Cute British girl snags nice British boy. Girl's not sure she wants boy; she yearns to be a Big City Journalist. Girl leaves London for New York and eventually loses boy, but covers news stories about baby muggings, amorphous blobs in ponds, the odd decapitation and the scary singles scene. To get the full scoop and a voyeuristically entertaining look at life inside an outrageous American tabloid pick up Bridget Harrison's Tabloid Love: Looking for Mr. Right in All the Wrong Places.

This memoir is a reality chick-lit lark following 29-year-old Harrison (and her ticking biological clock) from the London Times to a four-month exchange assignment (eventually stretching to five years) as a reporter for the New York Post. Our neophyte, but intrepid, newswoman roams the back alleys, boroughs and bars of Gotham in search of stories and her elusive Prince Charming. Wrong turns, insecurity attacks and dating mishaps ensue as she learns the ropes: just because a New York guy has expressed interest in you on one occasion, don't assume he will the next. When the Sunday Post editor hears of her latest lackluster social encounter, he proposes she pen a weekly column about single life in the Big Apple.

This dream assignment becomes a nightmare as Harrison romances one of her editors and writes about it. Though names are changed to protect the innocent, her co-workers aren't fooled, the affair goes blooey and our heroine is in the dumps. Readers won't be, however, because Harrison's zippy storytelling style is endearing, gossipy and wicked, with just the right dashes of ironic self-deprecation and poignant longing. This book is pure if sometimes improbable fun as she romps through London, Manhattan, the Hamptons and back. On the plane en route to a friend's nuptials, Harrison is temporarily blue, but soon bucks up: I was going to be the single girl in a sexy red dress . . . fresh from New York at my best friend's wedding. What could be more exciting than that? The sequel, perhaps! Alison Hood is a writer in San Rafael, California.

comments powered by Disqus