Hated Bridget Jones and her diary. Found her to be an annoying ,whining , self centered female who thinks that not having a boyfriend is the ultimate calamity in life. Went on with it in the hope that at some point I may identify with her but alas....

I absolutely adore Helen Fielding's Bridget Jones's Diary, but while I do oh so much both love and appreciate Bridget as a character (as a fictional diarist), I have NOT ever believed that her weight is in any way morbidly obese (although I guess that she does show a rather limited and unhealthy diet, and a copious and yes even perhaps pretty dubious amount of alcohol consumption).

Now in my opinion, much of the charm of this novel, of what makes Bridget Jones's Diary so readable and approachable, is that many of Bridget's little and not so little peccadilloes are true for so many of us, and that it therefore tends to feel both encouraging and charmingly heartening to know that we are indeed not alone. But I do have to wonder a bit if rereading this book (after almost eighteen years) would change my general attitudes towards Bridget Jones, and actually, I have so far steadfastly refused to reread, as I do have a more than sneaking suspicion that I might now be more than a bit less tolerant (towards both the novel and author Helen Fielding) than I was then, and would rather keep intact the sense of fun, enjoyment and yes, love, that enveloped me on my first and so far only read (for I was also reading this in 1998, right after having finally handed in my PhD dissertation and boy, did I ever need something light and fluffy, and Bridget Jones's Diary most delightfully and totally fit the proverbial bill).

I'm torn as to how to rate this. On the one hand, Fielding nails the humor. Humor is very hard to capture in literature and I often found myself smiling or chuckling. But when I wasn't, I was exasperated with Bridget Jones. Fielding nails her too. Why do women insist on being proud of being so... shallow? Idiotic, blind about themselves and their lives, and obsessed with all the wrong things in life? I didn't sympathize with Bridget at all, nor did I really care about the holes she dug herself into. This book is the perfect example of why I don't read chick lit. I just don't relate to this definition of what women are. More than that, I'm embarrassed by it.

I also didn't buy into the love story. I didn't really get why Bridget liked him other than he was there. But what else than a shallow love interest did I expect from Bridget? I'm glad that the Pride and Prejudice undertones were not blatant or I might of cried that Fielding so disgraced the characters. I liked the way Renee Zellweger played Bridget so much more than the way this is written. At least in the movie she has a brain and a personality worth something and she seems a little above all the nonsense around her. One of these days I'd like to read chick lit with a protagonist I can relate to, but then again, would it really be light and chick-lit-ish?

What a depressingly bad book. ‘Helen Fielding is one of the funniest writers in Britain,’ says Nick Hornby on the front cover, ‘and Bridget Jones is a creation of comic genius.’ What on earth…? Why is he saying that? Did he want to sleep with her? Same goes for Salman Rushdie. ‘A brilliant comic creation,' blurbs Salman. 'Even men will laugh.’ Oh, Salman. Why is he saying that? Surely, if a book is genuinely funny, then people will laugh irrespective of their gender. Obviously. ‘Even men will laugh.’ What kind of bullshit is that? As it happens, I did laugh. I laughed, if I remember correctly, four times. Out loud. On the other hand, I also shouted out in anger, annoyance and plain old despair at least forty times.

So what’s wrong with this book?

Well, in a nutshell: flaccid, half-dimensional characterisation; sickeningly pat plotting – the ending in particular is an embarrassing slap in the face for anyone who's ever shown even a passing consideration for the real world; downright adolescent ideas about style – those bits where she writes ‘drunk’ and ends up with her typing slurred are a disgrace.

Also, I know Helen Fielding can’t exactly be blamed for this, but Jesus, you’d think Picador could afford a decent proof reader. There are so many incredible howlers in BJD that it beggars belief. On page 174 of this edition, for example…



…not only is there an ‘on one’ instead of a ‘no one’, but there is also – drum roll – this: ‘that’s a nice shirt your wearing’. NOOOOOoooooooo! God in Heaven, strike me down and bugger me.

