November 18, 2002
42. Bridget Jones' Diary, Helen Fielding
I'm how many years late reading this book? I admit, parts of it were quite humorous, but I couldn't get over how amazingly self-destructive the heroine is--I couldn't get over it enough for it to be funny. And there's the whole "she gets her man in the end because he found all of her flaws irresistably quirky" crap that irked me. It reminded me a great deal of Good in Bed, complete with unexpected crisis at the end. (I realize, of course, that Good in Bed came afterwards and was a Bridget Jones clone.) Don't get me wrong, I did actually enjoy reading this book. So much so that I read it all in one day. It just irritates me that I enjoyed it, I guess. More guilty pleasures. I guess part of it was me going, "Wow, at least I'm not THAT screwed up about being 30 and single..."
41. A Rose in Winter, Kathleen E. Woodiwiss*
So rather than writing my own book this weekend (or reading any books for school), I buried myself in uber-feminine stuff of all sorts.
Mer and I bonded about this particular romance novel, which was a HUGE favorite of mine back in middle school and high school. Our lovely North-of-England heroine gets sold off into marriage by her brute of a father and finds herself wed to a masked, scarred cripple of a man, while secretly longing for the rakish Yankee ship's captain who always seems to be hanging about trying to seduce her. But then she falls in love with her husband, who despite always being masked and being somewhat scary, turns out to be very sweet and very good in bed. But now our heroine is in love with two men! Whatever will she do? I can't help it. I love this book with a deep and guilty love. I love all the plot twists and the agonizing and the ultimately happy ending. (I started reading this again for inspiration on my romance novel. I swear.)