The first paragraph of Michicko’s review of the new post-Bridget Jones Helen Fielding book features a very disturbing segue: “As Bridget Jones and most single women well know, there’s nothing worse than falling head over heels for a man, only to discover that he is not only the Wrong Man, but the Very Worst Sort of Man, a True Cad and Charlatan, or Someone Mad, Bad and Dangerous to Know. (O.K., there are worse things, like being half-eaten by your Alsatian dog and being found dead in your apartment three weeks later, but that is another story.)”
Actually, there are worse things than that. Perhaps more disturbing than its cavalier comparative placement is the fact than the Alsatian dog was actual news. Two years ago. So what we have here is the case of an overworked book critic who has been dwelling on this disturbing informational nugget for some time, just waiting to sneak it into a review.
We only hope that Michiko leaves her house sometime soon and that, if she has a pet Alsatian, the dog is friendly.
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