One thing’s for sure: one of these two ex-boyfriends is the father of Bridget Jones’ baby.
“What would the Dalai Lama do?” Bridget asks herself when she arrives 15 minutes late to the christening of her friend Magda’s baby in the opening pages of Fielding’s (Mad About the Boy, 2013, etc.) fourth entry in this still-funny series about everyone’s favorite dizzy British blonde. The Dalai Lama would probably not proceed to shag her ex-boyfriend Mark Darcy, whom she hasn’t seen in years and who was until very recently married to a “stick insect” but has been sneakily appointed godfather to the same baby. When Darcy comes to his senses and makes himself scarce post-shag, would the Dalai Lama proceed to get drunk and naked with another famous fuckwit, her ex-boss, pompous television personality–turned-novelist Daniel Cleaver? Well, you never know. Perhaps the Dalai Lama would prudently refuse to have amniocentesis to determine the paternity of the baby out of fear of harming both the fetus and the gauzy thing that passes for a plot in these pages. (Though if you’ve read the previous book in the series, set many years in the future, you know whose child it is.) Pregnant Bridget is caught between her perennially smashed and slurring singleton friends and the tedious “Smug Marrieds”: “Guess what? We’ve found you a nanny: Eastern European. She’s got a degree in neuroscience from the University of Vilnius.” Distracted by her predicament, Bridget’s job performance is not at 100 percent. When a new producer is brought in to clean house at Sit Up, Britain, demanding stories with tension, action, and suspense, Bridget scours the news to no avail. “They’re slimy, they’re creepily silent—and they’re lurking in your arugula—frogs!” “They’re hexagonal, they suddenly change their form and they gouge out your eyes—umbrellas!”
One hopes the Dalai Lama gets his hands on this book as soon as possible. If he can’t clear up the morality questions, he’ll at least get a good laugh.