Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’s Diary is on a number of must-read lists. The novel, written as a diary, follows Bridget Jones (obviously), a woman in her thirties who is struggling with what looks like everything in her life. Her weight issues, her relationships, her insecurities – everything is laid bare in her diary. Every day is a new resolution to bring her life on track. But as human will has the collapse at any point in time, without prior notice, so does Bridget Jones fall back into her old habits.
In addition to Bridget Jones having the habit of relapsing into old habits, she is also quite an idiot when it comes to love. She is also someone who is quite a masochist, if I might put it simply. Despite the dangers of socializing and indulging in a romantic relationship with a colleague, she plunges in headfirst. She does what she should not do. She is forced to go where she does not want to go. And her life gives her twists, turns, and surprises that she didn’t see coming for miles.
I bought the book because I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. But apart from the funny brand of British humor, there is nothing else that I like about it. Yes, humor should suffice, but it didn’t do the trick for me. There was something missing – an element that I quite cannot place a finger on.
Bridget Jones’s Diary oscillates between becoming chick-lit and the utter nonsense that one tends to write in diaries. Yes, people like Bridget Jones exist, but a book? Nah. I really do not think that digging your own potholes before unceremoniously being dumped into them calls for sympathy. It’s stupid and idiotic.
There is a saying about booklovers. Never tell them that the movie is better than the book. Except maybe, Catching Fire (Hunger Games #2). But in this case, however much I want to believe otherwise, I know with everything I have that the book has nothing on the movie. Blatant mentions of Hugh Grant and Colin Firth probably made the makers sign them on for the film. And they’ve done such a good job.
Renee Zellweger’s Bridget Jones has so much more character and personality than the book’s Bridget Jones. She possesses an integrity, charm, and intelligence that the book’s lead character lacks. And I wish the book were based on the movie, than the other way around. Yes, it sounds silly, but not as silly as the many times that Bridget Jones pulled herself down in the story!
This rating is merely for the humor, which, in some places, is surprisingly good. Otherwise, I can only say that in my opinion, the book is somewhat of a light, chick-lit that you read without asking questions. I only read the book because it came highly recommended. And was slightly disappointed.
Sorry, Bridget Jones! I only hope you come back with better stuff in your next diary!
Rating: 3/5 stars
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