She sits at home on Saturday nights indulging in Bloody Marys, waiting for the phone to ring and watching television reruns to cure her loneliness. At one point or another, many readers have been in the shoes of Miss Bridget Jones. This sometimes clueless, 30-ish working “singleton” seeking Mr. Right is the primary character of Bridget Jones’s Diary, a novel by Helen Fielding.
But this witty and poignant book is more than just an average daily chronicle of events. It’s filled with the day-to-day inner workings of the female mind.
The release of this No. 1 national bestseller-turned-major motion picture has given women everywhere something to laugh about and discuss. Fielding based this book on her columns in the British newspaper The Independent.
The 12 chapters of this creative daily record represent each month of the year. The first chapter begins with Bridget’s long list of New Year’s resolutions, and the final chapter ends after Christmas the following season.
A few of her resolutions include forming a “functional relationship” with a responsible adult and reducing the “circumference of thighs by 3 inches (i.e. 1 1/2 inches each), using anticellulite diet.”
Bridget embarks on an intense quest to find Prince Charming and improve herself inside and out. But it is quickly evident that like Alice falling through the rabbit hole, Bridget can’t seem to maintain control in her life. Each chapter begins by documenting her daily successes and failures with the amount of calories and units of alcohol she has consumed, fags (British for cigarettes) smoked and lottery tickets purchased.
What makes the beginning of each chapter amusing is that Bridget is the concentrated version of all the stupid neuroses of the female species.
For example, on Thursday, Feb. 23, she writes:
125 lbs. (if only could stay under 126 lbs. and not keep bobbing up and down like drowning corpse — drowning in fat), alcohol units 2, cigarettes 17 (pre-shag nerves — understandable), calories 775 (last-ditch attempt to get down to 119 lbs. before tomorrow).
Readers can’t help but relate their own experiences to those that Bridget encounters — whether it be the flirtations that lead to shagging her boss or her frustration in learning to program the VCR.
On Monday, June 12, she writes about fumbling with the VCR in a frantic attempt to tape a television show:
10:33 p.m. Yesss, yesss. RECORDING CURRENT PROGRAM. Have done it!
Aaargh. All going mad. Cassette has started rewinding and now stopped and ejected. Why? Shit. Shit. Realize in excitement have sat on remote control.
It also becomes evident as the novel progresses that Bridget unapologetically enjoys sex. Her scandalous frolics with younger men or “twenty-somethings” and the miniskirts and revealing outfits she wears to work further prove that point. But her desperation for male attention also leads to heartbreak or what she refers to as “emotional fuckwittage.”
At times, Fielding overplays Bridget’s female insecurities, such as her constant need to lose 20 pounds and desire to find a steady boyfriend. This pounding repetition in almost every chapter becomes annoying.
But Bridget’s focus on achieving happiness through such superficial means, as well as her flakiness and ineptitude, are what make it evident that romance and the perfect weight aren’t the keys to leading a satisfying life.
Whenever Bridget feels as though she is losing it, she murmurs phrases to herself such “inner poise, inner poise.” But these mantras are unsuccessful attempts to cope with the overwhelming nature of her daily life.
Bridget’s desire to become an “irresistible sex goddess” and super career girl is also challenged. Her overbearing and bullying mother manages to obtain the key to Bridget’s apartment and checks up on her constantly as she tries to turn her daughter into a television celebrity.
Another highlight of the book occurs when Bridget arrives at what was intended to be a “Tarts and Vicars” party and finds out that the theme of the party has been changed without her knowledge. Wearing a Playboy bunny costume complete with a cotton tail, Bridget’s embarrassing situation leaves readers laughing to the point of tears.
While Bridget’s intentions are good, they don’t always work out the way she hopes. For example, she plans an elegant dinner party for her birthday. But the fancy dishes she tries to whip up burn, the soup turns blue and the dinner becomes a disaster.
Fielding’s book, which is based in England, uses British humor and references such as “Oh, Bloody Hell” and “Bastard!” that are effective in keeping the journal entries entertaining.
Overall, Bridget comes across as the epitome of all females, with her flaky friends, unusual parents, obsessions over male phone calls, a pregnancy scare and her search that finally leads her to “true love.” With its funny female dilemmas and pet peeves of single life, this is the kind of book to read all alone under the covers on a rainy day with a cup of hot chocolate.