I've generally avoided the "chick lit" genre; I did read The Nanny Diaries and found it more than a little tedious. Weiner's books are often plastered with the women's legs and/or designer shoes that are endemic to chick lit. No longer shall I judge Weiner's books by their inspid covers; I popped over to her blog this afternoon, and it's great. Not only does she link to the-blog-which-shall-not-be-named, her writing is smart and whitty. E.g.:
I was lucky enough to have Joyce Carol Oates as a professor back in the day. She's published more in the last decade than most writers will in a lifetime, she’s as smart as ten normal people put together, has an encyclopedic command of literature and a sly sense of humor. Plus, in the time it took you to read this paragraph, she’s written a book review, two short stories and a libretto.
And this gem of a response to the James Frey fracas:
The Smoking Gun does a masterful job of following the paper trail of Frey's embellishments and lies. I have to say that my favorite part of the expose was learning that Frey, in between dealing drugs, blacking out and bleeding from every orifice, found time in college to join the same fraternity as my brother.
So it's a darn good thing I settled my bill with the local library, because I'm keen on reading more.