I have no problem with chick lit and other various forms of brain candy. But a book should just accept that it is fluff and not try to pretend that it's highbrow. Ann Packer's Songs Without Words thinks it's a bigger, more literary book than it actually is. The story isn't bad, but the characters are overdone; ironic, since the characters periodically discuss how one ought not categorize people as "the smart one" or "the creative one." And yet the book's people so neatly fit into those generalizations: Troubled Teen, Soccer Mom, Artsy Friend with Issues. Songs Without Words: It's what happens when good fluff goes bad.
And by the way, it's not symbolism if you have to spell it out. It's just annoying.
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