Do you know what it is like to go back to an old lover? That rush of memories, that cosy familiarity, that tug of habit... you revel in the joys of the known, wondering how you got by without them. And then those annoying ticks that had put you off begin to resurface and you can’t wait to get out. Again.
Reading Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’s Baby is a bit like that. If the world’s most famous singleton has been your soul sister, you’ll feel the stirrings of real love as the book begins with Bridget hung-over, late for a christening and being talked down to by her mom over the phone.
As the title suggests, our sexy klutz is having a baby. One tiny problem. She doesn’t know who the father is — Mark Darcy or his nemesis, Daniel Cleaver.
We are told how Darcy had called off their wedding because Bridget never seemed completely Cleaver-free to him. In this book, she becomes intimate with both within a matter of two days and with dolphin-safe contraception that dissolves after its shelf life! Thus she isn’t sure who the father is and lands up at baby scans and birthing classes with two daddies in tow. Much hilarity ensues.
Old chums Shazzer and Tom and Bridget’s annoying mum and sane dad are brought back and the reader keeps yoyo-ing between mild humour, the comforts of familiarity and mind-numbing repetition of gags.
The end, though predictable, is classic Bridget, with her sending off a mass email saying baby has been born even before he is actually born, and signing off with “Bridget died in childbirth”.
Though the events of Bridget Jones’s Baby follow Book 2, The Edge of Reason, this is technically Book 4. The third book, which came out in 2013, had skipped ahead to a time when Mark Darcy is dead, leaving a 50-year-old Bridget as a mother of two and trying to get back into the dating game. It was a horror ride for Bridget and for us readers.
Bridget Jones’s Baby has been made into a film of the same name. It released in September, though not in Calcutta. Because Hugh Grant didn’t agree to reprise his role as Daniel Cleaver, the script killed him off and added a mysterious stranger, Jack, whom Bridget meets and mates with at an Ed Sheeran concert. This Jack, played by Patrick “McDreamy” Dempsey, becomes one of the possible fathers, the other being Colin Firth (still yummy) as Mark Darcy.
We hope Bridget Jones’s Baby comes on Indian Netflix soon.
Samhita Chakraborty
Abheek Barua’s debut novel, a whodunit titled City of Death (Rs 399), hooks from the first page. The opening chapter introduces you to a spine-chilling murder by a psychotic vigilante. Set in an unnamed city that is evidently Calcutta, the murder and its investigation bring cop Sohini Sen back into business, that too on the chief minister’s recommendation. Both she and you wonder why. Sohini struggles with addiction and depression, and has suicidal tendencies.
Reading along, you encounter a number of demons — the system that declares Sohini corrupt, the media that tries and tires her, and a deadly secret that gnaws at relationships of the wealthy. And the murderer, who in classic whodunit style cannot be traced till the very end, is hidden behind the many twisted characters.
What’s even better than a satisfying murder mystery? An epilogue that seems to promise more. (The book is titled The Beheading on the Juggernaut app, Rs 120.)
Riddhima Khanna
If it’s a particularly attractive shoe on the cover of a book, chances are it’s a Lauren Weisberger. Her latest, The Singles Game: It’s a match made in hell (Harper, Rs 350) even has a subtitle reminiscent of her debut success, The Devil Wears Prada. But there’s no devilish delight to be had here. Charlie Silver and her new coach Todd Feltner aren’t a match at all. They’re a direct clash of personalities with Charlie’s old-fashioned gentility taking regular beatings from Todd’s new-age brusque.
This book would possibly be better read by people who are glued to the television when the big league tennis matches are on. For someone who feels “love all” for the game, the book is a drag. Don’t read this one for the romance; there’s none. Read it for a glimpse of the tennis world, what really happens when the players are off the courts and how difficult their lives can be.
Charlie Silver is the prop that makes everyone else seem interesting. What the novel brings to the forefront is that it takes more than just talent to be a professional athlete, it takes a certain kind of personality. The Singles Game traces Charlie’s journey towards that personality, while painting an interesting picture of the sporting world. Love takes a back-seat when professional success holds the wheel. Charlie has to settle for sexual intrigue with the rich and famous while her friends and family find relationships made of sturdier stuff.
For all its glamour, the conclusion is an anti-climax in a bland combination of submission and a hint of romance. Too bad you didn’t pay more attention to the object of her affections; he was more important than someone who flitted in and out of her court but as it turns out, life always has other plans. Not that we were holding our breath for this mixed doubles after the tepid tournament.
Ramona Sen