One thing that particularly upset me about this book - and which Helen Fielding can be blamed for - was the woefully predictable oscillation of mood. This kind of thing throughout:

7pm. Opened bottle of wine feeling desperate and lonely and miserable. 7.30pm. Oh unassailable joy! Daniel called and declared his undying love for me. 8pm. Daniel called back and said he’d called the wrong number by mistake. He thought I was Ryan Giggs. (Who?) Opened second bottle of wine. Binged on marshmallow and lard and put on 3 stone in 20 minutes. 9pm. Oh insurmountable ecstasy! Mark Darcy called and declared his undying love for me. He’s coming over. Performed quick gastric bypass procedure on self and washed hair. Down to 9 stone but still look podgy. 10.30pm. Mark Darcy stood me up. Why am I so lonely? Why? Why? Why?

Because you’re a bore, Bridget, that’s why. You’re a fucking bore.

Of course I know we don’t have to like our fictional protagonists. Patrick Bateman, for example, is vile. As is Humbert Humbert, and even Homer Simpson. Yet in each of these cases, it is possible to describe these characters using one or more of the following adjectives: ‘interesting’, ‘fascinating’, ‘funny’ or ‘well-written’. And all of these things are important. However, if you insist on creating a character who is dull, slow-witted, utterly charmless, and self-indulgent to the point of mentally ill, then you’d better make sure that you write them well. Otherwise no one will read your book.

So, I suppose the next question has to be: how could I believe so passionately that what I’m saying is true and yet at the same time be so wildly and obviously wrong?

Bridget Jones's Diary has apparently sold millions and millions and millions of copies worldwide. It has also picked up astonishing reviews by the likes of the inestimable Jilly Cooper and a clearly fuckstruck Salman Rushdie.

My instinct is to say that these people are all wrong and that I know dross when I read it and that Bridget Jones’s Diary is utter, utter dross. But… what if it’s me?

This is a chilling thought. And I'm not sure what to do with it. Perhaps I shall just sit here, in my study, in nothing but the light from my computer monitor, and weep.

Took a little trip back to 1996 to visit my old pal Bridget Jones. I have seen the movie countless times, but this was the first time I’ve had the pleasure of reading the book. Gotta hand it to Renée Zellweger, she absolutely crushed this role and perfectly portrayed this quirky mess of a character. I do think she added a softness to a character who feels a little more crass and brash on the page, but otherwise, the reading experience felt very similar.

Many aspects of the book were noticeably outdated and so very 90s, but the interpersonal struggles portrayed felt largely the same. Bridget is a 30 something single female feeling the pressure from her family, society and her own desires to meet someone and “settle down.” I loved how the author depicted how these struggles are exacerbated around the holidays. Unfortunately, I think this is just as true today and is a reality that may remain timeless. The spirit of comparison seems to walk hand in hand with the holiday season. I thought this quote in particular was so profound and still accurately sums up today’s culture.

“The whole bloody world's got a commitment problem. It's the three-minute culture. It's a global attention-span deficit.”

This was a quirky cast of characters and there’s no denying that many of their issues were worsened by their own poor choices. Gotta wonder how much they resembled the population at the time. I hope for the sake of their lungs that smoking wasn’t that prevalent, but I have a feeling that’s not too far off the mark.

I also really felt for her poor dad. There are too sides to every story and I think it’s likely he took his wife for granted in more ways than one, but he seemed so sweet and blindsided by his wife’s actions. This line in particular really hit me in my feels. “When someone loves you it's like having a blanket all around your heart.” In the book he is inferring that the blanket has been taken away.

Time's tight for all of us. That's why you'll be tempted to skip reading Bridget Jones's Diary if you saw the movie. Don't!

