Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination by Helen Fielding

This book surprised me. Usually for me reading Brit chick lit results in eye clawing and mental shrieking. What can I say the phrases used and the regurgitated spunky yet clueless inner monologues irk the depths of my soul. I didn’t have those issues with Olivia Joules and the overactive imagination. So pigs must be flying in hell That doesn’t mean I like this book though. Olivia annoyed the shit outta me. She is another in the long line of too stupid to live heroines who taint my reading life. We discerning booksluts ought to rise up and cull them from the literary herd braveheart style. In a commercial break from my murderous rant lets get back to the review at hand. Olivia J-O-U-L-E- S (like the unit of energy not the shiny baubles will be from here on out referred to as OJ the orange of juice not the former football playing murder suspect.) is a failing journalist seemingly plagued by attention deficit disorder and paranoid schizophrenia. Her situation translated: Poor me, my career is stagnant because I keep handing in articles about the stupid shit I make up instead of my assignment My response to her situation translated: Cry me a river bitch Anyways things kick off when she’s subtly demoted from news to the style section of whatever newspaper she works for and is sent to some skin cream launch in Miami. Enter mysterious French Arabic dude who wants to make sweet jihad all over her zexy body. He supposedly makes slug skin cream and movies. She instantly decides he’s Osama bin Laden ( <-her words not mine) but then decides he’s just an al-Qaeda operative so she’s game for tongue wrestling. Stuff is blown up and * shock & awe* our jet setting sheik has dropped it like its hot flying the coop. So now OJ and 4 out of 5 doctors agree slug cream dude is a terrorist . So it makes perfect sense that she follows him to LA then accepts an invitation to his resort in (tropical place). C’mon look at that face of course she can trust him. So what if she doesn’t know him from adam and if he continues to lie about being a director? At least he’s stopped lying about being french. Now Ladies, that’s nothing to shake a stick at. All the while during OJ’s travel awkward and clumsy hijinks ensue. I guess they are supposed to funny but they just cement how much I loathe her. Pop quiz time kiddies: You just accepted a strange man and possible terrorist’s invitation to go diving at his private tropical resort. En route after some travel issues you find 5 kilos of cocaine in your carry on luggage ( btw why is coke always mentioned in 5 kilo bundles in film and novels? Why not 3? Or 8?). what do you do? Well if your OJ you flush it down the the porta-potty toilet and continue on with you to your death wish destination. Ha ha ha ha…. What a bunch of giggles. This is my stop, time to get of this ride. After 3 failed attempts to finish the remaining 1/2 of this bunk; it’s time to throw in the towel. I can’t bring myself to read anymore . Someones obviously gonna it eaten by sharks at some point coming…if only it could be her. If any of you fine folks out there in the e-world possess the perseverance to complete this book; please drop a comment with your take on it. Did it make you laugh? Cry? Tremble with rage and annoyance? Edit: found anothers blogger’s review for this & died laughing. Check it out it’s brilliant