Influences - Bridget Jones’s Diary by Helen Fielding

My story as an author of epic, dark fantasy follows a well-worn path, starting, as these things always do, with my love of Bridget Jones’s Diary – hang on a minute …

But yes, honestly, this statement is completely true.  I’ve read and enjoyed lots of books over the years but very few of them have stayed with me.  Since I’m a slow reader, a smaller number of those are books I’ve read and reread.  One of those in that select group is Bridget Jones’s Diary and I had the pleasure of reading it again this month in preparation for writing this article.  It’s actually better than I remembered, sharper and full of keen observations that are as relevant today as when they were first written.

My love of Bridget goes back to February 1995, when a brand new column by Helen Fielding first appeared in The Independent newspaper.  Gradually, The Diary of Bridget Jones began to grip the nation, developing a loyal cult following.  There was even a serious debate within the press (this is where public debates took place before the internet and social media) about whether or not Bridget Jones was a real person.

Later that year I glumly returned to my parents’ house after leaving college without a job.  As I wondered what to do with my life I would eagerly await the arrival of The Indy, rifling through the pages to find Fielding’s column.  It sounds ridiculous but it really was one of the highlights of my day (other than trips to the Dole Office) and I devoured those daily articles.  I suppose I was living vicariously through Bridget’s chaotic and hilarious exploits and, frankly, I know I wasn’t the only one.  People began to latch on to this secret diary (yes, it really did feel like a confessional, and we all love one of those) and it was no surprise when it became a hugely successful novel in 1996.

Co-incidentally 1996 was also the year when, after various interim jobs, I finally got my big break and moved down to London to begin my ‘proper’ career.  My life became more interesting, I met new people, got the chance to do different things and I had a great time over the next three years.  It wasn’t lost on me that I was now working in the same city as Bridget.  The glamour!  The excitement!  Perhaps we could meet up …  Oh, wait, no – she wasn’t real.

Despite my familiarity with the column, I still picked up the battered, well-read novel pictured here in 1997 and have vivid memories of reading it during my time in London.  I was on a train that hot summer, just coming into Euston Station, when I turned over the final page and found, to my dismay, that the story was over.  I felt bereft, to the extent I had to remind myself (again) that Bridget wasn’t real, as I left the carriage and headed towards the Tube.  Yet the power of a novel is how it hooks you and draws you in to that fictional world.  You make an emotional connection with these characters and I really wanted to spend more time with Bridget and her dysfunctional, loving band of friends.  I missed Shazzer, Tom and Jude and I have that feeling all over again this evening now I’ve put the book down once more in 2022.  Perhaps I’ll slip it back into my reading schedule later this year.  Maybe I should see if The Edge of Reason holds up?

Whilst the novel comes in for some criticism Fielding knew exactly what she was doing and this book is ground breaking in so many ways.  Bridget herself recognises the lunacy of her dieting habits, calorie counting and feeling incomplete without a man and Fielding relentlessly pulls to pieces all of these destructive behaviours.  It’s a classic example of show, don’t tell.  What stands out to me, as fresh as it was in the mid-1990s, is the honesty.  Women could really relate to Bridget and her experiences, because of course Fielding was pouring so much of herself into this creation.  Whilst the humour makes this ‘palatable’ for a mass-market audience, and Bridget Jones is packaged and presented as light chick-lit, Fielding is highlighting some very uncomfortable truths in this book, especially when it comes to sexual politics and power in the office.

Bridget Jones’s Diary is a funny, laugh out loud book partly because it’s also true and people recognised their own life, told through her voice.  I have to remind myself, again, that Bridget is not a real person.  However, the novel speaks to people about real life and that’s why the book holds up so well, all these years after publication.

I’ve just turned to a page at random, to find Bridget failing at working from home and it instantly makes me smile.  There’s the wicked humiliation of the Tarts & Vicars Party, or the spectacular disaster of Bridget’s culinary adventures.  It’s also true that no one could programme a video recorder in the 1990s and back then a portable phone was still a novelty.

That’s great and all very well but what, I hear you ask, has this got to do with dark, epic fantasy?

Oops – I might have gotten carried away.

Back in 1995 I was bored and unemployed.  To make life slightly more interesting, I decided to keep a diary, where I recorded the highs and lows of trying to find a job I considered worthy of my talents.  A year on I was somewhat unimpressed to find I was still writing this.

Then in 1996 all my dreams came true and I trotted off to London to begin my life as a proper adult with my own flat (rented, obviously) and the excitement of leaving the North for this shiny new city.  My job-hunting diary became my ‘exciting London life’ diary, which by now had morphed into an unashamed pastiche of Bridget Jones.

In the following years I recorded my various exploits, channelling Bridget’s energy and attitude to life to make them sound far more interesting than they actually were.  Looking back now all those years later, do I remember those times fondly because they were fun or because I wrote them down and that helped commit them to memory?  Whatever the reason, my diary documented me donning a pair of pyjamas because it was bedtime, only to find that, despite coming downstairs in suitable night attire, the party was still in full swing and no one was going home any time soon.

Another vivid memory is the time I finally worked up the courage to ask a particular girl out on a date.  I thought we’d enjoyed a pleasant evening and was looking forward to meeting her again.  However, when I asked her if she’d like to repeat the experience, her response of “No, I don’t think so,” as we parted company in Liverpool Street Station will remain burned on my mind forever. 

And who could forget the date at a posh Chinese restaurant, with a different girl, several months later?  Without realising what had happened, I found to my horror we’d entered the friend zone and she had no idea I thought this was a date.  I had to endure two hours listening while she talked about her simply brilliant boyfriend (who I knew nothing about, until that evening, obviously).  He sounded like a great chap but this wasn’t an experience I’d ever wish to repeat.  It was the first time I had ever used chopsticks, which helped prolong the conversation considerably.  Now, whenever I use chopsticks they trigger this memory.  Always.

I no longer keep a diary.  Perhaps one day I’ll rummage around in my loft, dig out and dust off those old pages and reacquaint myself with the person I was in my twenties.  Perhaps I won’t.  The important point to this story is Bridget Jones’s Diary inspired and ultimately was instrumental in forming my writing habit.  Reading about someone talking about real life and making it interesting, witty and funny made me look at myself in a different way.  There’s joy and interest to be had in the ordinary things of life and I really enjoyed writing about my own mundane experiences.  Once the writing habit formed there was no going back and eventually I found myself sitting down at my laptop to begin work on my first (appalling) novel.  That was when I stepped into a bigger world, one that’s led me to having one of the best experiences of my life.

I owe an awful lot to Bridget Jones.

It’s been a long day, so it’s time to post this.  I think I’ll sign this one off with a quick review of some key statistics:

Weight 13st 7 (the slow decline into middle-age continues – must consider new trousers), alcohol units 12 (but includes single malt, thus maintaining key industries in Scotland), cigarettes 0, calories 4,212 (but includes artisan cheese, thus supporting rural jobs and countryside of beloved England), number of times Amazon Dashboard refreshed to check own book sales figures 18 (v.g. exemplifies progress and personal growth)