Introducing… “50 Shades Of Grey”; the erotic trilogy the everyone’s talking about. It is, depending on your intellect, the atrociously written story of a submissive-dominant relationship between a literature student and a business executive. It started as fan fiction and has since sold in the millions. If you care to vomit, CLICK HERE for an excerpt.
And the rant…
Why do people subject themselves to “clunky prose” and “exceedingly awful descriptions” in the name of pleasure? Sad. Very sad.
If literature is to be used as a dildo, or whatever, why not read something that actually qualifies as literary? Marquis de Sade for one. Oh wait – because the objective of the masses exploited by E.L. James’ ‘mommy porn’ is not to garner knowledge, revel in insight and engage in artful entertainment; it’s merely to identify with the middle-aged fantasy of a wannabe writer who decided to air her sexual deprivation on society after watching an equally vapid teen fantasy. Twilight. Really? Come… on.
Erotic fiction (although James classifies her sorry excuse for a novel as contemporary romance), BDSM in particular, is a complicated genre that demands thought and research, not to mention narrative skill if it is to be rendered masterfully. E.L James has admitted that she wrote the book on the fly – got her hubby to check the grammar “and he still didn’t get the hint.” Surely there are better ways of dealing with a mid-life crisis; publishing bad fiction not being the optimal solution.
So – ‘don’t read it then’; is what the UnaMind will chant.
Not to worry; there exists neither desire nor intention. Not for the sake of curiosity, boredom or even an educated opinion. This trendy piece of apparent trash will remain shelved on principle – not a principle inspired by prude but a principle birthed in reaction to the type of reader that this book has encouraged; the kind that says this: “I read it through lunch breaks and I’m giggling…I’m like, ‘I can’t believe she just wrote that.” (Laura Vargas, 31, executive assistant), and the fact that the book is just, well, shit.
Better time is spent on authors who make a point; who conjure the human condition with consideration, sensitivity and intelligence. How about a Dickens, a Welsh, an Ishiguro or a Woolf. ‘Who’, says the UnaMind.
The unfortunate reality is: porn sells, so does junk. The human race really is a dismal class of being.
Hollywoodlife.com – E.L. James Admits: ‘Fifty Shades Of Grey’ Didn’t Spice Up My Own Sex Life
Hollywoodreporter.com – ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ Author E L James Embarks on U.S. Book Tour