"FIFTY SHADES OF GREY” BY E.L. JAMES: THINGS THAT MAKE YOU GO “OOOHHH!” OR “EEEWWW!”

RATING GUIDE:

 

5 – A keeper!   

4 – Very good

3 –  Passable

2 –  I’d rather read a telephone book

1 – An absolute bomb.  Read at your own risk!

Fifty Shades Of Grey is the first book in E.L. James’ trilogy.  It is the story of Anastacia Steele, a shy and insecure virgin whose idea of passing time is reading the classics … that is, until she meets Christian Gray.  Christian is gorgeous, mysterious and unbelievably rich, and it is through him that Anastacia discovers the pleasures and pitfalls of falling in love with the Perfect Man (or so it seems).

Although Anastacia believes she’s a mousy girl not worth any man’s time, Christian finds her irresistible and begins showering her with attention, not to mention very expensive material gifts.  It is Christian who introduces Anastacia to worldly pleasures, and that includes a sextravaganza of epic proportions, that awakens Anastacia’s “inner goddess” and almost literally transforms her from being a naïve virgin into a walking orgasm, coming and coming AND coming, page after page after page. 

But Anastacia’s fairy tale romance isn’t exactly what it’s cracked up to be.  By his own admission, Christian doesn’t do love.  “I don’t make love.  I fuck … hard,” he says, and he confesses to being “fifty shades fucked up”.  But Anastacia’s romantic ideals (and her multiple orgasms) blind her to the reality of Christian’s admissions, and she allows herself to be slowly sucked in into Christian’s deep, dark world of dominance and submission.  At one point, however, Anastacia realizes that Christian’s pain is more than what she is capable of understanding and handling, and has to decide which is more important:  To stay with the man she loves and lose herself, or save whatever is left of herself and lose the most important man in her life.

Originally written as Twilight fan fiction, the Fifty Shades trilogy has become a hugely profitable best-seller, thanks or no thanks to the controversy it has generated.  It has been called many things, from being a book that has reawakened sexual interest in women, to Mommy Porn (two words I never imagined would ever be combined), to a book that has set back women’s rights by many decades.  It’s either a fantastic read, or a complete waste of time.  So, which is it?

This isn’t the first time that a female author has written a best-selling, highly controversial and highly sexual book.  Think Grace Metalious’ Peyton Place in the fifties, Jacqueline Susann’s The Valley Of The Dolls in the sixties, or Erica Jong’s The Fear Of Flying in the seventies. 

No doubt about it, Fifty Shades Of Grey is a best-seller.  But I wouldn’t call it a literary masterpiece.  Whatever popularity Fifty Shades Of Grey has managed to reap, in my humble opinion, is most likely the result of word-of-mouth and social media coupled with curiosity.  After all, how many books has an average reader read that actually explores the dynamics of a dominant-submissive relationship?  Call it BDSM 101, if you will.  But does Fifty Shades Of Grey actually offer anything more than that?

If you are the type of reader who loves reading about sexcapades, then this is the book for you.  Like I said, it is a sextravaganza of epic proportions.  Once Anastacia loses her virginity to Christian, it’s sex, sex, sex, page after page after page.  On the bed, in a bathtub, over the bathroom sink, lying down, standing up, bending over, with accessories ranging from silk ties to plastic cords … And then there is what Anastacia calls “the Red Room of Pain,” one of the rooms in Christian’s luxurious abode, which is really like a torture dungeon, only clean with a fresh, citrusy scent, where Christian gets Anastacia to try all sorts of interesting sex toys ranging from metallic balls to whips. 

One particularly controversial, memorable or vomit-producing sex scene (it depends on how conservative or squeamish you are) has Christian Grey giving a taste of Anastacia’s own virgin blood, courtesy of his fingers.  How the “metallic tang” of blood could be erotic to a virgin is beyond me.  It also didn’t help my imagination and taste buds that I read this part of the book after I learned about this maid who’d been caught adding her own menstrual blood to her boss’ coffee.  Eeewww.  Then again, Anastacia also likes the taste of Christian’s teeth (yes, folks, she uses the guy’s toothbrush on her own teeth).  So, her tastes are pretty … exotic, to say the least. 

Another scene has Christian replicating a magician’s move before he has sex with Anastacia.  Only in this case, he didn’t produce a rabbit out of a hat.  Instead, he yanked a tampon straight right out of Anastacia’s nether parts.  To use Anastacia’s favorite phrase, “Holy crap!” 

