Fifty Shades Fever
Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock these past few months, you’ll be aware that Fifty Shades fever has swept the globe, sending millions of horny housewives into a tizz, with their unwitting hubbies (reportedly) reaping the benefits in the boudoir.
The juggernaut shows no signs of slowing any time soon, with a film on the cards (pity Christian Bale is too old; he IS Christian Grey) and sex shop proprietors doing the happy dance as naughty but nice goodies fly off the shelves (I made that last bit up, but I reckon it’s true).
Now, I’m no literary snob - I devoured the Twilight saga in a matter of sleep-deprived days - but I just don’t get it. I stifled 50 types of yawn as I struggled through this giant snore fest, and the thought of finishing the trilogy sends me looking for the nearest noose. No, not THAT kind of noose! Behave.
In a nutshell, Fifty Shades is a piece of erotic fluff starring hitherto virginal Anastasia Steele (she of the epic and frequent Big O), and the dashing, dangerous billionaire, Christian Grey. Let’s just cut to the chase and say there’s a Red Room of Pain (sexy pain) and Grey wants Miss Steele in it. Dude has ISSues.
But, of course, he’s not ALL bad (poor little poppet had a tough start in life), and Ana is determined to drag him from the dark and out into the light. But can this very unorthodox romance survive Christian’s kinky proclivities?
You get the drift...
Yes it has sex in it. A lot. But it’s still boring. Especially the in-between bits. And irritating. By the third or fourth chapter, I was ready to slap Ana’s oft-mentioned ‘Inner Goddess’ upside the head.
Read it if you must. But, ‘Oh my!’*, what a waste of time.
*Count the number of times Ana says this in the book. I’m guestimating one gazillion.
In the mood for a twisted love triangle? Read Pip's review on The Marriage Plot.