Prudence

Sometimes there's nothing better than indulging in a bit of guilty pleasure. For me, there is no pleasure more guilty than a bit of Jilly C.

In my view, Jilly Cooper is where chicklit begins and ends. Her characters are silly and frivolous and their world utterly incomprehensible to the everyday 21st century woman, but it's brilliantly escapist. Her heroines are glamorous, beautiful and sophisticated and they know it. They all date knee-weakeningly handsome men called Pendle or Lazlo. I know it's trashy and I know it's silly, but I just can't resist!

Part of her girls' names series, Prudence follows the same delicious formula as the rest of Jilly's novels. Prudence is a glamorous girl about town, spending her time in 1970s Chelsea attending oodles of fabulous parties. At one more dull affair she meets the dashing and aloof (textbook Jilly) Pendle Mulholland. After showing a little too much enthusiasm on their first encounter, Pendle blows cold. Prudence is confused, but delighted when he invites her to meet his family. Is she finally getting through to him?

His family, of course, are riotous and seem to be more interested in each other's partners than their own. The house is a chaotic world of parties and glamorous guests and Prudence finds herself in the middle of some curious family skeletons tumbling out the closet. The Mullhollands are all handsome and dashing and Prudence becomes increasingly intrigued by Pendle's woman-chasing brother Jack and elusive Ace (yes, really...).

The plot is full of twists and turns, all brilliantly over the top, and fast-paced. One needs to completely suspend disbelief, but for me Prudence was one of my favourites in the series. It is pure, unadulterated escapism which I found myself racing through. Even at its most ludicrous (who on earth is called Pendle or Ace in real life??), it is always entertaining.

Don't get me wrong, the book is terribly dated in places (I did find my eyes widening at some of the less PC remarks which would definitely not make it through an edit in contemporary chicklit!). However, it's so refreshing from much of the post-Bridget Jones women's fiction of today. Jilly's heroines are confident, strong and have great self belief. There is no calorie counting and fretting about appearance; in the land of Jilly, there is nothing that can't be fixed with a bit of lipstick, a stiff drink and a quick wash of the hair.

Sure, it's hardly the definition of feminism but it's fun. When immersed in this book I was no longer packed into a Tube carriage, I was at a fabulous party with handsome, improbably-named men. So, if you're looking for a bit of fun, definitely give this a try!

(Available in paperback and ebook from the Random House website)

Thursdays in the Park

The "women's fiction" genre is not one that tends to be my cup of tea. I usually find the stories too predictable, the happy endings too obvious and the writing style too similar to every other book of its kind that's been produced. However, Thursdays in the Park seemed a little different. For one, it's characters are not twenty/thirtysomethings who live Sex & The City-lite lives. So, when it appeared for 20p on Amazon, I downloaded and thought I'd give it a go.

Jeanie is approaching sixty and in a safe but unsatisfactory marriage, which changed inexplicably one night when George, her husband, physically rejects her and spends the next ten years sleeping in a separate bedroom, not listening to Jeanie's thoughts or desires. Her escape is through visits to the park with her granddaughter, and it is on these visits she meets fellow grandparent, Ray. The two fall for each other, and this emphasises to Jeanie that the best days of her marriage are behind her.

Jeanie is bound by duty; as George is solid and not a bad person, she doesn't see the need to rock the boat. However, as her birthday approaches and George makes a decision, backed by her self-absorbed daughter Chanty, to up sticks and retire to the country, Jeanie feels increasingly trapped. Meanwhile, her relationship with kindly, sympathetic Ray develops she starts to pick up the courage to take control of her life; that is, until George tells her the real reason for his rejection in a shocking twist which obliges Jeanie even more to continue the path which leads her away from a future with Ray.

This was an interesting tale of family duty and obligation and a lesson that love and passion are universal across all decades of our lives. How to combat the rules we tie ourselves to which force us to remain in safe but unhappy situations is a theme applicable to all age groups and did force me as a reader to question just what action is best; the one that works for those I love, or the one that will make me happy? I also found George's character brilliantly frustrating; patronising, controlling and yet sympathetic all at the same time.

