Tuesday, March 14, 2000
'Bridget Jones' author knows her subject v. well
BY JIM KNIPPENBERG
The Cincinnati Enquirer
Isn't it just like Bridget Jones? Helen Fielding is 20 minutes late for the interview, but has an apology ready: “Sorry. I'm chronically late.”
V. bad, as Bridget would write in her diary.
But V. good indeed when Fieldinghit Books and Co. in the Dayton suburb of Kettering on a nine-city book-signing tour.
You know Fielding, author of Bridget Jones' Diary (Penguin; $12.95), the 1998 cult classic about the 30something Bridget, London Singleton (Bridgetspeak for the opposite of Smug Married) addicted to self-help books, obsessed about everything, searching for a boyfriend, a good shag, a swig of Chardonnay and inner poise as she careens through one v. bad mishap after another. V. hilarious.
And soon to be a movie starring Renee Zellweger.
Wellsir, Fielding's back with Bridget Jones, The Edge of Reason (Viking; $24.95), the next year in Bridget's out-of-control life.
V. funny. And same old Bridget, the 128-pound drama queen who sees a one-pound weight gain as a “terrifying slide into obesity.”
She has a boyfriend in Edge, loses him, then reclaims him after heaven only knows how many “alcohol units,” late night sessions with pals Jude and Shazzer, a week in a Thai jail (misunderstanding, but still v. bad) a death threat, a hideous week at her BBC job and 15,033,600 minutes (“cataclysmic crisis”) without sex.
So here's Fielding in front of 80 people, 70 of them women claiming they're Bridget, reading and signing books, insisting she's 22 (“I lie a bit”), never drinks (“Well, that could be a lie, too”) and would never smoke as much a Bridget (“don't ask”)
Anyway, Eye wanted to ask her a few things. Would have asked more, but in true Bridget style, got lost driving around Dayton and time ran short. V. dumb.
“Ask me anything. I'll make up answers if you get cheeky.”
The reason I haven't written a self-help book ...
Some people say I have. If I did, it would be Women Who Love Self-Help Books Too Much. People call me Bridget quite a lot. They act like I'm pope or something — because of all the self-help books in my book — and think I know something. Durrr.
If Bridget asked me for advice, I'd tell her ...
Don't worry, be happy. No ... I'd tell her, bless you, my child. You are Bridget Jones.
The thing I hear most often from American readers ...
Are you Bridget Jones? I tell them no, I don't smoke, I don't drink and I'm a virgin. Unless I'm smoking and having Chardonnay. Americans laugh more at the book, too.
As opposed to English readers ...
They tell me I'm Bridget. Me. I did live in London and work in media, so I know the world and I've lived the life. But Bridget's exaggerated. And I've never been to jail in Thailand.
The worst thing Hollywood could do to Bridget ...
Would be to cast an anorexic teen-age model. I haven't met Renee, but I know she's funny. And she's learning an English accent, so that's good.
If it were Bridget on this book-signing tour instead of me, her diary would say ...
“Oh dear, plane left without me. Inner poise, be calm.” I haven't missed a plane, but close — there's always a suitcase debacle — because I run late. I think I can get anywhere in a negative amount of time.
Knip's Eye View appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. Have an item to report? Call Jim Knippenberg at 768-8513; fax: 768-8330.
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