If those are the types of things make you go “Ooohhh,” or aren’t particularly squeamish or conservative, then this is the book for you.  Personally, this book just didn’t turn me on.  Reading about sexual intercourse written in a flat, emotionless, clinical fashion page after page after page just doesn’t awaken my “inner goddess” (another of Anastacia’s favorite phrases), even if Christian Grey is supposedly the kind of guy with the looks, the sexual know-how and the pecker to do it. 

I found it difficult to empathize with the characters, because there were just too many things that tripped me up.  My logic kept getting in the way, for one.  In E.L. James’ head, her characters are supposedly American.  Yet, they sound so British, the way they talk.  Then again, E.L. James is British, so that probably explains why the characters sound more British than American.

Second, it is quite difficult to imagine the characters as believable.  As a woman, I can relate to Anastacia’s feelings of insecurity about her desirability as a woman.  After all, is there really a woman who hasn’t felt that way at one point?  I’ll even go along with the author’s stretching of reality, when she says that Anastacia is a young, American virgin who has only been kissed twice and has never even masturbated in her entire life, even though I can’t help but ask myself, “Is there still an innocent teen out there these days?” 

E.L. James’ characters are also quite inconsistent.  Anastacia is supposed to be a young college student.  While she does talk like a teenager from time to time, she sounds more like a young kid trapped in the eighties than someone who lives in the 21^st century.  Also, her narrative sounds like she’s actually a British woman in her thirties or forties.  It gets much worse when Christian finally devirginizes her, for that’s the time she begins peppering her statements with “fuck,” her new favorite activity.  Pretty distracting, when her favorite statement used to be “Holy crap!” And note how her favorite cuss words get more colorful, the hornier she gets.  There’s “Holy crap,” “Holy shit,” and finally, “Holy fuck!” It can get pretty annoying and laughable, just like Christian’s Pavlovian response (the urge to bang Anastacia) every time Anastacia bites her lip.

The same thing can also be said of Christian.  While it is true that every woman has an Ideal Man in mind, E.L. James’ Christian almost seems like a character straight out of a marketing plan, fashioned to satisfy every kind of female reader.  Christian isn’t only gorgeous, he’s also filthy rich, successful, an achiever, supposedly witty and intelligent (after all, how could he be a multi-billionaire at the ripe old age of twenty-seven?), artistic, has his own plane and even flies it himself, is impeccably dressed, plays classical piano, writes witty, flirtatious (though pretty juvenile) e-mail, lavishes women with expensive gifts that have been carefully thought of, and knows how to make women come over and over AND over.  Why, you almost forget that this guy is also a stalker and someone who wants to turn you into his personal thing to control and play with.

Women almost always want to save a handsome, troubled man from his deep, dark past, and I have to admit that I did find myself feeling some sort of sympathy for Christian once I learned about his troubled childhood.  However, he’s just too much of a stereotypical ideal man for my taste.  Too alien.  If I want to get turned on by an alien, I’d rather ogle a superhero.  Also, some of the supposedly-sexy visual descriptions are so over-the-top, there’s no way to treat it seriously.  For instance, Anastacia drops in on Christian after a fantastic sex session.  She finds him pounding away a classical piece on his piano, nude (turns out later on he was wearing his pajama bottoms), with “just fucked-up” hair.  For some reason, I thought about Cameron Diaz’ ejaculate-spiked hair in Something About Mary as the peg for “fucked-up” hair and I couldn’t stop laughing.  There’s a problem when the writes a serious after-sex scene, and the reader ends up laughing her ass off …

However, as weak and flawed as it is, Fifty Shades Of Grey still does have some good points.  As unromantic as it is, at least it pushes the concept of safe sex.  And the author does touch on the universal experience of falling in love with love and falling for the Bad Boy.  We’ve all known women --- supposedly smart women --- who tossed common sense out of the window because they fell in love with who they thought was Mr. Perfect.  In a way, it is a story of a young woman’s First Love with the seemingly perfect, yet forever unattainable wounded prince.

More importantly, the book provides some sort of warning about how easy it is for women to get trapped in abusive relationships.  How women, blinded by their own concept of love and romance, choose men who aren’t exactly good for them and end up being victims of abuse by their own choosing. 

Overall, while Fifty Shades Of Grey isn’t exactly a keeper, it’s still worth reading, if only to satisfy your curiosity.  You know, the kind of usyosero kind of curiosity you might get when you come across a particularly gruesome scene.  But don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

RATING:  2 1/2