I Judge Books By Their Covers

I judge books by their covers.

I developed this nasty habit during the height of the chick lit boom in order to avert purchasing yet another book about Lisa the aspiring writer, her mean boss, her raw food diet and her jerk ex-boyfriend.

If a book cover has a martini glass, black stiletto, engagement ring or handbag, I pass. These simple rules help me avoid contrived plots and cookie cutter protagonists.

And here is the part where Nichole gets bitch-slapped.

See that book up there? Had I stuck to my rules, I wouldn't have cracked the cover. Handbag? Check. Black heels? Check. Potentially sappy content (see title)? Check.

But the vintage/sexy vibe was a far cry from the typical Daily Candy-esque illustrations, so I gave it a shot.

Not only was I dead wrong about the content of the book, I liked it so much it slipped into my top ten. Anna Gavalda's I Wish Someone Were Waiting For Me Somewhere is a collection of unrelated short stories, each of which revolves in some way around fate and free will. I'm stunned by the author's ability to write from so many different perspectives - her main characters are both male and female, and young and old.

I was captivated from paragraph one, and happy to re-visit a golden rule: never judge a book by its cover.

PS. I still hate chick lit

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