I read this book in my parents minivan one summer back in high school. I liked it. Then I read it again and realized how foolish and stupid it was.
I remember having a conversation with my family about the story over dinner and I made condescending, literary snob comments about it, about Bridget, about Helen Fielding. Two of my sisters were annoyed with me, as they steeped in their love for the vapid drivel. Then I pulled out the big guns: “It’s essentially Pride and Prejudice revamped and modernized.”
My two sisters, in unison: “No it’s not!”
We may have argued it for a while, I laid it out for them, they didn’t give in. I think I heard one of them, years later, comment to someone else on it being the same story and I felt vindicated.