The movie is, of course, darling with cute Renee Zellwenger, uptight but decent Colin Firth and Hugh Grant as the epitome of the gorgeous, smooth-talking cad. However, the book is much, much better. You'll miss the uproariously funny details inherent in the format of Bridget's diary (e.g., counting cigarettes and calories, the despair of falling off the wagon, the recriminations common to all young women's diaries -- and low self-esteem). Reading this was like reliving my own misspent youth. By necessity, the movie had to shear big sections of the book out of the screenplay -- and you won't want to miss a juicy day of Bridget's year-long diary. Also, the movie treatment of some of Bridget's adventures just aren't as clever or funny as Helen Fielding's handling.

It's a cliché to say you'll laugh out loud. But in this case, it's actually true. Don't miss reading Helen Fielding's gem just because you saw the big-screen version.

Might be more of a 3.5 stars? I read this because I am COMPLETELY OBSESSED with the movies and decided I should probably read the book if I want to be a ~tRuE fAn~ and this was very cute! Bridget's voice was hiiiiiilarious and the boys were mega dreamy. However, I did find myself to be a bit underwhelmed by this just because I kept comparing it to the movie. So maybe read this before seeing the movie if you can help it. Other than that though mega cute!

I've had this book on my shelf for a while now, when all of a sudden I feel an urge to drop the books I'm currently reading and just go with Bridget Jones's Diary. Having watched the movie about a gazillion times prior to reading the book (yes, a guilty pleasure I'm not ashamed of), I was quite prepared what to expect, and was a bit skeptical as to whether I'll like it that much now that I'm spoiled. But girl, did I like that book! Although in a format of a very untypical diary, the book gives a very, very realistic idea of how women feel about themselves, their relationships with friends/family/men and their lives in general. Not sure if this matches what I categorize as chick-lit in my head, but who cares anyway? I really, really liked that book and definitely recommend it. It's a very quick read, it's totally relatable and very funny. Gotta go now, the movie is waiting.

This was somehow decent enough. I’m quite confused because so many things happened out of nowhere.

This is about Bridget Jones. A woman who is in some sort of life crisis because she’s unsure on what’s going on with her life, her boss is flirting with her but doesn’t want anything to do with her, she really wants a boyfriend, and she’s desperate to lose weight. Also, she smokes a lot.

As I said, I wasn’t a huge fan of it. It was sorta okay but I saw no point to the plot, it was like just reading…. Idk, something that wasn’t a diary. Sure, it was entertaining at times but not that good.

Characters were alright, but wasn’t a fan.

I’m not really sure what to think. All I can say is I saw no plot.

Didn't know what to expect when picked the book up on spec. Ended up laughing out loud so often, my husband allowed me to read bits to him -- and he laughed just as much! (Now, this was a while ago, of course!)

Hmm. Think will cross last bit out as contains mild accusation of sexual harassment whereas v. much enjoying being sexually harassed by Daniel Cleaver.

For one of my book challenges, I needed to read a Jane Austin-inspired book. I remember enjoying Bridget Jones’s Diary, a book I read when it first came out 25 years ago. So I decided to reread it, and see whether or not it holds up a generation later.

Sadly no. No, it does not.

There are some parts of Bridget Jones’s Diary that still work. The judgment and frustration that “singletons” feel at the hands of their “smug married” friends and family is pretty timeliness. Her wild flights of imagination are amusing. And there are some parts that are almost still funny—no one knows how to program their VCR—even though they feel trapped in amber from a 1990s Seinfeld episode.

But most of Bridget Jones’s Diary is hopelessly dated and often cringey. Her obsession with her weight is unhealthy. Her lists of her weight, alcohol, cigarettes, and calories consumed gets old. This book may have originated the gay best friend trope, but it’s jarring every single time she calls him a “homosexual” like he’s some exotic creature. The plot line involving Bridget’s mother and Julio is just odd. Worst of all, like many good romcoms there’s a love triangle here, but this one sucks. The best parts of  Pride and Prejudice is the banter between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy, but Mark Darcy is rarely in this book until the final third. Instead, Bridget spends most of her time obsessing over her relationship with her boss, Daniel. Daniel is all class, using the work e-mail to call her a “frigid cow,” and tell her “I like your tits in that top.” Instead of going to HR about his sexual harassment, she STARTS sleeping with him.

