Alongside the Sex and the City books, Bridget Jones is hailed by many as the catalyst for the “chick lit” movement in literature back in the mid-90s. This genre, written by women about and for young (20s-early 30s), single women, often revolving around her dating life and friendships with other young, single women. The category took off in publishing and even sparked an imprint from romance biggie Harlequin (Red Dress Ink). Some would call the genre dead, others say it morphed into “mom lit” or “hen lit”. “Mom lit” was defined by the New York Times:
They are written in the wry voices of a generation of women who came of age after feminism, and they have a newly competitive, higher-end set of woes: $10,000 pacifier consultants, nanny-swiping and Harvard-like nursery school applications. Also present is chick-lit’s familiar cast of characters: the single best friend, the dutiful boyfriend (now husband) and a seductive other man who threatens to upset the apple cart. (Chick Lit, the Sequel: Yummy Mummy)
Even if you didn’t read the book, you may have seen the movie and know that Bridget chronicles her love life (torn between two men most of the time) in diary format. By the end of the second novel, Edge of Reason, Bridget was poised to marry the noble Mr. Mark Darcy. Fast forward a bunch of years to a newly widowed Bridget at 51. Mother to a 7 and 9 year old, Mad About the Boy meshes her foray into the dating world with that of her youngsters dealing with school issues and housecleaning. The book has gotten good reviews, many surprised by its humor and honest look at grief.
You’ll have to add your name to the waiting list to Bridget the third. But what’s a few more weeks when it’s been nine years?