Monday, July 23, 2012

50 Shades of ... I don't really care

by E.L. James
May 29 - July 16, 2012

Thank God that's over. I am probably the only woman on the planet who didn't read this trilogy in a week, let alone twice in a row. I didn't jump on the Christian Grey train; rather I wanted to shove him in front of one. I suppose I can understand why everyone is so fascinated with the books. I mean, let's face it, I read a lot and I have never read sex scenes quite like these. But after the initial "shock" and once through the first book, it was old news and honestly a little boring. If I hadn't bought the complete trilogy on my Kindle at one time, I highly doubt I would have continued on to book two, and definitely not book three.

I find it unnecessary to do a complete recap, so this post will be strictly opinion with lots of spoilers. I don't suggest reading any further unless you've already finished the books. If you have, I'd love to hear what drew you to them (or not).

I was immediately turned off by the poor prose. By no means am I a literary giant, but I've read enough to know good writing from bad. And even if I can't articulate which it may be, trust me, I just know. Within the first 10% of the book I was already rolling my eyes at the way the author overused "he/she mutters" and 'he/she murmurs." Really, why is this a story of two people with mush mouths who whisper to each other all the time? And if Christian Grey is the strong dominant the author portrays, then I'm quite sure he would never murmur anything. This was my biggest pet peeve. Incidentally, I did a find for "murmur" on my Kindle, and I came up with 764 results. Buy a thesaurus, Ms. James.

The next thing that kept my eyes rolling (and no, I don't want to be "punished" for doing so; that was just absurd) was Ana's constant referral to her inner goddess and her subconscious. It got to the point where I thought she was a schizophrenic with all these personalities living inside of her. When her subconscious started wearing half-moon glasses and reading Charles Dickens, it went completely over the top into utter ridiculousness. In reality, a 21-year old girl could simply not be emotionally mature enough to recognize any of this. Remember what you were interested in at 21 and fresh out of college? Yeah, me too, and it wasn't my freaking subconscious.

Toward the end of the second book, I was just becoming bored by so many things. First, the fact that Ana was so in love with Christian, yet she constantly walked on eggshells around him. She always worried whether or not he was mad at her. So very NOT sexy. Second, his possessiveness. If he murmured one more time, "you're mine" I was going to puke. Flawed or not, get a grip buddy. Third, I honestly failed to see the attraction to a man who takes pleasure in inflicting pain on a woman. In my opinion, he was a half step away from all-out domestic abuse. At one point he even says: "I want to punish you. Really beat the shit out of you." WAKE UP ladies!! THIS IS NOT OK! I would have thrown the book at the wall, but my Kindle didn't deserve to be smashed into a million pieces.

Finally, the little mystery thrown in for good(?) measure. By that point, I didn't care about Jack Whateverhisnameis or why he was out to get the Greys. It seemed an afterthought to add this inane storyline, and I don't think it added any intrigue or compassion at all.

I could probably go on for another 500 words or more, but I think you get my disgust loud and clear. I. Just. Don't. Get. It. But if you loved it, please, oh please, tell me why. Was it the sex? If so, I have to believe there are better-written smut books out there. Was it the love story? Because I don't understand loving a controlling, insecure masochist.

Talk to me.

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