Sadly, as I progressed through the story, it wasn't these positive elements that stayed with me whenever I stopped reading to make way for my tube stop. There were a few stylistic things that distracted me. They were strange little things too. For example, it became something of a joke for myself trying to predict the length of the gap in pages between references to alcohol. Every scene seemed to contain at least one reference to a "chilled white", a "nightcap", a "delicious Rioja" etc etc...I wouldn't be surprised if a sequel to this was based in a rehab clinic. Joking aside, this formed one part of a checklist of slightly painful middle class cliches in this book. Jeanie owning a health food shop...tick! Daughter with a silly name...tick! That's before I even get onto the Polish shop assistant's inability to include the word "is" in sentences...

Anyway, enough of that. This was an easy read which was very enjoyable - if you like chicklit I think this is a great alternative perspective. Alas, I think it'll be a rare read where I'll rave about a book of this genre unless it is a complete departure from current rules of the form. But before you hold me to my word, you may wish to check out this great review from The Book Jotter.

(Available from Amazon in paperback or Kindle format)

You Had Me At Hello

Mhairi McFarlane's witty chick lit came to me when I was in a bad place. Struck by festive norovirus, this was an easy read to christen the Kindle I got for my birthday. Chick lit is something I used to regard as a guilty pleasure but as I've read more it's become slightly too predictable to retain its charm for me. Still, it was 99p on Amazon and came with lots of good reviews.

The good bits first: McFarlane's style is punchy and fun. She didn't resort to creating Bridget-Jones-had-she-been-born-in-the-80s. That pleased me. Rachel, the lead character, had a proper job but had become rather less ambitious over time as adult life became stagnant. This quarter life crisis theme is something I could definitely relate to. However, I found her clinging to her relationship with the slightly rubbish boyfriend odd, and it was one of the things that troubled me about this tale. If Ben, the supposed true love of her life, had been so right for her, would she really have stuck at it with her unsympathetic, bossy boyfriend throughout university, as she lived out those experiences that shape and define your adult person? I suspect not.

Another sore point; the friends. It's not McFarlane's fault. The friendship circle of diverse, ker-azeeee friends has been a cornerstone of the genre since Helen Fielding created Shazza and co. But, similarly to all supporting casts in chick lit, they are always two dimensional, and serve to juxtapose the leading character's experiences with the reality of the green grass of another life. The character and marital woes of Caroline are a case in point.

Finally, without wanting to ruin things, the ending. This really, really jarred for me. The main reason was, the character of Ben's wife. Without wanting to spoil things for potential readers, it was clear from the minute he announced their marriage to Rachel that Olivia, the wife, was a disposable character. Her sole purpose in the tale was to be a roadbump. When Rachel met her, I so desperately hoped this not to be true. Alas, McFarlane went for the obvious and created a character so cardboard that you didn't care what Ben saw in her, why he had married her, why he had put aside the memory of lost love for her. You were just flicking through the pages, waiting for Olivia's fatal error that would see her off and clear the path for Rachel.

This lost love theme seemed to be appropriately bittersweet towards the end. Elizabeth Noble handled it well in her The Way We Were; yes, first love is powerful. But it's been lost for a reason, and we could learn more from moving on. Sadly, McFarlane (SPOILER ALERT) went for the obvious, soap ending, which after the build up, just annoyed me. I couldn't suspend my disbelief any longer, and I felt cheated.

I don't want to dwell on the negatives. McFarlane delivered a fun, sparky and easy read and I was interested to see how events panned out for the characters. Her use of flashback, dipping in and out of the past to progress the tale, was not distracting and I thought a skillful way to develop the plot. All hallmarks of a good writer. I just think it didn't do her obvious talent justice to wind up in such a bubblegum, standard way. A couple of hours with Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz will show you that the grown up thing to do is to give up Dermot Mulroney to his bride and move on. If it hasn't happened yet, it ain't going to happen.

I did enjoy this book. I flew through the pages and it did provide a great bit of escapism while I was under the weather. A solid Tube read, which would've got a higher rating had it ended a few pages earlier. Or perhaps chick lit just isn't for me any more...

Image taken from Goodreads.com (http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15733851-you-had-me-at-hello)