I fell heels over head in love with the first Bridget Jones’ diary, and though the sequel wasn’t as good I’ve been longing to read Mad about the boy.
It’s a so-called time document, I guess. Obsessing over Twitter follows (after having fingered out how twitter works), drunk texting, Botox, protein bars and video games. What could be more middle-aged-woman-with-family-2013? Feeling stressed and overworked, maybe. Or making special effort to show the reader all the sex, thoughts of sex, efforts to have sex…
Fielding is trying so hard to make it modern and that kind of backfires. I enjoyed the previous books more, they seemed more effortless and, I don’t know, generally wonderful. Maybe it’s because Bridget is older and therefore less like me, although I don’t think the life of 29 y/o jones has much in common with my life either.
Still, it was hilarious at some points, and definitely worth a read.