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Confessions of a Shopaholic (Movie Tie-in Edition) ペーパーバック – 2009/1/20
英語版
Sophie Kinsella
(著)
Millions of readers have come to adore New York Times best-selling author Sophie Kinsella’s irrepressible heroine. Meet Becky Bloomwood, America’s favorite shopaholic—a young woman with a big heart, big dreams…and just one little weakness.
Becky has a fabulous flat in London's trendiest neighborhood, a troupe of glamorous socialite friends, and a closet brimming with the season's must-haves. The only trouble is that she can't actually afford it—not any of it.
Her job writing at Successful Savings not only bores her to tears, it doesn't pay much at all. And lately Becky's been chased by dismal letters from the bank—letters with large red sums she can't bear to read—and they're getting ever harder to ignore.
She tries cutting back. But none of her efforts succeeds. Becky's only consolation is to buy herself something ... just a little something....
Finally a story arises that Becky actually cares about, and her front-page article catalyzes a chain of events that will transform her life—and the lives of those around her—forever.
Sophie Kinsella has brilliantly tapped into our collective consumer conscience to deliver a novel of our times—and a heroine who grows stronger every time she weakens. Becky's hilarious schemes to pay back her debts are as endearing as they are desperate. Her "confessions" are the perfect pick-me-up when life is hanging in the (bank) balance.
Becky has a fabulous flat in London's trendiest neighborhood, a troupe of glamorous socialite friends, and a closet brimming with the season's must-haves. The only trouble is that she can't actually afford it—not any of it.
Her job writing at Successful Savings not only bores her to tears, it doesn't pay much at all. And lately Becky's been chased by dismal letters from the bank—letters with large red sums she can't bear to read—and they're getting ever harder to ignore.
She tries cutting back. But none of her efforts succeeds. Becky's only consolation is to buy herself something ... just a little something....
Finally a story arises that Becky actually cares about, and her front-page article catalyzes a chain of events that will transform her life—and the lives of those around her—forever.
Sophie Kinsella has brilliantly tapped into our collective consumer conscience to deliver a novel of our times—and a heroine who grows stronger every time she weakens. Becky's hilarious schemes to pay back her debts are as endearing as they are desperate. Her "confessions" are the perfect pick-me-up when life is hanging in the (bank) balance.
- 本の長さ384ページ
- 言語英語
- 出版社Dell
- 発売日2009/1/20
- 寸法11.43 x 2.54 x 17.78 cm
- ISBN-100440244870
- ISBN-13978-0440244875
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"Too good to pass up."—USA Today
抜粋
Chapter One
Ok. don't panic. Don't panic. It's only a VISA bill. It's a piece of paper; a few numbers. I mean, just how scary can a few numbers be?
I stare out of the office window at a bus driving down Oxford Street, willing myself to open the white envelope sitting on my cluttered desk. It's only a piece of paper, I tell myself for the thousandth time. And I'm not stupid, am I? I know exactly how much this VISA bill will be.
Sort of. Roughly.
It'll be about ... £200. Three hundred, maybe. Yes, maybe £300. Three-fifty, max.
I casually close my eyes and start to tot up. There was that suit in Jigsaw. And there was dinner with Suze at Quaglinos. And there was that gorgeous red and yellow rug. The rug was £200, come to think of it. But it was definitely worth every penny — everyone's admired it. Or, at least, Suze has.
And the Jigsaw suit was on sale — 30 percent off. So that was actually saving money.
I open my eyes and reach for the bill. As my fingers hit the paper I remember new contact lenses. Ninety-five pounds. Quite a lot. But, I mean, I had to get those, didn't I? What am I supposed to do, walk around in a blur?
And I had to buy some new solutions and a cute case and some hypoallergenic eyeliner. So that takes it up to ... £400?
At the desk next to mine, Clare Edwards looks up from her post. She's sorting all her letters into neat piles, just like she does every morning. She puts rubber bands round them and puts labels on them saying things like "Answer immediately" and "Not urgent but respond." I loathe Clare Edwards.
"OK, Becky?" she says.
"Fine," I say lightly. "Just reading a letter."
I reach gaily into the envelope, but my fingers don't quite pull out the bill. They remain clutched around it while my mind is seized — as it is every month — by my secret dream.
