The toe-curling sentimentality of Cecilia Ahern's plot, in which a recently bereaved young woman receives love letters from her dead husband, must have made it ideal for adaptation as the Hollywood “chick flick” that it is soon to be. In fact it is not as bad as the scenario suggests — tempering its weepier moments with some larky “girls-night-out” slapstick, and a dash of whimsical Irish humour.

Holly is not yet 30 when her beloved husband Gerry dies from a brain tumour. Two months on, she finally brings herself to open the envelope he has left her, which proves to be full of letters, one of which she must open on the first day of each month over the year that follows. Each contains instructions on how she should get on with life after her bereavement. Disappointingly, there are no radical life-changing ideas put forward — simply a list of banal advice reminiscent of the makeover pages in women's magazines: Holly is told to buy a new dress, get her hair done, go on holiday, and so on. Gerry — obviously not the jealous sort — even suggests that she find a new man.

Predictable as much of this is, it keeps one turning the pages. It may be that the novel's structure — with each letter influencing the next plot twist— is the addictive thing; or even the character of Holly herself, an Irish Bridget Jones, with a trio of binge-drinking friends to match. Whatever the reason, this makes surprisingly good reading.

P.S. I Love You by Cecelia Ahern
Harper, £6.99

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