Book One: Fifty Shades of Crap

Book Two: Fifty Shades Crappier

Book Three: Fifty Shades *facepalm*

So, as usual with bandwagons, I’m a little late jumping onto this one, but I find myself almost incoherent with disbelief at the sheer amount of women who are raving about this trilogy.

(Note: if you haven’t read them, but intend to, don’t bother this will contain some spoilers.)

I can guarantee that on every flight I work on, there are at least two women passengers with one of the books to read and quite a few more with it on their Kindle’s (they’re the ones who don’t want to be seen reading it – but as I walk up and down the cabin I usually manage to spot a telltale word or two *snort*) while we’re flying. I’ve had numerous discussions on board about the books, with the vast majority of women saying how good they are and how much they’d love to get their hands on the male character, Christian Grey.

Good? I don’t think so.

They want to get their hands on Christian Grey?

*blink*

Can they not see that Christian Grey is a serial control freak with stalker tendencies?

Can they not see that Christian Grey is one seriously fucked up individual who needs proper psychological evaluation and help? What woman in her right mind would want to be shagged by a man who has admitted that he chooses, and has had sex with, his submissives because they look like his dead crack whore mother?

Oedipus anyone?

The female character, Ana Steele, takes exception to Grey’s past Dominant, an older lady who she labels Mrs Robinson and considers her to be Grey’s child abuser (he was fifteen at the time), yet she is able to overlook the fact that she, Ana, also bears resemblance to Grey’s mother.

Ewwww.

I suspect that the reason many women love these books is because of all the sex (obviously something missing from their lives), and there is A LOT of sex (in book two, I convinced myself that Grey must have been on intravenous Viagra he was performing so often and Ana must have a Teflon-lined vagina). In fact there’s so much sex, it got boring…

Billiard table? Sex on it.

Boat? Sex on it.

Elevator? Sex in it.

Sex using implements? Yup.

Bathroom? More sex.

Office desk? Oh look, more sex.

Joined the mile high club? You betcha.

Yada, yada, yada.

While reading, I also became aware (and irritated) quite quickly that one of Ana’s favoured sayings was, ‘Oh my’. There were so many of them that after a while I found myself wanting to shove her oh my’s right up her inner goddess (who also irritated me).

There were a couple of places where the threat of a half decent storyline seemed to be starting – at one point Grey disappears, and I had high hopes of a meaty plot developing, but a couple of pages later, he walks back into his apartment after a few hours, having heroically managing to land his sabotaged, engine on fire, helicopter and then walking and hitching a lift back to civilisation. Like you do.

Then they had sex.

Again.

Yawn.

Ana and Christian get married and by the end of the third book have a child with another on the way. The last book ends with Christian Grey still being a control freak, but, it’s a miracle! he is mended. It literally finishes with them both gazing at the sunset from their house (and me making pukey, gagging noises).

There is no disputing the author has made a shitload of money from these books that started life as Twilight fan fiction (I’d like to point out that I parted with no money to read these – I ‘acquired’ them (ask me no questions, I’ll tell you no lies)) and good luck to her, but in my view the trilogy is a Mills and Boon romance with added flogging, spanking and handcuffs. You just don’t get those in Mills and Boon.

In my opinion, for what it’s worth, the author has perpetuated women’s fantasies (and I’m not talking about the sex. Did I mention all the sex?) that only the love of a good woman can cure a very damaged man and I just don’t think it works like that.

But what do I know? I do know that in real life I wouldn’t go near a man like that with a ten foot barge pole.

Besides, I probably wouldn’t like what he’d want to do with it.

In case anyone is wondering, given that I’m clearly not the greatest fan of these books, why did I bother to read all three of them, the answer lies with my job.

I have periods where I’m on standby at home (I call it house arrest), and if I’m needed for a flight due to someone calling in sick, or something going wrong somewhere, crewing phone me with a disgustingly cheery, “Sorry to bother you, we need you to operate blah, blah, blah”. However, being called off standby is quite rare, so I literally have time to kill while being paid to do so and seeing as I had the books in my possession, I read them.

Then threw them across the room with a resounding, “GAH!!”