With another devastatingly hilarious, ridiculous, unnervingly accurate take on modern womanhood, Bridget Jones is back.
Monday 27 January
“7:15 a.m. Hurrah! The wilderness years are over. For four weeks and five days now have been in functional relationship with adult male, thereby proving am not love pariah as recently feared.”
Wednesday 5 March
“7:08 p.m. Am assured, receptive, responsive woman of substance. My sense of self comes not from other people but . . .from . . .myself? That can’t be right.”
Lurching from the cappuccino bars of Notting Hill to the blissed-out shores of Thailand, everyone’s favorite Singleton Bridget Jones begins her search for The Truth in spite of pathetically unevolved men, insane dating theories, and Smug Married advice. She experiences a zeitgeist-esque Spiritual Epiphany somewhere between the pages of How to Find the Love You Want Without Seeking It (can self-help books really help self?), protective custody, and a lightly chilled Chardonnay.
