Gasoline Books #8

Getting to the -core of it

Jul 05, 2023

Last month, I was hanging out with a fellow bibliophile when the subject of a recent, highly applauded debut came up. After an awkward pause, we each confessed we couldn’t stand it. Until that moment, I hadn’t given much thought about why the novel didn’t work for me and, after we parted ways, I reflected on what irked me so much. The book had all the makings of something I’d typically love: quirky lady narrator who combats her flawed self-image, impressive vocabulary, hilarious romantic missteps. But despite all its promise (and people much smarter than me lauding the dang thing), reading it felt like homework, in the sense that this was a chore I had done before and had no wish in repeating.

Today, book publishing has succumbed to the wheezing stage of mergers and acquisitions, and has, of course, doubled down on its hero complex (celebrity memoir, mystery, romance). The idea of tropes have been replaced with -cores, the popular trend vernacular we proliferate as if we’re conjuring names for a child’s first goldfish.

It’s not that there aren’t some incredible pieces getting published across genres and formats (there are!), but I’ve found that, especially with Booktok at the helm, publishers are quick to swarm clickbaity subjects not dissimilar from media websites attempting to resuscitate asthmatic traffic with salacious headlines (I’m allowed to say this since I’ve worked for many of them, and continue freelance for several others). But this marketing-first approach to the work is muddling its message. Today, adhering to tropes is getting mistaken for the examination of life’s trenches, especially when it comes to female-driven literary fiction and mysteries.

Don’t believe me? Join me on a quick tour.

To your left, you’ll find cringe-core: These books are commonly written in first person, feature some coming-of-age tilt (no matter the actual age of the protagonist), have some relatable, LOL-worthy embarrassments (nothing like revisiting moments you’d rather bury in your subconscious!), and boast SAT-word-stuffed sentences that leave your eyes bleakly searching for the next period. These books are usually a favorite of IRL magazine girlies, get nominated for awards you’ve heard of (and many of which you haven’t), and generally follow the plot structure of Sixteen Candles.

To your right, you have the seething cold and austere ilk, which I now declare Kathryn-core (named after our girl Kathryn Merteuil of Cruel Intentions fame — who could forget that ‘Marsha Brady of the UES’ monologue?!). And while these protagonists might look just as deadly in a Prada dress as Sarah Michelle Gellar — they muster less of a convincing bite. Frequent topics follow a woman-scorned vibe while making some decent, if not predictable, points about sexism. They scald the earth with their fury by way of resting bitch faces and self-harming behaviors. These novels often fall within the mystery or thriller genres, though literary fiction isn’t off the table. These books settle somewhere between Bukowski and Bret Easton Ellis to varying degrees of apathy, remorse, and trauma bonding.

This is what these -cores, which are starting to feel like two rival tables in your local high school’s cafeteria, have in common: Most of the protagonists are white. They are generally highly educated. They wrestle with self-deprecating humor and lonely childhoods. They’re not afraid to make you squirm with shock gimmicks or flashbacks of assault. They wore braces as a kid and read “The Bell Jar” for the first time when they were 12. They have something to prove without the tools to do so, making for great fun for the reader, when well executed, which is less frequent. They trod paths of bygone protagonists, leaving less than the semblance of a footprint in their wakes.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with any of this. I’ve certainly enjoyed my share of both -cores because there is truly some great art in these categories. And chasing or foraging trends certainly isn’t new, in book publishing or any other industry, especially creative ones (just look at the blistering fashion week cycle). We’ve all got bills to pay after all. So perhaps my complaints-masquerading-as-trendspotting have less to do with the vehicle and more to do with the transmission.

I could dig deeper into both of these -cores and surface some pretty compelling internalized Madonna-whore comparisons and arguments, but this piece is already too long, and if you’ve made it this far, you probably just want to get to the reading list.

You’ve been searching for those life-raft periods, don’t lie.

One last thing. (sorry)

The fact that there’s enough popular female-written fiction to dissect is, within itself, a win. Book marketers have to sell product, which can require some finagling with current (fleeting) trends. If a book is marketed well, it will ostensibly sell and female authors get paid — also a win. What I'd like to see is more creativity within these -cores. If we’re fitting into molds, what flavors can be invented? Is there space for more experimentation and playfulness within these -cores? Yes. Will they have a harder time getting pubbed? Also yes. Naturally, as with the rest of publishing, there needs to be more diversity. This would immediately shake things up for the better, but will require tough-as-nails dedication and perseverance on the part of the author, editor, and publisher.

So, I guess the only remaining question is: How hard -core are you?