Fifty Shades of *Gag*: A Book Review

(Post copyright 2012, Dawn Weber)
In honor (in horror?) of the fact that the "Fifty Shades of Grey" movie opens today, I'm posting my review of the book, since - as you can probably tell - I won't be seeing it. For those of you who do go, I hope this is the first time in history that the movie is better than the book.

All my friends were doing it.

And if there's one thing I learned in high school, it's that doing what my friends do is stupid dangerous usually pretty fun.

But I really didn't understand the fuss over "Fifty Shades of Grey" by E.L. James, the book that's sent panties flying all across the U.S.A. There are tens of thousands of pages of  "erotica" right out there on the web.

I don't know this personally - it's just what I hear.

Yes, porn: apparently it's why Al Gore invented the internet. Statistics from Wikipedia (so they must be true!) state that every second, more than 28,000 people watch pornography on the computer, and 372 people type the word "adult" into search engines. Daily, about 2.5 billion emails sent or received worldwide contain X-rated material. Approximately 2.3 billion of those emails come to me.

They call the 50 Shades sensation "mommy porn," which seems to soften the smut a bit. For me, the idea of mommy porn isn't new, because like many sneaky, rotten 80s teens, I swiped and read all my mommy's "porn" back in the groovy day. The D.H. Lawrence. . . the Erica Jong . . . the Harold Robbins - I am familiar with the erotica genre, although I don't read these kinds of books much anymore, on account of being very busy working, parenting and perpetually loading the dishwasher.

My friends piqued my interest though, because the 50 Shades opinions ran rampant.

They loved it! They hated it! They loathed it but they purchased the entire trilogy!

• "Personally, I am enjoying them - and so is my husband."
• "They're O.K. - if you like smut."
• "They're awful books. A total waste of time. I read all three of them."

Well! In the interest of, um, journalism and stuff, I decided to do it. You know, read "Fifty Shades of Grey." Purely for research purposes.

No, no. Don't thank me. Here at the Lighten Up! Center for Smutty Research, I'm a giver. I just give and give. So that other women didn't have to, I went ahead and paid ten bucks for the Kindle version of Fifty Shades.

And now? All those bitches owe me. They owe me ten bucks. Each.

I waded through 380 pages of the most ridiculous, awful, typo-ridden text I've ever read. But, like a train wreck, I couldn't look away; I kept reading, because I simply could not believe this book had been published.

The main character, Anastasia Steele (that name! *gag*), is a 21-year-old recent college grad without a computer or email address. This is the first sign that the book is complete bullshit fiction.

She is also a virgin who has never touched herself - second sign that this is complete bullshit fiction.

Within a few weeks of meeting multi-billionaire Christian Grey (more name gag), thanks to his, um, "gifts", she has a laptop, Blackberry and a new car. She also has rapid, intense, multiple and simultaneous orgasms courtesy of Grey - All. The. Time. Aaannnd . . . there's your last sign this book is complete bullshit fiction.

I won't even go into the sick, demeaning, creepy relationship between Christian and Anasatasia. That's enough ranting for a whole 'nother post.

Not only is "50 Shades of Grey" the most badly written book I've ever read, apparently it had no editor. The author uses the same phrases again and again. And then she uses them again.

In fact, these grossly overused words make up most of the book. Here at the Lighten Up! Center for Smutty Research, I have summed up the entire piece of, um, work with them, with the actual Kindle word count of each expression's usage:

"Jeez (75 times). Triple crap (92 times). My inner goddess (57 times) stares into  Christian's gray eyes (31 times) as I clench (35 times) all my muscles down there (7 times) in my sex (15 times). I bite my lip (11 times) and murmur (197 times) his name as I shatter into a delicious, violent, exhausting, intense, all-consuming orgasm (135,587 times)."

*Gag* My inner goddess just barfed.

Yeah, this book sickens me. This book saddens me. Mostly, this book disappoints me.

Fiction is difficult to write. I know it is; I've tried it. And my writing is far from perfect - see phrases "on account of" and "whole 'nother post", above.

But every day, tens of thousands of writers submit work to publishing executives who either completely ignore them, or summarily reject their work after reading two sentences of a painstakingly assembled manuscript package.

Now, to be fair, in interviews E.L. James seems as shocked as anyone at her book's success. She didn't plan to write what turned out to be the fastest-selling paperback in history; the prose was originally written as Twilight internet fan fiction.

Still, this "book" sailed from web to print in the blink of Christian's gray eyes (again - 31 times). Excuse me while I sob quietly in my cubicle. Clearly, I need to write "erotica" instead of humor.

The only good thing about the 50 Shades phenomenon? Another mini sexual revolution. Ladies are reading this pool-side, beach-side, bed-side, and somehow this fad makes it o.k. to read erotica, for women to admit they have a healthy, perfectly natural interest in sex.

But girlfriends, please. If you want to read some smut, some mommy porn, swipe your mommy's porn - the D.H. Lawrence, the Erica Jong, the Harold Robbins. I hear the Anne Rice (pseudonym A.N. Roquelaure) Sleeping Beauty Trilogy is fantastic. I plan to check it out. You know, purely for research purposes.

The bottom line? PLENTY of good erotic fiction - with far better writing - exists, some of it even posted for free right there on Al Gore's internet.

I don't know this personally - it's just what I hear.