Do you want to know about my secret dream? It's based on a story I once read in The Daily World about a mix-up at a bank. I loved this story so much, I cut it out and stuck it onto my wardrobe door. Two credit card bills were sent to the wrong people, and — get this — each person paid the wrong bill without realizing. They paid off each other's bills without even checking them.
And ever since I read that story, my secret fantasy has been that the same thing will happen to me. I mean, I know it sounds unlikely — but if it happened once, it can happen again, can't it? Some dotty old woman in Cornwall will be sent my humongous bill and will pay it without even looking at it. And I'll be sent her bill for three tins of cat food at fifty-nine pence each. Which, naturally, I'll pay without question. Fair's fair, after all.
A smile is plastered over my face as I gaze out of the window. I'm convinced that this month it'll happen — my secret dream is about to come true. But when I eventually pull the bill out of the envelope — goaded by Clare's curious gaze — my smile falters, then disappears. Something hot is blocking my throat. I think it could be panic.
The page is black with type. A series of familiar names rushes past my eyes like a mini shopping mall. I try to take them in, but they're moving too fast. Thorntons, I manage to glimpse. Thorntons Chocolates? What was I doing in Thorntons Chocolates? I'm supposed to be on a diet. This bill can't be right. This can't be me. I can't possibly have spent all this money.
Don't panic! I yell internally. The key is not to panic. Just read each entry slowly, one by one. I take a deep breath and force myself to focus calmly, starting at the top.
WHSmith (well, that's OK. Everyone needs stationery.)
Boots (everyone needs shampoo)
Specsavers (essential)
Oddbins (bottle of wine — essential)
Our Price (Our Price? Oh yes. The new Charlatans album. Well, I had to have that, didn't I?)
Bella Pasta (supper with Caitlin)
Oddbins (bottle of wine — essential)
Esso (petrol doesn't count)
Quaglinos (expensive — but it was a one-off)
Pret à Manger (that time I ran out of cash)
Oddbins (bottle of wine — essential)
Rugs to Riches (what? Oh yes. Stupid rug.)
La Senza (sexy underwear for date with James)
Agent Provocateur (even sexier underwear for date with James. Like I needed it.)
Body Shop (that skin brusher thing which I must use)
Next (fairly boring white shirt — but it was in the sale)
Millets...
I stop in my tracks. Millets? I never go into Millets. What would I be doing in Millets? I stare at the statement in puzzlement, wrinkling my brow and trying to think — and then suddenly, the truth dawns on me. It's obvious. Someone else has been using my card.
Oh my God. I, Rebecca Bloomwood, have been the victim of a crime.
Now it all makes sense. Some criminal's pinched my credit card and forged my signature. Who knows where else they've used it? No wonder my statement's so black with figures! Someone's gone on a spending spree round London with my card — and they thought they would just get away with it.
But how? I scrabble in my bag for my purse, open it — and there's my VISA card, staring up at me. I take it out and run my fingers over the glossy surface. Someone must have pinched it from my purse, used it — and then put it back. It must be someone I know. Oh my God. Who?
I look suspiciously round the office. Whoever it is, isn't very bright. Using my card at Millets! It's almost laughable. As if I'd ever shop there.
"I've never even been into Millets!" I say aloud.
"Yes you have," says Clare.
"What?" I turn to her. "No I haven't."
"You bought Michael's leaving present from Millets, didn't you?"
I feel my smile disappear. Oh, bugger. Of course. The blue anorak for Michael. The blue sodding anorak from Millets.
When Michael, our deputy editor, left three weeks ago, I volunteered to buy his present. I took the brown envelope full of coins and notes into the shop and picked out an anorak (take it from me, he's that kind of guy). And at the last minute, now I remember, I decided to pay on credit and keep all that handy cash for myself.
I can vividly remember fishing out the four £5 notes and carefully putting them in my wallet, sorting out the pound coins and putting them in my coin compartment, and pouring the rest of the change into the bottom of my bag. Oh good, I remember thinking. I won't have to go to the cash machine. I'd thought that sixty quid would last me for weeks.
So what happened to it? I can't have just spent sixty quid without realizing it, can I?
