Book Review: Fifty Shades of Gray by E L James

Fifty Shades of Grey on Amazon.com is the porn version of Twilight. Both Bella and Anastasia live in Washington, both have quirky mothers who have recently remarried, both have never had a boyfriend before, and both are attracted to overprotective controlling men.  Unlike Twilight, the plot is paper thin and nothing without the sex.

EL James Official Site has proven the cliché “sex sells.”  Other than spiking sales of sex toys, James hasn’t accomplished much with this book. The text is littered with clichés, cluttered with repetitive phrases, and stuffed with language expected from a seventh grader.  When reading, please count how many times Mr. Christian Grey runs his long fingers through his hair or has his pants hanging on his hips. A writer can be repetitive, just not so obvious. Could his fingers be slender, lengthy, lithe, meandering?  Could his hips peak over the waist of his pants or could we see that smooth rivulet of skin between a man’s hip bone and navel that dives under a waistband?  The English language overflows with thousands of words to describe the minutest of details, why should a writer limit herself to the same ones so often through a brief story.

Beyond the weak writing is the demeaning and dangerous message that a woman can change an abusive, controlling man.  The type of man that James describes does not change in reality. There is no external love great enough to morph a man who likes submissive women into one who treats them as equals and with respect.

It’s a perilous myth James is selling. I’ve heard the arguments from romantics obsessed with how love changed Mr. Grey. Yes, I know they were consenting adults. She consented to being spanked for punishment. I know the book is fiction. Christian and Anastasia are made up characters in a story. Yet, every book sends a message, fiction or nonfiction. Every book has a philosophy at its core.  Showing dominance over someone is not love.

Strip out the beatings and Mr. Grey’s controlling nature and you’re left with pages ripe with erotic scenes. Scenes that are oh so enjoyable. James knows her sex and she directs an appealing read when she describes Mr. Grey’s boudoir talents. 

My male neighbor read the book as well and was not as blown away by the sex-scriptions as I was. He commented that every guy as at one time has read similar content in Penthouse or Playboy. Apparently, women’s magazine editors have been holding out on the female population.