing from a distance in an empowering, at-least-I-wouldn't-be-disappointed-when-she-quits-her-job-to-get-married kind of way.

All I have to say is that the title of Maud's post - "Chick lit successors even make fucking tedious" - is reason enough to hop, skip, or jump over there right away.



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