"Why are you asking, anyway?" says Clare, and she leans forward. I can see her beady little X-ray eyes gleaming behind her specs. She knows I'm looking at my VISA bill. "No reason," I say, briskly turning to the second page of my statement.
But I've been put off my stride. Instead of doing what I normally do — look at the minimum payment required and ignore the total completely — I find myself staring straight at the bottom figure.
Nine hundred and forty-nine pounds, sixty-three pence. In clear black and white.
For thirty seconds I am completely motionless. Then, without changing expression, I stuff the bill back into the envelope. I honestly feel as though this piece of paper has nothing to do with me. Perhaps, if I carelessly let it drop down on the floor behind my computer, it will disappear. The cleaners will sweep it up and I can claim I never got it. They can't charge me for a bill I never received, can they?
I'm already composing a letter in my head. "Dear Managing Director of VISA. Your letter has confused me. What bill are you talking about, precisely? I never received any bill from your company. I did not care for your tone and should warn you, I am writing to Anne Robinson of Watchdog."
Or I could always move abroad.
"Becky?" My head jerks up and I see Clare holding this month's news list. "Have you finished the piece on Lloyds?"
"Nearly," I lie. As she's watching me, I feel forced to summon it up on my computer screen, just to show I'm willing.
"This high-yield, 60-day access account offers tiered rates of interest on investments of over £2,000," I type onto the screen, copying directly from a press release in front of me. "Long-term savers may also be interested in a new stepped-rate bond which requires a minimum of £5,000."
I type a full stop, take a sip of coffee, and turn to the second page of the press release.
This is what I do, by the way. I'm a journalist on a financial magazine. I'm paid to tell other people how to organize their money.
Of course, being a financial journalist is not the career I always wanted. No one who writes about personal finance ever meant to do it. People tell you they "fell into" personal finance. They're lying. What they mean is they couldn't get a job writing about anything more interesting. They mean they applied for jobs at The Times and The Express and Marie-Claire and Vogue and GQ, and all they got back was "Piss off."
So they started applying to Metalwork Monthly and Cheesemakers Gazette and What Investment Plan? And they were taken on as the crappiest editorial assistant possible on no money whatsoever and were grateful. And they've stayed on writing about metal, or cheese, or savings, ever since — because that's all they know. I myself started on the catchily titled Personal Investment Periodical. I learned how to copy out a press release and nod at press conferences and ask questions that sounded as though I knew what I was talking about. After a year and a half — believe it or not — I was head-hunted to Successful Saving.
Of course, I still know nothing about finance. People at the bus stop know more about finance than me. Schoolchildren know more than me. I've been doing this job for three years now, and I'm still expecting someone to catch me out.
Ok. don't panic. Don't panic. It's only a VISA bill. It's a piece of paper; a few numbers. I mean, just how scary can a few numbers be?
I stare out of the office window at a bus driving down Oxford Street, willing myself to open the white envelope sitting on my cluttered desk. It's only a piece of paper, I tell myself for the thousandth time. And I'm not stupid, am I? I know exactly how much this VISA bill will be.
Sort of. Roughly.
It'll be about ... £200. Three hundred, maybe. Yes, maybe £300. Three-fifty, max.
I casually close my eyes and start to tot up. There was that suit in Jigsaw. And there was dinner with Suze at Quaglinos. And there was that gorgeous red and yellow rug. The rug was £200, come to think of it. But it was definitely worth every penny — everyone's admired it. Or, at least, Suze has.
And the Jigsaw suit was on sale — 30 percent off. So that was actually saving money.
I open my eyes and reach for the bill. As my fingers hit the paper I remember new contact lenses. Ninety-five pounds. Quite a lot. But, I mean, I had to get those, didn't I? What am I supposed to do, walk around in a blur?
And I had to buy some new solutions and a cute case and some hypoallergenic eyeliner. So that takes it up to ... £400?
At the desk next to mine, Clare Edwards looks up from her post. She's sorting all her letters into neat piles, just like she does every morning. She puts rubber bands round them and puts labels on them saying things like "Answer immediately" and "Not urgent but respond." I loathe Clare Edwards.
"OK, Becky?" she says.
"Fine," I say lightly. "Just reading a letter."
