F
I E L D I N G C A L L
S An
interview with Helen Fielding, By
Lizzie Skurnick Cigarettes
1 (counts as 1/2 as cadged off co-worker), cups of coffee 1 (excellent;
will conquer insomnia as read in Self), turkey burgers successfully
eaten for L-tryptophan to reverse spell of jitters set on by Coke sipped
to make up for appallingly low amount of caffeine absorbed in morning 1,
number of times checked AOL to see if boyfriend is online 8 (poor; must
free self from "Buddy List"), Number of IM fights with boyfriend 3 (v.
poor, must fight in "safe space", not "cyberspace"), number of minutes
spent reading Camille Paglia in Salon while ostensibly preparing for
interview with Helen Fielding appx. 47. Decide,
as research for interview, to trot downtown to see Helen Fielding's
first reading in the US, at the Astor Place Barnes & Noble. Muscle
through oddly blonde crowd and try to spot author, who is hiding behind
CNN cameraman. Find pen for official note-taking journalist stance.
Realize official journalistic stance is undermined by fact that, as have
forgotten notepad, am writing on the back of employee phone-number sheet
from work. Observe HF take to podium-immediately make note to revise
theory that all British women dress like Tina Brown/Diana, Princess of
Wales/Hyacinth Bucket. Covet HF's subtly iridescent brown suit,
sling-back heels, and tiny gold earrings. Understand must buy shoes
like/model life after/triumphantly publish novel at age forty like new
guru HF. Completely taken, with rest of packed, sweltering room, with HF's
charm and frequent witticisms. Decide, as first act of homage, to style
interview preface like Diary. Suddenly realize all reporters will
utilize Bridget-style for articles. V. irritated. For
our members, could you tell us a little about your early career in
journalism, and what led you to channel Bridget Jones? I
started out working as a producer for the BBC on a light current affairs
program. Over the years I did lots of other things, ranging from
documentaries in Africa to a program for two year-olds. I worked at the
BBC for ten years. Then I started doing quite a lot of things in Africa
for Comic Relief. I was making documentaries in Sudan and Ethiopia for a
fundraising program. And I also worked on a documentary about the war in
South Sudan. Then I decided to leave television because I wanted to
write. I'd always wanted to write. With writing, in sharp contrast to
television, there's nothing much between you and what comes out the
other end. So I started trying to get into newspapers. I remember
ringing up the Guardian every week for six weeks asking them if they'd
read my article on car burglary alarms; it was always no. Finally I got
a contract with the Sunday Times, and started doing big features that
were funny observational things. I left that and wrote my first novel
which is set in Africa, Cause Celeb. Then I started writing for the
Independent, writing a newspaper column and general features. And they
asked me to write a column about myself. Of course I said no, because
that's rather exposing. And they said, 'Why don't you make someone up'.
I'd already been thinking about this sitcom idea with a character like
Bridget, who's got all these big plans and never sticks to them. I was
writing my second novel and I needed a bit of cash to help me along, so
I said, I'll do that, it won't last very long. I didn't sign it as me,
and I didn't tell anyone it was me. Did
you find that writing the novel in column form had any effect on the arc
of the final novel? Were you following current events as you went along? And
how much reworking did you have to do? A
lot, really. Structure, writing new bits, it's a new story line. And a
lot of what I put into the book went into subsequent columns, so it's
very much feeding off each other. And
you're still doing the Bridget columns, is that right? Yes,
for the Daily Telegraph. As
I'm sure you've noticed, Bridget's dropped-pronoun style is very catchy.
I wanted to know if this form of Bridget-speak was deliberate, and if
you had any ideas about why it was such an effective style. Oh,
we started talking like that for fun at the Sunday Times. There's a
column in Private Eye, the British satirical magazine, where they pick
out self-obsessed column writers by counting up the number of times they
say "I" in their pieces. I tried never to say it so that I would never
get into there. And also, my column was supposed to be exactly a
thousand words. It's like filling up the petrol in the car - you always
try to get it exactly to land at 20 pounds. So I always try to make it
exactly a thousand words, and the way I do that is instead of taking out
chunks, I just take out words. Unnecessary words. It's really pushed up
the self into the divine. So I've never been in that Private Eye column. Now
- it's fuckwittage...? Oh
no! It's the French - fuckwittage, fuckwittage. Oh,
good - like sabotage. Now, what is the derivation of fuckwittage? A
friend of mine, whose boyfriend stood her up for relationship
counseling, came up with it. But I think it also comes up in a very
funny British comic called Viz, an underground comic. There's a
character in it called Freddy Fuckwit. I heard that last night,
actually. I
found it very refreshing to have a heroine who was, in short, a very
appealing mess, but I know in the US, at least, there's been some
backlash against her: reviewers have felt that Bridget was not together
enough, that the character was almost anachronistic. I was wondering
what your view was of all of this. Well,
before I came to America, there was an open letter to Bridget in the
Evening Standard saying, "Don't go [to America], they won't like it.
