The story of how I really didn’t get along with the miserableness of Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding

Bridget Jones's Diary

Why have all the reviews I’ve done lately been rubbish? Rating-wise, not that actual reviews (though probably that too).

*sigh* I suppose it happens sometimes.

Hopefully after this book, my reading choices will pick up a bit. Because this is the lowest rating I’ve given in a loooooong time.

spoiler free

Let’s talk about Bridget Jones’s Diary!

Bridget Jones's Diary

Title: Bridget Jones’s Diary

Author: Helen Fielding

Publisher: MacMillan General Books

Genre: Contemporary, Chick Lit

Series Status: The 1st in the Bridget Jones series

Number of Pages: 310

Synopsis new

(Found on back cover, view different version on Goodreads)

A dazzling urban satire of modern human relations?

An ironic, tragic insight into the demise of the nuclear family?

Or the confused ramblings of a pissed thirty-something?

review new

Ohhhhhhhhhhh how I REALLY didn’t get along with this book. 

Here I was, just coming out of a reading slump, thinking to myself “I need something kind of fun and light-hearted to pull me out of this last bit”. I remembered I had this book for years now. And I mean years. I also remembered that the film – while it’s not necessarily good, it’s a guilty pleasure kind of thing for me. So I figured it was about time I read this book.


I just…no. I didn’t like this book.

I hate comparing books to their movies but with this one, it just has to be done. The film is fun and something silly to watch. The book was so incredibly self-pitying and miserable. What’s funny in the film is only worth an eye-roll in the book. I didn’t like any of the characters in the book, but Daniel I especially hated. If he spoke to me the way he did to Bridget, he would be out of my life as quick as a flash, the manipulative tool.

Not even my favourite scene from the film is in here.

But enough with the book-to-film comparison.

Because even without the film giving me some idea of what to expect beforehand, I know I still wouldn’t have liked this book. It’s just way too downhearted for me.

I mean, it’s the diary of a thirty-something year old woman who just complains about everything. And yes, I get that it’s her diary. That’s what it’s there for. Vent your thoughts all you like. But you’d think that in AN ENTIRE YEAR, she’d have something good to say at some point, instead of just lots of self-pity, counting calories and the occasional motivational optimism (that’d last for only a paragraph).

Again, I get that it’s a diary. But everything revolves around her. Every single time someone else in this book has a problem – no matter how serious it was – Bridget would only think about how it’d affect her. Her parents had a problem, and she actually said “Am I to be the tragic victim of a broken home now, on top of everything else?” Excuse me – What about how your parents are dealing with this?! AGGHHH.

You’d think that someone with a job and home in London would be relatively happy. Or at least grateful. But no. Apparently your life is pointless if you’re a woman without a husband by the age of 30. But then while thinking this, she and her friends give feminism a bad name by hating and bashing the male gender (OH, unless they’re gay of course) and claiming their generalised rants to be “feminism”. No. It’s not. I know this book was written a while ago and feminism is still a thing being built and understood, but I can’t help but think it’s books like this that make people think all feminists are “man-haters”.

The same goes for the phrase used time and time again in this book: “oh my god I’m so depressed”.

NO. YOU’RE. NOT. You’re miserable for a bit because you didn’t get a phone call or something, yes. I get how bloody negative you are. But you do not have depression. That’d be a different story altogether. Plus there’s no need to say it so many times.

And I know that I can’t relate to this. I’m 18 years old – not a 30 something year old who’s worried about being an unlovable spinster for the rest of their life. But quite frankly, I don’t ever want to relate to Bridget Jones. I never want to get to a point where I will count every single calorie, weight gain, cigarette, alcohol unit, or times I’ve called someone. I never want to have such a miserable mind set. I never want to feel like I have to change myself in order for people like me.

Honestly, this isn’t a bad book. It was awfully written or anything like that. I can see why some people might enjoy it. Why some might relate to it.

But personally, I didn’t enjoy this book at all. It was way too negative for me, and I’d have rather just watched the film again.

 I know this is a very negative review on my part, so I just want to say sorry if I’ve offended anyone. I really don’t mean to. But I can’t help not liking a book. It just happens sometimes.

Rated 1/5 stars

1 star


Comments spoiler warning

Share your thoughts!

Have you read this book? What did you think?

Maybe you’ve seen the film?

If you haven’t read this book, do you plan to?

Let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Until next time…

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6 thoughts on “The story of how I really didn’t get along with the miserableness of Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding

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