I reach gaily into the envelope, but my fingers don't quite pull out the bill. They remain clutched around it while my mind is seized — as it is every month — by my secret dream.
Do you want to know about my secret dream? It's based on a story I once read in The Daily World about a mix-up at a bank. I loved this story so much, I cut it out and stuck it onto my wardrobe door. Two credit card bills were sent to the wrong people, and — get this — each person paid the wrong bill without realizing. They paid off each other's bills without even checking them.
And ever since I read that story, my secret fantasy has been that the same thing will happen to me. I mean, I know it sounds unlikely — but if it happened once, it can happen again, can't it? Some dotty old woman in Cornwall will be sent my humongous bill and will pay it without even looking at it. And I'll be sent her bill for three tins of cat food at fifty-nine pence each. Which, naturally, I'll pay without question. Fair's fair, after all.
A smile is plastered over my face as I gaze out of the window. I'm convinced that this month it'll happen — my secret dream is about to come true. But when I eventually pull the bill out of the envelope — goaded by Clare's curious gaze — my smile falters, then disappears. Something hot is blocking my throat. I think it could be panic.
The page is black with type. A series of familiar names rushes past my eyes like a mini shopping mall. I try to take them in, but they're moving too fast. Thorntons, I manage to glimpse. Thorntons Chocolates? What was I doing in Thorntons Chocolates? I'm supposed to be on a diet. This bill can't be right. This can't be me. I can't possibly have spent all this money.
Don't panic! I yell internally. The key is not to panic. Just read each entry slowly, one by one. I take a deep breath and force myself to focus calmly, starting at the top.
WHSmith (well, that's OK. Everyone needs stationery.)
Boots (everyone needs shampoo)
Specsavers (essential)
Oddbins (bottle of wine — essential)
Our Price (Our Price? Oh yes. The new Charlatans album. Well, I had to have that, didn't I?)
Bella Pasta (supper with Caitlin)
Oddbins (bottle of wine — essential)
Esso (petrol doesn't count)
Quaglinos (expensive — but it was a one-off)
Pret à Manger (that time I ran out of cash)
Oddbins (bottle of wine — essential)
Rugs to Riches (what? Oh yes. Stupid rug.)
La Senza (sexy underwear for date with James)
Agent Provocateur (even sexier underwear for date with James. Like I needed it.)
Body Shop (that skin brusher thing which I must use)
Next (fairly boring white shirt — but it was in the sale)
Millets...
I stop in my tracks. Millets? I never go into Millets. What would I be doing in Millets? I stare at the statement in puzzlement, wrinkling my brow and trying to think — and then suddenly, the truth dawns on me. It's obvious. Someone else has been using my card.
Oh my God. I, Rebecca Bloomwood, have been the victim of a crime.
Now it all makes sense. Some criminal's pinched my credit card and forged my signature. Who knows where else they've used it? No wonder my statement's so black with figures! Someone's gone on a spending spree round London with my card — and they thought they would just get away with it.
But how? I scrabble in my bag for my purse, open it — and there's my VISA card, staring up at me. I take it out and run my fingers over the glossy surface. Someone must have pinched it from my purse, used it — and then put it back. It must be someone I know. Oh my God. Who?
I look suspiciously round the office. Whoever it is, isn't very bright. Using my card at Millets! It's almost laughable. As if I'd ever shop there.
"I've never even been into Millets!" I say aloud.
"Yes you have," says Clare.
"What?" I turn to her. "No I haven't."
"You bought Michael's leaving present from Millets, didn't you?"
I feel my smile disappear. Oh, bugger. Of course. The blue anorak for Michael. The blue sodding anorak from Millets.
When Michael, our deputy editor, left three weeks ago, I volunteered to buy his present. I took the brown envelope full of coins and notes into the shop and picked out an anorak (take it from me, he's that kind of guy). And at the last minute, now I remember, I decided to pay on credit and keep all that handy cash for myself.
I can vividly remember fishing out the four £5 notes and carefully putting them in my wallet, sorting out the pound coins and putting them in my coin compartment, and pouring the rest of the change into the bottom of my bag. Oh good, I remember thinking. I won't have to go to the cash machine. I'd thought that sixty quid would last me for weeks.
