50 Shades of Grey; I haven’t read the whole book; there isn’t enough Pepto Bismol, in the world, to permit my poor tummy to tolerate more than a few pages. This is my first and last blog on the topic. James is, now, a rich woman because there are millions of women out there with no idea of what constitutes acceptable writing and an even more tenuous grip on the concept of sexuality.
To be a fan of this book speaks volumes of the reader, I’m afraid. First and foremost, it illustrates a total lack of appreciation for the written word. The few pages I was able to read, before the retching reflex kicked in, was somewhere between struggling through a high school essay attempt and a submission for the Bulward-Lytton contest. The popularity of the book actually makes me sad; it tells me that there is a huge population of dumbasses out there, disguised and walking among us.
The totally inaccurate and misleading representation of the BDSM lifestyle renders this book as an actual danger to the dimmer lightbulbs out there. This book does not, in any way, shape or form reflect the reality of a BDSM life choice. It is nothing more than a thinly veiled attempt to turn an abusive relationship into something marginally acceptable.
And really? If this book represents some sort of sexual fantasy for the multitude of readers? Then I’m afraid there are far too many people with lousy sexual relationships. Sexual Therapists of the world, unite! Get out there and fight the good fight. You are, desperately, needed.
Good porn can be a welcomed sexual aid; bad porn serves no purpose at all. 50 Shades of Grey is very bad porn. Don’t believe me? Here are a few examples of what lies between the covers of this very sad waste of good paper:
“I had no idea giving pleasure could be such a turn-on, watching him writhe subtly with carnal longing. My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.” (There are no words…)
“His lips parted – he’s waiting, coiled to strike. Desire – acute, liquid and smoldering, combusts deep in my belly.” (No, honey; that would be gas.)
The book is bad. The writing is bad. The message is as screwed up as you can get. The dude is an abusive stalker. He is not a Dom. He’s an asshole. Anastasia is not a sub. Anastasia is a twit.
If you really want to read a book that delves into the very complex world of a TRUE BDSM relationship, I can recommend the following:
1. Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns: The Romance and Sexual Sorcery of Sadomasochism by Philip Miller
2. Different Loving: A Complete Exploration of the World of Sexual Dominance and Submission by Gloria Brame
3. The S&M Feminist: Best of Clarisse Thorn by Clarisse Thorn
This book makes me sad. The number of people who actually liked the book makes me even sadder. That this book was made into a movie, costing millions of dollars, makes me, almost suicidal.