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The Last Year Of Being Single (MIRA) Paperback – 1 Jan 2008
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'Bridget Jones was, of course, the last word in chick-lit diaries. However, Tucker gives the genre new legs with this humorous account of sassy Sarah Giles caught between a celibate relationship with City banker Paul and an erotic office flirtation with a man called John Wayne.' --The Mirror
.'..earthily honest dairy...' --Peterborough Evening Telegraph
'A gritty and emotional diary about the complexities involved when leaving the singleton's life behind.' --Heat
For better or for worse?Everyone tells Sarah Giles how lucky she is to be with Paul O'Brian - a handsome city hot-shot who's steady, financially secure and knows how to throw the perfect dinner party. But what no one else knows is that her seemingly blissful relationship has been celibate for nearly five years.Sarah isn't looking to be rescued - least of all by a man called John Wayne! But what began as an innocent office flirtation is fast turning into erotic obsession. Sarah's plunging deeper into a double life. But which life is the lie?Torn between two men, the clock is ticking as Sara writes a scandalously honest diary of one life-changing year, and faces the challenge of creating her own happy ending...See all Product description
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This one has an irritatingly indecisive main character whose self-indulgence and rationalising soon becomes quite boring. Her behaviour, ignoring sound advice and, in particular her dishonesty, do not endear her to the reader. She professes to love Paul, but it’s unconvincing: does she even know what love is? She doesn’t act like it.Does she get what she deserves? Will the reader care enough to read the sequel, The Last Year Of Being Married? Written as a series of diary entries, this is a repetitive, self-indulgent and tedious read.
Please don't waste any money on this poorly written book with it's one dimensional and cliched characters and appalling layout and style. The author must be rubbing her hands together with glee that she has managed to fleece anyone out of their money to buy it. Thankfully, I borrowed the copy I read and hence didnt have to pay for it.
For a start - the dull, meandering 'plot': should the heroine remain faithful to sleazy knobhead boyfriend for whom she has a deep spiritual lurve or should she have an affair with sleazy knobhead colleague who is a rampant sexual animal? She drivels on about this for 200-odd pages. It's like being stuck inside the head of a particularly idiotic, self-obsessed teenage girl.
The characters hardly even qualify as one-dimensional - they are just collections of designer labels, cliched likes and dislikes, and flat, boring conversations, mostly about nipples or marriage. The dialogue is much like listening teenagers wittering on at the back of a bus, only less insightful and interesting. The heroine is completely unconvincing - we are constantly told how intelligent and special she is. She is not. The author attempts to imitate the style of Bridget Jones's Diary ('Must go to gym', 'Must stop obsessing about X' etc etc), but lacks Helen Fielding's skill and wit and ends up with a novel that reads like a shopping list. It is full of irritating mistakes: her friend is 'bonking' a yoga instructor who turns into an aerobics instructor a few lines later; she makes a big deal about wearing trousers for her hot date with the sleazy colleague, then later, back at his house, she has apparently changed into a skirt.
Chick-lit can be fun - a guilty pleasure, like watching Trisha in bed. But this is just shoddy, cynical crap. Avoid
God, I hate this book. So much, in fact, that I am unable to finish it. I detest the writing style. It is odd. Like this. Stop start. A few words. Then a pause. Then some more words. Then stop.
I love nothing more than a good chick lit novel. This really is dire, though. Inane, waffling drivel. And, Ye Gods!!! There is a sequel.