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This weekend, Gothamist was intrigued by the barrage of information about and by young twenty- and thirtysomething New Yorkers, works of both fact and ficiton. Basically, the dudes are trying to be funny and shznit in fiction while the ladies are freaking about what do with their actual lives. Sounds about right. The Post mentioned Kyle Smith's book, Love Monkey, which is called the male counterpart to Bridget Jones and the chick lit movement. Interestingly enough, the Times Styles section also took time to look at Love Monkey plus Scott Mebus's Booty Nomad, both authors trying to break out beyond just lad lit into that hallowed Nick Hornby ground. Smith says, "Someone has to speak up for that dwindling minority, the non-metrosexual straight male," (related: see review of Straight Plan for Gay Man) but Janet Maslin, in her review of Love Monkey, wrote, "As a man who sees serious parallels between his own life and Bugs Bunny cartoons, [Love Monkey protagonist] Tom will appeal to a relatively narrow readership." And Time wrote, "one feels not so much entertained by `Booty Nomad' as hit on." Gothamist will probably thumb through both books at the burgeoning "Lad Lit" table at Barnes & Noble and read it while sucking down a latte, as is our habit of reading-at-the-store-so-we-don't-have-to-buy. But we do like the cover of Booty Nomad, because subway maps are cool.

So, then there's upcoming book, Midlife Crisis at 30 by Lia Macko and Kerry Rubin, which focuses on late 20- and 30-something women's realization that having it all may not be what it's cracked up to be, with pressures of appearances, work, love, and motherhood giving them agita - the Post outlines it all. One NYC psychologist does seem many young female patients and says that "The phenomenon is more grave in urban areas. The more stressful the lifestyle, the more this is salient." After reading the article, Gothamist wondered when we could check ourselves into Silver Hill, because clearly we have some upsetting times ahead. AND Sex and the City ended! Luckily, we have The Book of Ages: 30 to remind us that 30 is but a stop along the way to great things...sometimes.