When I was a bit younger various people used to have a good old laugh about how I was just like Bridget Jones. I could sort of see it, having read Mad About The Boy I can really see it. But only in parts. Yes, I’ll admit it I am quite like Bridget Jones on a particularly dippy day, but there is absolutely nothing wrong with that I think most women probably are! That’s the essence of Bridget Jones and why she inspires such a backlash, you either think you are like her and can identify with her, or you feel offended and affronted at how frankly silly she is. I don’t think its a feminist issue like some commentators have suggested. Bridget is a fictional character, whether you like her and identify with parts of her, or you don’t, is frankly irrelevant.
Mad About The Boy offers everything the title suggests and there are no real surprises in its essence, however I was a little disappointed by what I felt was a very predictable and fast ending to the story. The ending didn’t leave me hoping for more Bridget diaries and I think it marks the end of an era in fiction as far as I’m concerned. It was lovely to curl up with an old fictional friend and I think if you are of a certain age and you enjoyed the previous books, you’ll enjoy this book as much as I did.