I have to say, maybe I was a little judgmental. I balked when I heard we were reading Fifty Shades of Grey for book club and decreed it to be trash before I even read it. And I’m not saying it isn’t trash. But I liked it way more than I thought I would. (Though I maintain it is hardly a book club book.)
To be clear, the writing is terrible. The author, E L James, has her favorite words and phrases and uses them constantly. There is a lot of lip biting, a fair amount of “holy shits,” his breath “hitches,” her breath “hitches,” and everyone is beguiling. I also could have completely done without main character Anastasia talking to her subconscious and inner goddess all the time.
And yes, there is a lot of sex. Sex that made me blush. Sex that I didn’t really want to imagine moms across Long Island reading about.
However, there was a plot of some sort beyond all the sex. By the end of the book, I was even a little invested in the outcome. Which is why I was disappointed when the book ended the way it ended. I wantto know what will happen with Ana and Christian. Still, I don’t want to know badly enough that I will read the next two books in the trilogy. There are just so many other things I’d much rather read. But I do want to know badly enough to have Maggie explain two books worth of plot to me. It’s a compromise I think.
Having never read any other erotica, I can’t really compare, but I’m not sure what would make this one stand out so much that people all over the country are reading it. Nevertheless, I have to say I was surprised by how entertaining and readable Fifty Shades of Grey is. Trashy, poorly written entertainment, but entertainment nonetheless. I suppose I shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover… or its kinky Twilight fan fiction origins.