People screw up, people make mistakes. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Many thanks to the publisher for a paperback copy for an honest review. I'm kind of angry that this book was published. Bryony is now 32 and lives in South London with her baby daughter Edie and her husband, a financial journalist. A man will change everything. Her Telegraph column was a diary of her daily screw-ups; she lived in a series of squalid shoe boxes; and her most meaningful relationship of the entire decade was with a Marlboro Light. Bryony's wonderfully ridiculous and ultimately redemptive story is essential reading for everyone whose 'best years' weren't quite what they were expecting.
What annoyed me most of all is that this book makes her seem so incredibly desperate for a boyfriend. Fucked up as she was, she never crossed that line into territory of no return. Hope you're having a great one! Having read her other books first it was interesting to go back and read this. Widely billed as the next Bridget Jones, I would disagree. The drug addiction because that I am reading this book as a 25 year old, and all I can say is that if any of my girlfriends started behaving in the same way as Bryony, I would call an intervention.
And after spending the night in Josh's bed he thows a pink pair, silky knickers which land in her lap, Agent Provocater label side up, and he remarks to her those are pretty knickers. It's the most truthful, evocative and hilarious account of what it is to be a twenty something girl in Britain that I've read in a very long time. The wrong knickers part of it was actually hysterical. It always starts starts with a kiss. Light, funny non-fiction told as a series of linked anecdotes—such as Adam Kay's This is Going to Hurt and Trevor Noah's Born a Crime—and tongue-in-cheek political sketches, like Fire and Fury, seem to be ideal.
Her Telegraph column was a diary of her daily screw-ups; she lived in a series of squalid shoe boxes; and her most meaningful relationship of the entire decade was with a Marlboro Light. It was horribly painful to read the self-destructiveness of the author in what is apparently a true autobiography. The reality was something of a shock. Not a regular newspaper reader, Gordon was unknown to me until I read The Wrong Knickers and now I'm just wondering where the hell I've been. I decide to send him one myself, one that looks as if I have just casually sent it to everyone in my phone book. There's no doubt she's a smart ish hack with a decent enough turn of phrase, but her tales are so sordid and removed from my comparatively tame 20s that I found it all a bit too car-crash. It's hard to read sometimes, and you just want to scream at her to get a grip.
Would probably make our lives a little easier to be perfectly honest. Impressive for a book that starts with a man proferring a stick of Lurpak at the woman he's brought home for a one-night stand. She just went from bad to disgusting. I would have given it four stars but in parts it felt a bit aimless. But here it just had me shaking my head in disbelief all the time. The cover may be pink but the story is black. And like Bryony, I think it's about time we owned it.
Stop blaming your parents' divorce and being so bloody dramatic. Her Telegraph column was a diary of her daily screw-ups; she lived in a series of squalid shoe boxes; and her most meaningful relationship of the entire decade was with a Marlboro Light. Click for part one; for part two. I wanted to shake her awake. I was cringing throughout the book.
I recommend this book to all women who feel they aren't getting anywhere, and all people who read and loved Caitlin Moran's How To Be a Woman. Bryony Gordon survived her adolescence by dreaming about the life she'd have in her twenties: the perfect job; the lovely flat; the amazing boyfriend. There were some parts that made me smile faintly, but only faintly. Definitely read this and all her other books! It's the most truthful, evocative and hilarious account of what it is to be a twenty something girl in Britain that I've read in a very long time. She is unable to exercise any kind of self discipline and is the kind of w I used to enjoy Bryony Gordon's columns in the Telegraph, but then, shock horror, she had a baby and became one of the smug marrieds and I now find her columns completely unreadable.
I loved every bit of it and the wrong knickers story is hilarious. I actually feel fretful and guilty, as if I have led him on. It is all about men and that made it annoying and boring. But somehow, she is incredibly endearing. The worst thing is that, to allow my ridiculous fantasy of a life together to continue to flourish, I find myself making up an excuse instead of telling him to get lost.
I'm not sorry I read it though - it's a light read, and funny in places. And be honest, really truly - whether it lasted for a week or a decade, we've all been there to some degree. The writing style makes it seem like you are being told this riveting tale by your rather candid best friend, or even better, a drunken stranger you've just met in your local, who will become your best friend. My take-away lesson was that perhaps being a responsible, successful member of society is not the way to find a nice husband. But the book did not develop from that. This is a book about growing up, not being grown up.