I picked this up from the library last year, on the basis that the films were great, so the book should be even better, right?
this. It was just so, how do I put this, boring. The book version literally consists of Bridget checking how much she weighs, how many ciggarettes she smokes and swooning over a man she has barely met, but who she emails in the office.
I mean, who in their right mind writes about such things in a diary when you're in your late twenties/ thirties?