Fuck Your "Domestic Fiction"

So I was ordering a book through the library when I noticed that one of the subjects it was listed under is "domestic fiction." Which prompted in me a sudden appalling vision of me wobbling around the living room in my barefeet, my pregant belly getting in the way as I take a five minute break from all the sweeping and vacuuming to sit down and crack open a book about women wobbling around the living room in their barefeet, their pregnant bellies getting in the way as they take a five minute break from all the sweeping and vacuuming to swoon. Or perhaps woo a man. Or perhaps don a corset. Or perhaps flutter a fan around their faces.

And damned if that didn't make me wanna punch the genre-makers in the face for coming up with such a horrible and terrible title for a genre.

I'm not a big fan of genrification (how clever am I?) anyways, as it's always struck me as stifling. And I'm particularly torn about whether to grind my teeth about this one or not after actually googling the term and finding out more information about it. Yes, it's apparently a genre where female characters seek out autonomy and independence, but then again, it's been critiqued as using "the language of tears" (because all women like a good sob), the tales usually end up with the woman getting married, and it's called fricking "domestic fiction" for christ's sake.

(Read on, faithful readers.)

Either which way, I guess what irks me most about it is that, despite the fact that it's been associated with certain literature from the 1800s, the term is still being booted around to describe books that are being written *NOW*. (The book I ordered was written in 2002.) And that just seems fucked up to me.

Fuck genre. And fuck domestication.

That's what I have to say about that.

-------