Contentment

I'm not sure just where I'd be without Helen Fielding. Sure, I think she's a big reason behind the explosion of "chick lit," which I'm not so crazy about. But she's brilliant. And despite the frumpiness of Renee Zellwiger as Bridget Jones - the film's fault, not the author's - she creates sassy (if neurotic) heroines who give voice to both women's insecurities and their kick-ass qualities. Even if Rosie (of Cause Celeb) and Bridget could be a bit daft sometimes, I still kind of wanted to be them.

So imagine my joy at coming across Olivia Joules (of Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination). Utterly ridiculous title - I don't really like it. But pretty clear about the premise of the book - a freelance writer who decides the hot producer she meets on assignment is actually al Qaeda. (My overactive imagination seems so mundane in comparison.) The al Qaeda stuff is a little too much - and man, they have a lot going on in this novel - but I recommend just overlooking that as much as you can, so you can concentrate on the good stuff.

Fielding is so brilliant with her characters' ascerbic observations about both themselves and others. She exaggerates, sure, but there's still a hell of a lot of truth behind most of it. Also, how fun is the British term "snogging," which I guess is equivalent to hooking up short of sex (which would be shagging, obviously). And the banter is sublime. And I like romance. I saved this for a weekend minibreak, and read it at the coffeehouse, the pool, and the beach. Utterly perfect.

Also, Bridget Jones is back in the Independent, but you have to pay for it. Boo.