50 Shades of Awful
I have read, and now re-read, 50 Shades of Grey, 50 Shades Darker and 50 Shades Freed, the trilogy of garbage written by EL James.
As most everyone has noted and laughed about, the titillating topic of a young woman with her dominant boyfriend/partner has captured the attention of seemingly every middle-aged, white lady across every continent and beyond. At this point, women from other galaxies who have never had anything but hetero, missionary sex with no foreplay have read this book and gotten excited.
But it’s not exciting. The sex is so bad and horrible to read. It’s not sexy AT ALL. In fact, it’s horrible. Furthermore, it’s damaging, as it portrays those who practice BDSM and ascribe to the lifestyle as deranged, abusive, mentally ill and in need of intensive therapy and help. OKAAAAY.
Not only that, it’s written by someone who finds words hard to write. This is one of my favorite passages written, OF ALL TIME.
‘But my hips start to move involuntarily, gyrating to their own rhythm, caught up in his cool, vanilla spell.’
50 Shades of Suck posts quotes from the three books. Head over there and read. You will snort with laughter, but you will also probably die a little inside. Die at the idea that stupid, embarrassing Twilight fanfic can become a cash juggernaut and published material that is so bad, so poorly written and edited at a time when writing is so amazing and easily obtained and well-done, even by amateurs and plebs like us, that you wonder if the world is no longer spinning.
Lastly, it is supremely disturbing that women are tearing through these books, thrilled and seeking a man who is basically an abuser and woman-hater. Not only that, the heroine, if that is what she is, is such a basic bitch, you actually wonder how she exists in the world.
I found myself rooting for Christian Grey, not because I like tall, copper-haired billionaires who stalk women, but because I hoped he would help his love Ana Steele, find some sense. She is a woman who at 22, IN MODERN DAY SEATTLE, doesn’t know how to use a BlackBerry or laptop, has never drank coffee, had sex or apparently done ANYTHING in her life but read dead, British authors.
The plot devices and twists are absurd. Christian Grey’s prior submissive is characterized as suicidal, homicidal, and depressed because she loved Christian and he didn’t love her back. OKAY.
Ana’s boss, who later turns into the most important antagonist/villain in the story, is a sexual predator who harasses all of his assistants and forces them into sexual relationships. OKAY.
Ana Steele is a virgin who, upon having sex with Christian Grey for the first time, has a ‘shattering’ vaginal orgasm and continues to have nothing but orgasms with the man, no matter what he does to her. OKAY.
Christian Grey’s prior dominant and first lover beat him and never touched him, which gave him strength to quit abusing alcohol and drugs and become the richest man in the world and do all the business things because all he needed was focus. OKAY THEN.
All of this is fucking stupid, sure, but the really, REALLY awful thing is that women are reading this and getting turned on. Are women these days so lacking in their hetero relationships that their husbands/partners/boyfriends/part-time boos are so bad at the sex that THIS is exciting for them? I guess the answer is yes and it REALLY bums me the fuck out.
I can get they secretly wish their first time was perfect and magical, instead of with Joe, the high school soccer team midfielder who poked it in for 30 seconds, came and left her wondering why anyone had sex, ever, sure, but at 40? They’re still hoping sex is as mind-blowing and sexy and whatever it is Ana and Christian are doing? You mean you haven’t told the menz to fuck you right? YET?
What in the ever-loving fresh hell? I guess I can buy that it’s all still really awful out there, but it honestly depresses me that THIS is what women are fantasizing and wishing for instead.
Never mind that entire time I read this mess, I, LITERALLY, kept thinking ‘LOLWHITEPEOPLE!’
I mean, the whiteness pervades this book so much, I was practically reading the book in a Reese Witherspoon voice, while drinking a skinny margarita.
This isn’t really a review of the trilogy. It isn’t even a rebuke, I guess. It’s more of a ‘how is the world still this fucking terrible?’ statement, I guess.
50 Shades of Bullshit, subtitled, Everyone is horrible and everything hurts. Also, white people. THE END.