So what happened to it? I can't have just spent sixty quid without realizing it, can I?
"Why are you asking, anyway?" says Clare, and she leans forward. I can see her beady little X-ray eyes gleaming behind her specs. She knows I'm looking at my VISA bill. "No reason," I say, briskly turning to the second page of my statement.
But I've been put off my stride. Instead of doing what I normally do — look at the minimum payment required and ignore the total completely — I find myself staring straight at the bottom figure.
Nine hundred and forty-nine pounds, sixty-three pence. In clear black and white.
For thirty seconds I am completely motionless. Then, without changing expression, I stuff the bill back into the envelope. I honestly feel as though this piece of paper has nothing to do with me. Perhaps, if I carelessly let it drop down on the floor behind my computer, it will disappear. The cleaners will sweep it up and I can claim I never got it. They can't charge me for a bill I never received, can they?
I'm already composing a letter in my head. "Dear Managing Director of VISA. Your letter has confused me. What bill are you talking about, precisely? I never received any bill from your company. I did not care for your tone and should warn you, I am writing to Anne Robinson of Watchdog."
Or I could always move abroad.
"Becky?" My head jerks up and I see Clare holding this month's news list. "Have you finished the piece on Lloyds?"
"Nearly," I lie. As she's watching me, I feel forced to summon it up on my computer screen, just to show I'm willing.
"This high-yield, 60-day access account offers tiered rates of interest on investments of over £2,000," I type onto the screen, copying directly from a press release in front of me. "Long-term savers may also be interested in a new stepped-rate bond which requires a minimum of £5,000."
I type a full stop, take a sip of coffee, and turn to the second page of the press release.
This is what I do, by the way. I'm a journalist on a financial magazine. I'm paid to tell other people how to organize their money.
Of course, being a financial journalist is not the career I always wanted. No one who writes about personal finance ever meant to do it. People tell you they "fell into" personal finance. They're lying. What they mean is they couldn't get a job writing about anything more interesting. They mean they applied for jobs at The Times and The Express and Marie-Claire and Vogue and GQ, and all they got back was "Piss off."
So they started applying to Metalwork Monthly and Cheesemakers Gazette and What Investment Plan? And they were taken on as the crappiest editorial assistant possible on no money whatsoever and were grateful. And they've stayed on writing about metal, or cheese, or savings, ever since — because that's all they know. I myself started on the catchily titled Personal Investment Periodical. I learned how to copy out a press release and nod at press conferences and ask questions that sounded as though I knew what I was talking about. After a year and a half — believe it or not — I was head-hunted to Successful Saving.
Of course, I still know nothing about finance. People at the bus stop know more about finance than me. Schoolchildren know more than me. I've been doing this job for three years now, and I'm still expecting someone to catch me out.
著者について
Sophie Kinsella is the author of the bestselling Shopaholic series, as well as the novels Can You Keep A Secret?, The Undomestic Goddess, Remember Me?, Twenties Girl, I’ve Got Your Number, and Wedding Night. She lives in England.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
From the Trade Paperback edition.
登録情報
- 出版社 : Dell; Reissue版 (2009/1/20)
- 発売日 : 2009/1/20
- 言語 : 英語
- ペーパーバック : 384ページ
- ISBN-10 : 0440244870
- ISBN-13 : 978-0440244875
- 寸法 : 11.43 x 2.54 x 17.78 cm
- Amazon 売れ筋ランキング: - 409,454位洋書 (洋書の売れ筋ランキングを見る)
- - 1,630位Humorous Fiction
- - 2,949位Contemporary Women Fiction
- - 8,219位Contemporary Romance
- カスタマーレビュー:
著者について
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トップレビュー
上位レビュー、対象国: 日本
レビューのフィルタリング中に問題が発生しました。後でもう一度試してください。
2008年3月11日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
ははは
愉快な作品です
買い物中毒者の心情が良く表現されています
まあ良くもこんなに買えるものですね
感心しました
愉快な作品です
買い物中毒者の心情が良く表現されています
まあ良くもこんなに買えるものですね
感心しました
2005年9月1日に日本でレビュー済み
I bought this book together with `Shopaholic Takes Manhanttan` at the Narita Airport to kill time on the flight. And BOY.. was i very impressed with Ms Kinsella`s debut novel. I believe there`s a little shopaholic in every girl`s heart and i caught myself laughing out loud with Becky`s misadventures in the novel. Although I am definitely not something so extreme like Becky, i could relate to her totally like worrying about a beautiful scarf in the midst of a conference! Ha! At somepoint, Becky could be really stupid & naive in the novel but in the end its her big-heartedness that charms the readers. A job well-done Ms Kinsella!
