Challenge criteria: A book you’ve been meaning to read. (Never one for routine, I read book one first, then three, and now two.)
At the beginning of Helen Fielding’s exceptionally funny second novel, the thirtyish publishing puffette is suffering from postholiday stress syndrome but determined to find Inner Peace and poise. Bridget will, for instance, “get up straight away when wake up in mornings.”
Now if only she can survive the party her mother has tricked her into–a suburban fest full of “Smug Marrieds” professing concern for her and her fellow “Singletons”–she’ll have made a good start. As far as she’s concerned, “We wouldn’t rush up to them and roar, ‘How’s your marriage going? Still having sex?'”
What I liked:
Bridget says what every single woman is thinking. If we could all be as ballsy as Bridget, single shaming would be wiped out in seconds.
Also, her camaraderie with the prisoners in Thailand is lovely to see, especially in a loveless place like a foreign prison.
What I didn’t like:
The above said, Bridget isn’t actually a good role model for women. She spends half her time complaining about being single, and the other half complaining about being fat. Bridget is neither of these things.
In fact, she’s an awful body confidence model. Bridget is 5’6″ and weighs in at variances from 8st 9lb to 9st 3lb. Neither of these weights signify any instance of being overweight, or obese. If you’re going by BMI, Bridget is a perfectly healthy weight.
I know it’s intended to be a satire, but there wasn’t much funny about it.
Out of five:
Three. If I had a friend like Bridget, I’d strangle her.