So that brings me to two of the books I dug into over the holidays, about the fictional 30-something Londoner, Bridget Jones. I read them in order, Bridget Jones' Diary first and then Edge of Reason. I'd heard a great deal about these books when they were first published. But I was in no great hurry to read them. A few years ago, I went to see the first film with a male friend, who gave me a hard time about a comment I'd made about finding Colin Firth attractive. After reading Bridget Jones' Diary, which is a much more-detailed narrative -- as any book-turned-into-movie is when held up against its own movie -- it dawned on me recently how many "truisms" (or "truistic" concepts) about relationships between men and women sprang up in those books. Since it's Bridget's diary, it's supposed to capture her thoughts in a confessional way: blinding insecurities, obsessing about seemingly trivial things unnecessarily (ummm, is there a necessary way to obsess about the trivial?), unreformable tendency to procrastinate, etc. etc. etc. I've had these thoughts and tendencies, maybe not enough to fill a feature film, but certainly these ideas have paraded through my non-verbal brain on more than a few occasions.
I was discussing with a female friend recently how interesting it was that seeing Bridget Jones' Diary with a longtime male friend precipitated a discussion with him about... of all things, sexual tension. How did I broach the topic, you might ask? Well, firstly, it was 14 martinis later. (I thought I'd add this rather important detail. Not 14 martinis to myself, mind you, it was between the both of us... and they were all different...) See, I had this nagging feeling that my remark about Colin Firth's assets unexpectedly struck a nerve, and I felt compelled to ask my friend if he would either confirm or deny these nagging feelings of mine. But how does one do it?? Especially when you've known each other for a long time?
Well, that is why it took 14 martinis. Talk about procrastination! Finally, I could stand it no longer!
ME, blurting out at random: "Is there sexual tension between us?"
HIM, bursting out in laughter so forceful the empty martini glasses are rattling on the table: "Are you talking about me??"
ME, exasperatedly: "No, the guy behind you! Of course bloody YOU!"
HIM: "Well... yes... for me, at least..."
ME, totally bewildered: "Since WHEN??"
HIM, after seemingly interminable pause: "Since Day.... 2"
ME, even more bewildered: "What happened on Day 1?"
You might ask whether it's possible to have any clarity of situation after 7 martinis apiece, but I can assure you that if your longtime friend of significant years has just revealed something like that to you, you are very likely to remember it, rivers of alcohol coursing through your bloodstream notwithstanding. To make a long story short, or rather, end here, I shall say this friend and I have never entered the public domain of coupledom, but the feelings remain (I had the same feelings, and I admitted them to him), and those feelings remain unresolved. Or at least not pursuant to any sort of public declarations. Admitting sexual tension is one thing, acting on it is another, and making the private suddenly public is yet another! Some things are best left alone!
Anyway, my point here is relationship CONFUSION in the real world, poked fun at by the fictitious world. The Bridget Jones books, while at first glance might seem cotton candy fluffy, have this confessional quality (and popularity) that affirms the collective confusion of 30-somethings amidst the social pressures of modern society. Or, at the very least, Bridget sparks confessional utterances in its film viewers or novel readers (martinis not required). And the books and first film were rollicking good fun, despite some quibbles from me. They are fictional novels, after all. One is supposed to suspend disbelief. But I have to bring up some of my (unsuspended) disbeliefs:
** Bridget, as an underling in an office, wouldn't be pulling enough of a salary to buy a flat in what appears to be central London;
** None of the core group of friends -- Jude and Shazzer and Tom, for that matter -- seem to work that much in these books (reminds me of the show Friends that way; people living in sizeable apartments in New York with piddly jobs, spending lots of time sitting around in coffee shops);
** Why doesn't Bridget ever mention her brother in Edge of Reason?? Did Ms. Fielding suddenly forget Bridget had a brother?
** London is a huge city, but everybody keeps bumping into each other all the time;
** -- and this is a pet peeve of mine -- the American edition of Edge of Reason uses units of pounds instead of stone (14 lbs), which is the common measurement for a person's weight in Britain; the copy I have of Diary is the UK edition, so everything was as expected, then I get this Americanized version of Edge of Reason... it's annoying, like a bad translation...
Anyway, back to the regularly scheduled program, the suspension of disbelief and the acceptance of gaping plot holes, unrealistic scenarios, or inconsistencies for sake of entertaining story...
There's this funny bit in Diary in which Bridget asks why Smug Marrieds ask Singletons at every possible opportunity: "How's your love life? Got a boyfriend yet?"... it's not like Singletons ask Smug Marrieds at every opportunity: "How's your marriage? Still having sex?" That line just cracked me up...
Note: this post sort of breaks my quasi-cardinal rule about never discussing my love life on my blog site. But seeing as this friend never officially became part of my love life, I wouldn't technically be discussing my love life, right? Guess I won't be giving him the URL... or, I'll see what he thinks of Part II - Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, which is filming now... (no remarks about Colin Firth this time)