Americans don't understand irony." It's important to understand that
Bridget's a comic character, an exaggerated, comic character. If we
women can't laugh at ourselves, and have comic characters without having
a panic attack, then we haven't got very far. A
New York editor recently commented that Bridget Jones's Diary should not
be compared to the other works of Jane Austen or to Ally McBeal, but
truly was closest to a very popular book in America, Philip Roth's
Portnoy's Complaint. Are you familiar with that novel? I'm
not familiar with that. Someone in Britain compared her to Lorelei Lee
in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes. The other day, an English writer said to
me, "You only find out what your book's about after you've published it."
You know, this started out as a very small thing that made people laugh,
and I guess people take all sorts of things from it, which I think is
fine. Do
you have a favorite view of Bridget-as-media sensation? I
think my favorite would be the Italian reviewer who called it "a
transcendental study of existential despair." I was very excited by my
newfound profundity. In
the book, Bridget often envies her mother's ability to enter into the
sort of women's magazine dream-world lifestyle that she covets. Do you
think single women today are better or worse off than their mothers'
generation in terms of their dealings with romance and men? Well,
Bridget certainly doesn't, but she revises her view when it turns out
her mother's wanted by the police, and is being duped by someone who
turns out to be not some sort of Portuguese dream-god, but a time-share
con-man. If anything, the novel sets up lots of ideas only to knock them
down. These are confusing times. With the explosion of mass media, there
are all sorts of ideas peddled about - how one should be, how one should
live. Bridget's sort of paralyzed in the middle of it, hopping about,
taking a little bit from here and a little bit from there. How
much of an effect do you think the media has in giving women
schizophrenic psyches? Bridget's
certainly haunted. She has a sort of perpetual twenty-four hour mascara
advert running in the back of her head - you know, the idea of whizzing
from the gym to the boardroom to the immaculate dinner party for twelve
that she's cooked to wild, simultaneous orgasm with the perfect man. And
from talking with women at readings all over the place, I've seen that
some women enjoy laughing at that notion, instead of stressing out at
the gap between the perfection we think we should be aspiring to and
what we're really like. But I certainly feel fond of Bridget, because I
think she's not just a mess - she's actually also a very optimistic,
spirited soul, who's trying very hard to get it right. She just she
doesn't know yet what "it" is. I
agree - I think [the dissenting critics] have very poor senses of humor. I
mean, it's obvious that some people will [take offense at Bridget] - it
has to be said. A British journalist recently said that before Bridget,
women everywhere had been getting on with their work and thinking about
the Third World, but since the book came out they've all begun to smoke
and think about men. So I felt a total sense of responsibility, and I
was going to write people a warning telling them not to be led astray by
this irresponsible book. Also pointing out that my first book was about
the Third World [Cause Celeb]; it was set in a refugee camp. But nobody
bought that one. Is
that one still in print? Will it be back? It
is in the UK; it's started to sell on the back of Bridget. Lately,
from Ally McBeal to Bridget Jones, it seems that the single woman has
become the new "It Girl"… why do you think people are seizing on this
figure now? With
any of these zeitgeist-y things, there's always a very good reason. I
think there was something wrong before, because there are lots and lots
of single women and men - I think a quarter of all households in Britain
are single - and yet there was a lack of proper identity for it. The
perception was of the old-fashioned spinster, that if you were single in
your thirties, there had to have been some appalling mistakes somewhere
along the line. Bridget suffers from the whole why-aren't-you-married
question, to which she always wants to reply, "Because under my clothes,
my entire skin is actually covered in scales." But in fact there's
really good reasons why women would be single in their thirties. They've
got economic power now, which they didn't have a hundred years ago, or
whenever the expression spinster was coined. They're not going to
compromise if they've got a job and their own financial independence and
a really great bunch of friends. I mean, Bridget's so about the urban
family that you create. Let's
talk a little bit more about how the urban family figures in your novel. Well,
a very great inspiration was Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City. I was
trying to create a generic urban family for Bridget, so she's got her
single friends, her gay friends, her smug married friends, which
together form a very strong emotional setup. It's almost like a tribe.
It's all done over the phone, or email, but they're still proper, good,
lasting relationships that perform a lot of the functions of the family.
That goes back to the question of single women, that they're not
pitiable creatures with barren emotional lives, but quite the opposite.
