I
really didn’t want there to be another Bridget Jones book. I liked remembering
Helen Fielding’s famed heroine as she was, the goofy, curvy thirtysomething who
epitomised so many of our lives at that point in time (the 1990s) and somehow
made it OK for us to be messy, imperfect and insecure like she was. To have her
turn up again in her fifties, a middle-class, north London mum with an
obessesion with twitter and, worst of all, widowed; well it's fair to say I
embarked on Bridget Jones: Mad About The
Boy (Jonathan Cape) with my knickers in a knot about the whole thing.
My
sourness persisted through the first few lacklustre chapters as Bridget awaits
texts from her much younger boyfriend, the kids get nits and the school mums
send snippy round robin emails. And then something happened. I laughed out loud
once, twice, then so hard I had to put the book down to wipe the tears from my
eyes. Further on more tears welled, but this time not from laughter. I stayed
on the sofa all of a Sunday afternoon, moved and amused till the very last
page.
It
was a risk for Fielding to write this book. When the orginal two novels were
published they was something very new, now the format has been done to death.
Plus fans have their expectations and Mark Darcy being blown up by a landmine
while on a human rights mission wasn’t one of them. In many ways it was
inevitable readers would feel disappointed and critics would carp. But I say
good on Fielding for going ahead anyway and giving us a middle-aged, rather
lost and very sad, Bridget Jones.
Admittedly
there is nothing wildly original about the plot. With the encouragement of her
friends Bridget gets back into the dating game, has to update herself on the
many ways the rules have changed, comfort eats packets of grated cheese, tots
up her alcohol units, texts and tweets, has Botox and works on a ridiculous
movie script based on Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler. She doesn’t seem to have gained
much wisdom or maturity since we last encountered her; is still disaster-prone
and makes a lot of fart jokes. Daniel Cleaver has a couple of guest appearances
but they feel a bit like Fielding is having to force out the old cliches about
him. And when the new love interest
appears on the scene it’s pretty obvious which means the ending is predictable.
But
the thing is it’s really funny – even if it’s also darker than the previous
Bridget Jones books. And as a portrayal of a middle-aged female character it’s
actually pretty realistic. After all hopes and dreams don't change when you hit
your half century; you still feel insecure about your appearance, have a few
too many drinks with friends, worry about what to wear etc. Also I think it
would make a brilliant movie even if Colin Firth can’t be in it and Rene
Zellweger probably doesn’t want to put on all that weight again.
About the reviewer.
Nicky Pellegrino, an Auckland-based author of popular fiction, is also the Books Editor of the Herald on Sunday where the above review was first published on Sunday 27 October 2013.
Nicky Pellegrino, an Auckland-based author of popular fiction, is also the Books Editor of the Herald on Sunday where the above review was first published on Sunday 27 October 2013.
Her latest novel , The Food Of Love Cookery School, has just been published.
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