Please don't waste your money on the new Bridget Jones, like I have done. This book will be piling up in charity shops quicker than you can say '50 Shades of Grey'. I know it's fiction, supposedly for entertainment, but Helen Fielding has gone too far and is taking us for fools. A 50-something mum climbing a tree in a black lace thong? The loss of over 3 stone in as many months? I repeat, at 50?? - What a miraculous turnaround considering her struggling metabolism in the earlier books.
Can't believe I fell for my sentimental desire to see BJ fully clued-up, just as feisty, but more-or-less successfully juggling the mania of parenting. Implausibly, her approach to life has become more chaotic and infantile.
Not so bothered about MD's death, or a 50-something single mum with young children having the spare capacity to date 29 year olds. [As if?] But, please, is well-written prose that is a pleasure to read really too much to ask for? What is it with all the @!"*< , CAPITALS, and italics?
Waterstones were sympathetic enuf to sell me the book on promotion at half-price. I still feel like I've been robbed.