Contrasting the smug married friends and Bridget, I tried to show that
the grass is always greener. You know, Magda envies Bridget's ability to
lie in the bath on Sunday morning, and to not have to feed egg into a
long row of mouths. And
to not have an adulterous husband. Yes,
and Bridget envies Magda's being able to go shopping on weekdays and
having all that backup and stability and support. It's just two
different ways of living. Actually, most people do both at different
stages in their lives, these days. I
think that's true. Do you think young women today feel exhilarated or
paralyzed from their increased independence and options? Well,
I think it's not so much the swinging singles as it is the mood-swinging
singles. Going to some wildly elated, 'Hurrah' and 'everything's
marvelous!' state to, 'I'm going to die alone and be found half-eaten by
a dog'. But I think that's not just true for single people - I think for
most people it's a mixture of up and down. Where
would you place yourself in the British canon? What
cannon? I thought we'd stopped using those with nuclear war. [Much
giggling] For example, some compare your work to Jane Austen's. I see
you alongside Fay Weldon and Martin Amis. I was wondering who some of
your favorite writers were, and who you saw yourself with. Well
that's sort of an impossible question to answer; it's the sort of
question you'd rather other people would answer and make flashy
comparisons. Martin Amis is a wonderfully flashy comparison. I'm
appalled no one's mentioned Shakespeare. How
about Stephen Fry? I
don't know, you can't place yourself. I'm still getting used to the fact
that it's got to the bestseller list in the first place. How
have you dealt with sudden fame? At
home, it's not really to do with me, it's Bridget. It's not like anyone
would know that I wrote Bridget when I'm walking down the road. I'm
quite protective of that, and don't do lots of publicity. So
are you more of a homebody? In
what way? I
meant, are you liking touring? Oh,
I see what you mean. You know the book's gone to number 3 on the Times
bestseller list. And I suddenly said, 'Oh no, what's this going to mean?'
And I have this vision that keeps on popping up, of me in these huge
gold spectacles and lip-liner, living in one of those sorts of low-style
condominiums, with deep white shag pile carpets, bulbous coffee tables,
sort of rustily shouting, "Where's my stretch limo?" Which is sort of a
horrifying thought. But everything that happened with this book happened
in less than a year, and I've been very very busy just doing stuff with
it, like promotions and all that. And I loved being on tour in America,
just because people in America have been so generous with Bridget. I
think it's much easier being on tour when you get on the bestseller list
and people laugh at you rather than sit in appalled silence. And I love
travelling and I love hotels. And I don't know America. I've been a
couple of times. It's just fantastic to go to San Francisco and stay in
a lovely hotel and have tea with Armistead Maupin. It's heady and
glamorous, and I think anyone who's been a journalist for years and
years-as we all know it's quite a slog, though not as much of a slog as
other people's lives-would be mad not to think this is a great time and
just enjoy it, even if I can't always find the hotel light-switch. Have
you found that the response has differed in different countries, or do
you get similar comments everywhere? Pretty
much. I've had a really good reaction here. I mean the best sense I get
is when I'm reading, actually face-to-face with a hundred women. They
aren't writing for a newspaper and saying, 'what's everyone going to
think?', they're just listening, and I've found that they've got a
really good sense of irony and fun. They also confess romantic their
debacles with a great sense of glee, which I really enjoy. I've always
found women, my women friends, funny, just hilarious - they delight in
their own debacles really, which is very healthy, because it means you
can turn everything to humor. It's a great ballast, I think. What's
your favorite response so far? Well,
there was a very formal letter to the Independent saying, "Dear Sirs: I
would quite like to shag Bridget Jones. Could you let me have her phone
number, please? Yours faithfully, etc." It was so formal, and it was the
'quite' I liked - that was really nice. And a young woman in Washington
said to me, "It's nice instead of stressing out about your neuroses to
just laugh at them." That sort of summed it up for me, really. Have
you had any really strange responses to Bridget? I
did get some quite odd letters from elderly British colonels, with a few
perfunctory paragraphs about the freshness of the prose, and then four
pages about the way Bridget's blouse brushes against her breasts. But
what I find most strange is the over-analysis of the book - it's just
quite strange when you wrote something lightly. I mean, OK, I thought
about the structure; I thought about the urban family; but that's kind
of as far as it went. If I knew so many people were going to read it, I
probably wouldn't have written it - or been quite so cheeky. So
about how many times would you say you've been asked if you're Bridget? Let's
see… five times a day, times three-hundred and sixty-five…
two-thousand. About two-thousand. [Laughs.] A lot of times. Have
you settled on a stock response, or do you just make up a new one each
time? I
have two. I have two bullet points. It depends on whom I'm talking to,
really; it depends on the situation. If a person says, "Are you Bridget
Jones?" at the point when I'm about to leave for America and half of my
clothes are in my suitcase and half of them are on the floor and I have
to ring up the suitcase help-line to find out how to open the suitcase,
I think I'd have a hard time saying no with a straight face. But the
truth is, there is some of her in me, otherwise I couldn't write it. But
there's also probably a lot of her in other people. The other thing I
sometimes say is that I don't drink or smoke and I'm a virgin, which is
true.
I
know you're working about a sequel, could you tell us a little bit about
that Well,
you know, I've done two years of the column since I finished the book,
so in some ways it's almost done, but I'm still not quite sure how the
book is going to go. One of the things is that Bridget goes on a holiday
to Thailand with Shazzer, where she meets this really great guy when all
their luggage and money get stolen. He's really sweet to them, and gives
them money, tickets and a bag to take in. Then of course when Bridget
goes through Customs, the bag is full of cocaine, and she has to go to a
Bangkok jail until Mark Darcy comes to get her out. Did
you steal another plot? I'm
still crafting the plot. But I'm thinking of Persuasion. This
is my one gossipy question, but everyone always wants to know. Are you
currently involved? Well,
again, I have a stock response. The thing that drives Bridget nuts is
people asking, "How's your love life?" |