Category Archives: Big Stone Gap

The Monday Book: Bridget Jones – Mad about the Boy by Helen Fielding

Posted on by
Reply

Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy – Helen Fielding

 

Regular readers will know that I (Jack) tend to read more non-fiction than fiction, but I do make exceptions. So when ‘Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy’ slid into the shop, I made one of these exceptions.

My introduction to ‘Bridge’ was through the movies of the first two books in Fielding’s series, which led to me reading them as well. And enjoying them.

This latest addition is very much in the same style as the previous ones and I agree with many reviewers that Fielding really does have a knack for capturing a place and a life-style. The life-style is that of engaging and fashionable 30 to 40 year olds and the place is modern day London.

My problem is that I’ve always hated London – actually, I’m not that keen on any big cities, but London is right at the bottom of places where I’d like to live! So it’s meant as a compliment that I’ve enjoyed all the ‘Bridge’ books despite their setting.

I could say the same for ‘Four Weddings and a Funeral’ as well as ‘About a Boy’ – also about the same kind of social group and in the same setting. Maybe there really is getting to be a specific genre that we need to create a special shelf for in the bookstore: Trendy 30-somethings in the Big City. We could title it ‘Cheers’ or ‘Friends’ – – –

Seriously, though – I did enjoy ‘Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy’ as poor Bridge dealt with being a widow with two small children, the guilt of wanting a new companion, school events, life on Twitter, and the inevitable daily catastrophes. I particularly liked Fielding’s cheeky inclusion of Bridge’s negotiations with a movie company over her updating of ‘Hedda Gabbler’ by Anton Checkov (yes – Gabbler with two ‘B’s and, yes, Anton Checkov!). Fielding’s writing is just short of madcap, and paints word pictures one can’t forget.

Two glasses of sparking Evian Water up for ‘Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy!’

 

 

Fixing Mariah Stewart

Posted on by
2

DSCN0455I try to be a good foster mom. I really do.

The mystery room has been taken over by eight fuzzy little miscreants, and just as one was adopted yesterday, an emergency came in. Yeah, it’s been that kind of summer. The emergency kitten – we named her Miss Kitty Butler – is a Russian blue with brown eyes, a lovely wee thing who narrowly missed getting squished on the side of the road. She’s not supposed to be here, but it was better than the alternative.

Now, with eight kittens, and our dear Mrs. Hudson adopted a month ago, you can imagine the state of things. We keep on top of the boxes (which all the kittens are using like champs, in every sense) but they have a kitty tube, a climbing tree, a spiral hat, two dangly toys, assorted jingle balls, and about a thousand catnip mice in there.

We open the door by day, and herd them in at night. When I open the door the next morning with their (two) plates of wet food, they swarm my ankles like fuzzy piranhas, meat-seeking missiles. While they eat, I tidy the room. Which is a lot like Sisyphus pushing his rock up the hill, because the kitties have discovered the joys of tunneling through our new shelves. See, we just redid the mystery room about two weeks ago: new shelves, better classification system, and a big tidy that included Saint Anne buffing and rewaxing all the floors.

Yeah, good thing we got it tidied.

Every morning the kittens have created new tunnels between the central shelf’s lowest level, pushing Ed McBain, Mariah Stewart, and Charlotte MacLeod out of the way in great strings of books across the floor. These fallen soldiers of the kitten wars were, the first week or so, restacked with careful attention to titles and authors, turned sideways to allow a tunnel left open for the fur babies, and given a little tlc.

The kittens ignored the prefabricated tunnels and created more. Ridley Pearson. Richard North Patterson. When they shoved our 200 Robert Parker novels out of the way, I knew they meant business. You mess with Spenser for Hire, nobody is safe.

So I’ve stopped worrying about the kitten tunnels, and just shove those titles willy-nilly back under the bottom shelf each morning. Charlotte and Ridley have grown….close. Entwined, one might say. I’m pretty sure some of the Stewarts are pregnant, and will give birth to slim volumes of Harlequin Suspenses. Sigh….. 081

We ensure the kitties never give birth. It’s been a bad year for people forgetting their responsibilities, and these are the result. But I’m not sure how to fix the Stewarts…