OPINION: 50 Shades Of Grey Isn’t A Patch Sven Adult Books
By Grace Cook on July 31, 2012 in Society
Fifty Shades Of Grey makes me cringe. Under normal circumstances, this could be because in reality I am a massive prude (a flash of ankle is enough flesh to show, I’m positively archaic), but also, it’s mainly due to the fact that mummy porn has taken over the entire female population, and suddenly it’s apparently okay to read about raging orgasms and BDSM in public. Well actually, it’s not. What would all the women think if men decided to read Razzle or Escort or any of those other embarrassing top shelf finds in Starbucks on Northumberland Street?
Everywhere I turn, women are clutching a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. They’re on the metro on my way to work, they’re in my favourite coffee shops, at the bus stop outside of Central Station, basically everywhere, but I doubt that it would be so popular if it was only available in Sven Adult Books rather than Sainsbury’s. Since when was cliterature in fashion? Not since the instalments of Harry Potter has there been such a demand for a novel, if indeed you could call it that.
Women who don’t normally read are reading it, my own mother included, whose literary catalogue mainly consists of weekly copies of Inside Soap and Heat magazine. Maybe I’m being snobbish, being a literature graduate and all, but the fact that my mother is reading it doesn’t advertise it as great prose to me, and actually, if you remove the sex from the plot, nothing actually happens other than a botched interview. No-one’s fooling me.
The lack of plot isn’t helped by the fact that the protagonist has no redeemable features, what with her stupidity and apparent lack of personality, and her love interest is so ‘perfect’ that it’s ridiculous. Of course he’s gorgeous, with a chiselled jaw-line and massive penis, masses of ‘sex hair’ and an even bigger wallet. Of course he’s a charity do-gooder, earning an average of $100,000 an hour, which, if I calculate correctly, works out as 876 million pounds a year. That happens to be more than what Daniel Radcliffe was paid for the entire Harry Potter series, more than the Queen is paid, and more than Steven Spielberg and Oprah’s annual earnings put together. Yeah right.
However, the thing that offends me the most about Fifty Shades is that it’s a badly written portrayal of what women apparently want. Well, I might be a bit of a prude and I might be a touch neurotic when it comes to tidiness, but believe it or not, a man who neatly folds his clothes before bounding into bed with me does not actually feature at all on any fantasy list of mine, or in fact any other woman I know. Really EL James, is that actually what women want? Do they also want to sign non-disclosure agreements, forbidding them from discussing sexual activities with men? How romantic. The language is cringingly clichéd and so awfully strung together that it’s quite embarrassing. Sex should quite frankly never be described as “chocolate hot fudge brownie sex with a cherry on top”, just as I doubt any woman’s “inner goddess” has “jumped up and down with cheer-leader pom-poms shouting yes”. Cringe.
Call me crazy, but if I had a choice of being tucked up in bed reading about Christian Grey’s sex life or actually having one myself, sorry ladies, but I know which I would rather have. Even if you’d really just prefer to read about it, there are countless better places to get your fix, starting with Sven on Scotswood Road.
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