2018年6月17日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
主人公がまともな思考回路をしていないので、イライラして何度も読むのをやめようかと思いました。主人公は嘘つきで金銭感覚を著しく欠いた人間です。
ただ小説の70%まで読み進めたところようやく改心?の兆しを見せたので大変安心しました。
英語は比較的平易なので初心者にも読みやすいかと思います。
ただ小説の70%まで読み進めたところようやく改心?の兆しを見せたので大変安心しました。
英語は比較的平易なので初心者にも読みやすいかと思います。
2003年8月27日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
はっきり言って、こんなにおもしろいとは思いませんでした。最初にties the knotを読んでレベッカの優柔不断さにいらいらもしましたが(といっても止められませんよ。) こちらは全体的にお話が`明るい 'ので、ホントに楽しかったです。作者は、天才に違いない! きっとあなたの心をギュッとつかんで離しませんよ。 Chapter1から、展開が止まりません!!絶対にトイレを済ませ、お菓子、飲み物も用意してから読むことをお勧めします。ワタクシは、バスを乗り過ごし、車庫に向かう前に降ろしてもらいました・・。レベッカ You're so sweet! 注:お買い物がお好きなあなたに特にオススメ。
2003年4月12日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
イギリス英語となると、何かぱっとした小説が少ない・・・とぼやいていたところに、何気なく注文した1冊。
これは女性なら心動かされる1冊。私はクレジットカードを持たない主義なので、カードの使い過ぎと
いうことはないのですが、でも、このところ電子辞書だの、英英辞典だの・・・もしかしたら買い物依存症?と不安になり始めました。この主人公の無計画な買い物ぶりは母親ゆずり?でも、いい物を見る目というか才能は見習いたいと思います。主人公が何とか堅実生活にチャレンジしてみようと、アドバイザーに従って、出費をリストアップしたり、生活必需品や友達つきあいにお金をけちらない等は実践の価値有りと思います。
イギリス人の日本人観がかいま見えたり、同年代のイギリスOLの生活が身近に感じられます。ところどころフランス語の単語が出てきます。日本人がカタカナ英語を使うように、イギリス人もフランス語を使っているのでしょうか?
これは女性なら心動かされる1冊。私はクレジットカードを持たない主義なので、カードの使い過ぎと
いうことはないのですが、でも、このところ電子辞書だの、英英辞典だの・・・もしかしたら買い物依存症?と不安になり始めました。この主人公の無計画な買い物ぶりは母親ゆずり?でも、いい物を見る目というか才能は見習いたいと思います。主人公が何とか堅実生活にチャレンジしてみようと、アドバイザーに従って、出費をリストアップしたり、生活必需品や友達つきあいにお金をけちらない等は実践の価値有りと思います。
イギリス人の日本人観がかいま見えたり、同年代のイギリスOLの生活が身近に感じられます。ところどころフランス語の単語が出てきます。日本人がカタカナ英語を使うように、イギリス人もフランス語を使っているのでしょうか?
