IT was a middling year for fans of chick lit. On the one hand, there were a couple of great reads from unexpected authors; on the other, some old favourites left us disappointed.

Among the high notes was Paula Hawkins' The Girl on the Train. Arguably one of this year's most hyped books, the thriller drew at least part of its appeal from promising a repeat of the Gone Girl experience. With its unreliable, at times unlikeable, heroine, and its shuffling of narratives, the thriller messed with our heads in a way we liked. This was one book that kept us engrossed from the first page right through to its satisfying conclusion, delivering indelible images and movie-like sequences, while moving at a breakneck speed. Although the book should have come with the warning 'overthinking about the plot could cause it to fall apart', and there were certainly no deeper meditations hidden within its narrative, it was a genuinely compulsive read.

The year 2015 also saw the sequel of Jojo Moyes' bestseller, Me Before You. After You was an exploration of love, loss and moving on, delivered with all of Moyes' warmth and humour. While it did not pack the punch that Me Before You had, After You was a worthy read, not least because Moyes has the gift of breathing life into a flawed, relatable, spunky heroine that readers want to return to again and again.

The biggest disappointment came from the queen of romantic comedy, Sophie Kinsella, whom one counts on to deliver that elusive, bubbly, feel-good sensation which is the hallmark of top-quality chick lit. While Kinsella was once a pro at producing that alchemy which results in a goofy smile and a ready suspension of disbelief, some of her recent writing has degenerated into utter silliness, the spirit of which readers can't enter. Without the redeeming feature of making us feel for the heroine or feel good, the novels fall flat on their face. This year's Finding Audrey which focused on the recovery of a teen suffering from social anxiety disorder, was a departure from her regular audience and tone. Kinsella appeared to tread a path similar to her peer Rainbow Rowell, trying to straddle both YA and adult romantic novels, but whatever one's opinion of Rainbow Rowell, in Kinsella's case, it didn't really work. Thankfully, Kinsella has another Shopaholic (the 8th in the series) out at the end of this year, and since she is always sure-footed with Becky Bloomwood, we hope Shopaholic to the Rescue will deliver the goods.

While the scope and tenor of The Neapolitan quartet by Elena Ferrante may make one balk at classifying it as chick lit, women around the world read the last of the four novels with joy at the satisfying conclusion mingled with regret that the series had come to an end. Ferrante fever ran high as The Story of the Lost Child, one of the most anticipated books of 2015, brought the saga of the friendship between Elena and Lila to its conclusion.

Another chick lit stalwart, Cecilia Ahern came out with a new novel this year. While her plodding, painstaking, love stories - let us take a moment to recall the utter dreariness that was PS I Love You - are not to our taste, we know that legions of fans would disagree. The Marble Collector, we hear, is a departure from her old style, for the better.

In the coming year, despite our better judgment, we're looking forward to Curtis Sittenfeld's Eligible, a reworking of Pride and Prejudice under the Jane Austen project. Yes, we remember that Curtis Sittenfeld is the writer whose heroine fails at love so spectacularly that she starts off dreaming of Keifer Sutherland and ends up working with autistic boys. But perhaps Sittenfeld will allow an iota of Austen's humour and radiance to permeate her own writing. A girl can but hope.