In which we are thrilled, but perhaps not in the way intended.
Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination by Helen Fielding is a strange book in that it is somehow both a romantic comedy of sorts and a thriller. I think it suffers slightly from the association with Bridget Jones, because the combination should not really be impossible, but because Bridget is so very… well… fluffy, Olivia somehow becomes fluffy by association, which really isn’t fair (not that I don’t love Bridget, you’ve gotta love Bridget, but she’s hardly a heavyweight, is she?). So the thriller never really becomes a thriller because you never really manage to take poor Olivia seriously (well, I didn’t, anyway). It’s still a cracking good read, though unlikely to become the cultural phenomenon Bridget did.