2009年8月29日に日本でレビュー済み
Rebecca Bloomwoodは、ロンドンに友達Suzeとアパートに一緒に住み、経済雑誌の出版社に勤めている20代のどこにでもいる明るくてウキウキした女性。しかし、彼女は、ファッションや雑貨などのブランド物に目のない買い物中毒者で、仕事で立ち寄った街でも、買い物をしようとするものだから、毎日のようにカードの督促状が送りつけられてきます。そこで彼女は、負債を返そうと、様々な妙案で問題解決に乗り出します・・・。
しかし、お金持ちのTarquinには、フラれてしまい、一番憧れているRuke Brantonにもバカにされ、全く自信を失ってしまうのですが、さて、Beckyはどのようにこの窮地を打開するでしょうか?これは、自分で読んで確かめてください。きっと、以外な結末が待っていると思います。
巻頭にあるレビュー集には、「昔でいうI Love Lucyのどんちゃん騒ぎに似た陽気なお話」とあるけど、どちらかというとルーシーの声をやっていたカツオ(?)の出演しているサザエさんの方がイメージしやすいと思います。いたる所にユーモアがあって、さらに、物の考え方っていうか、思考回路が日本人に近いようで、米国人作家より内容や気持ちが理解しやすいみたいです。
また、英語の難易度ですが、John Grishamの後に読んだからかも知れないけど、非常に表現がやさしくてわかりやすい!一語一句、わからない単語がないくらい(おおげさかも)しかも、模範的な表現や文体の英語が多いので、中学生の英語の教科書にしてもよいくらいだと思います。洋書の初心者からベテランまで、誰もが楽しめる秀作でしょう。
しかし、お金持ちのTarquinには、フラれてしまい、一番憧れているRuke Brantonにもバカにされ、全く自信を失ってしまうのですが、さて、Beckyはどのようにこの窮地を打開するでしょうか?これは、自分で読んで確かめてください。きっと、以外な結末が待っていると思います。
巻頭にあるレビュー集には、「昔でいうI Love Lucyのどんちゃん騒ぎに似た陽気なお話」とあるけど、どちらかというとルーシーの声をやっていたカツオ(?)の出演しているサザエさんの方がイメージしやすいと思います。いたる所にユーモアがあって、さらに、物の考え方っていうか、思考回路が日本人に近いようで、米国人作家より内容や気持ちが理解しやすいみたいです。
また、英語の難易度ですが、John Grishamの後に読んだからかも知れないけど、非常に表現がやさしくてわかりやすい!一語一句、わからない単語がないくらい(おおげさかも)しかも、模範的な表現や文体の英語が多いので、中学生の英語の教科書にしてもよいくらいだと思います。洋書の初心者からベテランまで、誰もが楽しめる秀作でしょう。
2004年7月17日に日本でレビュー済み
Amazonで購入
主人公のrebeccaを応援する気持ちと、なんてことするの、おバカさん。と、あきれる気持ちが入り乱れて、楽しみながら一気に読みました。女の子なら絶対に「ある、ある。」とうなずきながら読むことと思います。私の英語力が低い為、たまに解らない単語もありましたが、それにつまずくことも無く、全体の流れを把握することができるし、どんどん先が気になる内容で、自然にページが進みます。 お薦めです。
他の国からのトップレビュー
Chris Bish
5つ星のうち5.0
Great book. Tons of fun!
2024年5月4日にアメリカ合衆国でレビュー済みAmazonで購入
So many laughs. Wild scenes. Dramatic ending with wonderful denouement. What could be better? Maybe another installment next the series.
Eviux
5つ星のうち5.0
Soy fan!
2021年4月1日にメキシコでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
Presté mi libro y nunca regresó así que lo compré ahora en formato Kindle, amo esta serie, odié la película pero qué se le va a hacer.
Florence Millard
5つ星のうち5.0
Funny and Light
2021年2月9日にカナダでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
My favourite book...completely silly but funny and light. Love the movie too.
Giulia Lasorella
5つ星のうち5.0
Bellissimo
2022年11月12日にイタリアでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
Troppo bello. Già letto più volte in italiano, in lingua originale è eccezionale ❣️
Sheetalm8
5つ星のうち5.0
Way too hilarious to control your laugh while reading
2021年2月11日にインドでレビュー済みAmazonで購入
I have been reading the shopaholic series, and this book - The Secret Dreamworld Of A Shopaholic is a perfect reflection of me. The book is full of entertainment and hilarious content. I had so much fun reading this book. After every page I turned, I was laughing so hard. I couldn’t thank enough Sophie Kinsella for this amazing book. The story resembles so much to me as if I was reading the story of my life. The only thing is that I haven’t met my dream partner yet just like Rebecca Bloomwood.
It’s a must-read book if you like a romantic comedy and I bet this book will entertain you from the first page to the last.
It’s a must-read book if you like a romantic comedy and I bet this book will entertain you from the first page to the last.