Fifty Shades of Grey, originally a fan fiction of Twilight, is not a good book. It is not well-written, carefully constructed, or deep and transformative. It is merely a book with pages and pages of lurid and turgid prose. It is an embarrassingly overwrought fiction that is neither logical nor creative.
I don’t hate erotica.
It was 9 years ago when I first stumbled upon a copy of Sleeping Beauty by A.N. Roquelaure (aka Anne Rice) at our dilapidated and poorly stocked high school library. I didn’t know what it was when I stuffed it into my backpack, I thought it was just another version of the fairy tale. And it was, but boy did it open me to a whole new world of fiction that was indulgent, opulent, and taboo at best.
Since then, I’ve been hunting bookstores for this genre. I even had erotic fiction as the main subject of my Literature thesis back in college. So, I don’t hate it. In fact, I love it. I enjoy reading it.
But after putting down my copy of Fifty Shades, I facepalmed for the future of erotica.
Here are some reasons you should just skip 50 Shades of Grey:
- Reading Twilight is never a good reason to write a book. “I just ate bacon” would be a better reason. But “I want Edward and Bella to do it BDSM style”? That’s not good.
- The characters are ridiculous. Christian Grey is a 28-year old billionaire (not millionaire, billionaire) who has the skills of a concert level pianist, speaks fluent French, is a terrific pilot, has a perfect body that Olympians would kill for, and is into BDSM. Oh, and he likes to spend lavish amounts of money, attention, and sexual pleasure on a virginal awkward girl who somehow agrees to be his sex toy/girlfriend/secretary.
- The sex scenes are almost comical. For Grey, they’re almost tolerable. For Darker and Freed, they’re downright laughable than erotic. Anastasia Steele can orgasm at the drop of a hat? Seriously. He says her name and she’ll have an orgasm. He touches her cheeks and she orgasms. She’s almost climaxing on every page it’s hilarious.
- The writing is horrible. I can write about 10 different articles why E.L. James’ writing sucks. Like, there’s the part where Anastasia is blushing, chewing her lips, and being “awkward” written in almost every page. If you take that out, the book will probably only have 25 pages. Also, Ana uses the expression “Holy cow!” like 134 times. I mean seriously, who still uses that?
- James clearly doesn’t know what subconscious means. Hint: it’s not an “inner goddess”.
- One book ends but it doesn’t make
- Sense and it just transitions into another book and they all don’t make sense LOL
- Stephenie Meyer refused to read that book. It’s not like she won an award for Snob Author of the Year or something.
- The female protagonist is a virgin. I’m so tired of female protagonists in novels being virgins, awkward, and in a waiting-for-the-right-guy kind of mindset. Why can’t authors write about self-made hardworking females who couldn’t care less about their hymen?
- The inner goddess thing is stupid. #ItsNotAThing
- E.L. James once wrote under the pen name “Snowqueens Icedragon”. Come to think about it, I might actually read a book written by Ms Icedragon.
- Preferring BDSM doesn’t require a fucked-up childhood. You could have enjoyed Scooby Doo and Sundays at Lego Land and still want to be tied up in handcuffs.
- You might like it a little. Or a lot. Which means you’ll want to crawl into a hole and hope everyone forgot you existed. This totally didn’t happen to me 😀
- The world of erotic literature deserves better than this.
- There’s a line in the book that goes “My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils”. If you understood that or found it comedic, give me your address so I can breed a kraken and release it near your city.
So yeah, don’t read 50 Shades of Grey. Don’t waste P499. Do your laundry instead. It’s a better pastime. 😀