Regular readers of my reviews know that I’m always on the lookout for that rare situation: the movie that’s better than the book. I keep a running list of them (there aren’t many) on my profile page. But onto that list I now add Bridget Jones’s Diary, a flawed book that was made into a better movie thanks to great performances by Renée Zellweger, Colin Firth, and Hugh Grant. Bridget Jones’s Diary helped reinvigorated the romcom book genre. But that genre has grown and evolved and passed this book by. It’s just so vapid and cringey that I struggle to remember what I liked about it the first time. Not recommended.

Original rating: 4 stars
Rating I really want to give it: 2 stars
New rating: averaged to 3 stars

"Skirt is indisputably absent. Is skirt off sick?"

Despite what most of my friends think about me, I'm a sucker for good romantic comedies. Sure, they'll tell you that I mostly end up calling everything cheesy and roll my eyes but that's a coping mechanism and they just don't get me, alright? One of my favourite chick flicks is, you guessed it, Bridget Jones's Diary. I love its lightheartedness, how utterly 2000 it feels and looks, the Pride and Prejudice references and, my god, how gorgeous are Grant and Firth in this one? It's a personal attack I say, I'll sue!!

I didn't have many hopes for this book since I had already started it once but couldn't be bothered to finish it. Recently though I decided to give it another go. It just.. didn't work for me.

Bridget Jones's Diary presents itself in the form of a diary that doesn't feel like an intimate portrayal of life at all as it lists a series of stuff that happens to Bridget in the driest way possible. At some point it takes her pages and pages to tell us how unsuccessfully she's trying to work the video recorder. Who cares Bridget? Who cares?? There really is no plot if we don't consider poor Bridget whinging about her weight and men for the majority of this story.

As a character, Bridget doesn't grow and doesn't inspire empowerment at all as she doesn't stand up for herself, not even once. She lets people walk all over her and mops around afterwards. She's so self-centered that, as a reader, you struggle to see her as anything else beyond a huge ego. Her friends are the ones who help her and who care for her, but you never feel this care expanding from within her. Even when her parents are going through a rough patch she ends up projecting their issues onto her own, like, ew.

When it comes to the romance, she will tell us that she is in love, but we don't get to experience that love. We don't know Daniel at all, we just know that he's a borderline sexual harasser and a sex god. Good to know Bridget, can't we go a little deeper? And what about Mark? I.. Was he even in the book? (Seriously, was he? I ended up skimming through most of its second half)

What got me more than anything else though was the fake feminism. I know that when it comes to light-hearted comedies, feminism can become too surface level, but I wasn't prepared for this!

n"After all, there is nothing so unattractive to a man as strident feminism."
(I don't know if this is possible but I felt my uterus litearally shrivel up)

"Think will cross last bit out as contains mild accusation of sexual harassment whereas v. much enjoying being sexually harassed by Daniel Cleaver."

"That didn't give him license to sexually harass me, but the complication was quite enjoyable, really."
(The oxymoron in these last two is what my nightmares are made of)

Bridget pretends she's a raging feminist but only when she gets to talk shit about men with her friends. Because that's what feminists do. Sometimes her friend Sharon would come up with actual good talking points that could have started interesting conversations (like the unwillingness of most women to stop compromising their careers for the sake of men who don't share the same emotional investment as their partners), but Bridget mostly fat-shames, calls a woman a "worthless trollop" because she's wearing a suit better than she did and at some point she laughs at Daniel Cleaver's "frigid cow" comment (he calls her that because she once refused to have drunken sex with him). I'm ---

Finally, that cover is so ugly I want it to die the worst death.

Needless to say that I disliked this book intensely, but am also very thankful for the movies it inspired. Without it we wouldn't have been able to get this brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before Hugh Grant, and what a wretched existence that would have been: