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Mad About The Book

Before having children I was a bookworm; that is, I would spend hours and hours reading. I would read anything from crime to non fiction to chick lit (actually not anything. Other than Harry Potter I’m not a fan of fantasy.) I was especially fond of teenage and young adult fiction and I always enjoyed recommending books to reluctant readers at school. I would easily devour 4 or five books a week, I spent a fortune and was forever ransacking the bookshelves of friends and family for something new. I am a big fan of Jane Green, Tilly and Louisa Bagshawe and Sydney Sheldon and had firm favourites I’d read and re-read several times a year…

And then the children came along. So in four years i can count the number of books I’ve read for pleasure (my own pleasure, that is, The Gruffalo doesn’t count) on one hand:

Two.

Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
Bridget Jones Mad About The Boy

Thats sad. This makes me wonder what I actually do with all my spare time (just kidding, I have children and a job, I don’t have spare time).

We have just come back from a glorious week in Tenby with the whole family – the numbers vary from year to year, its anywhere between 25 and 30 of us – and although Tenby is the most beautiful place, there is no wifi. For someone who is on Facebook a lot, reads the news, emails and basically lives their life via the internet, this is a shock to the system. Its also nice to snatch those few minutes while waiting to go out for tea or on the beach while the kids are playing so the absence of wifi is a welcome relief after a while.

My lovely friend and fellow blogger, Laura, from Life is a Book lent me the new Bridget Jones a good few weeks ago after I spotted it on her bookshelf. I remember reading the first one when I was at college and loving it, although I have always been annoyed by just how disorganised Bridget is.

The newest one; Mad About The Boy, is brilliant. Its funny and sad and touching and slightly predictable but in a good way where you really want to get to the end to make sure that what you’re thinking really does happen in the way you want it to.

Spoiler Alert -Mark Darcy is dead. Ok, thats not much of a spoiler, you do find this out a couple of pages in but rather than delivering the news all at once and getting on with the story, the details are woven in and each detail is revealed slowly. What makes the story so sad in parts is that Bridget and Mark had two children together and as I was reading it I couldn’t help but put myself in Bridget’s Prada shoes and wonder how I would survive in that situation. The pain expressed is tangible.

I especially enjoyed the little details that we all recognise as mothers and can (usually) laugh about later on; such as both kids have sickness and diarrhoea at the same time and when one of them accidentally swears but you know exactly what they meant to say and so you never bother to correct them.

Mad About The Boy was a lovely, easy read and the signature diary style made it easy to read in short bursts between fishing kids out of the sea and spraying anyone who walks past with Factor 50. I managed to finish it in five days which, considering i haven’t flexed my reading muscles in a few years, is quite an achievement.

I now feel myself itching for something else to read…

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