There’s nothing like shutting yourself away to write for the weekend, to make the mind seek distraction. And there it was. Fifty shades of stupidity. I dithered. I knew it would be bad. The librarian said she had read better Mills & Boons. But I did cart it home to read.
I like Sophie Morgan’s commentary a lot:
‘I like submissive sex but Fifty Shades is not about fun: it’s about abuse. It’s a measured and articulate commentary about being a submissive. And of course there are many other reviews that Mr Google will help you find, many pointing out the abusive nature of this relationship.
For me it’s the whole premise: a 21-year-old virgin? Really? She’s never masturbated? Oh come on. And the consumer goods. Somewhere I read a review that listed the gains from being a submissive:MacBook, Audi, underwear…….A 27 year old billionaire who seems to have an altruistic streak but hardly works, spending most of his time in the office sending silly emails. The email parts of the book are its best I reckon. An early childhood that renders him unable to be touched but open to being a dominant (psych 101)……..
A bunch of idiotic sub (excuse the pun) characters – a 42-year-old mother who sounds 70, and so on. A 21 year old in the 21st century who refers to (insert your own favourite term) ‘down there’. Yeah right. The language this 21-year-old uses. Somewhere between adult formal and teenage jargon with not a “like’ anywhere. Like holy crap. How can that be in this day and age. I’m like “noooo”.
Ugh. And the sex? Oh the sex. Alas I didn’t feel one erotically charged twinge. No titillation.
But then look, I’m giving the book some public attention too. Sigh.
And it has made me keen to reread the Story of O which I read over 20 years ago.