F is for Fifty Shades of F***ery

There have been so many horrible reviews written about the Fifty Shades Trilogy by E. L. James that my mind was made up to not bother reading any of it.  But Book One got downloaded to our shared Kindle (by either one or the other of my daughters, doesn’t matter who)  (and if I did it myself, I don’t remember!) and so there it was, and I thought, what the hell, and started reading.  Finished it and downloaded the second one.  Finished that and downloaded part three.  Seriously, it’s like some kind of strange addiction to the weirdest fairy tale ever written.  Somebody called it “literary crack”.  It’s a modern-day fairy tale fantasy for a day dreaming adolescent, unbelievable in so many ways, and yet I found myself reading away, wanting to believe the unbelievable.  Because it’s just so f***ing unbelieveable I can’t believe it.

Quick character synopsis – Ana Steele, a socially awkward 22-year-old virgin (rolling your eyes already?) who has no idea she’s brilliant, gorgeous and desirable,  meets Christian Grey, a drop dead handsome 27-year-old billionaire control freak who flies a helicopter, owns a jet, lives in a penthouse, employs full-time security staff, has darkly erotic tastes, plays the piano, suffers flashbacks and nightmares from early childhood trauma, was seduced as a teenager by a family friend old enough to be his mother, is heavily into sexual role-playing, has self-loathing issues and been in therapy all his life, and is using his vast wealth to combat world hunger.  Yes. Really.

Even Quicker plot synopsis – They can’t keep their hands off each other or be physically separated without feeling suicidal.  There is a lot of angst.  They work it out.

There is really not much of a plot, very little character development, repetition that will drive you mad, a bit of melodrama here and there, but never any doubt whatsoever that it will all end blissfully and happily like every good romance does.  Oh yeah, and physical intimacy and gratification on every other page. Sometimes every page for pages and pages and pages.  If there were a sexual olympics, Christian and Ana would definitely be contenders.

Who can say why this trilogy is a runaway best seller?  It’s not literary genius by any stretch of the imagination.  There are many more talented writers out there.  I didn’t love it, I didn’t hate it.  But I did read the entire thing.  Just like I read the entire Hunger Games Trilogy.  As for Twilight and Sleeping Beauty – couldn’t make it past book one in either case.

Anyway, now I guess I have a better idea what all the fuss is about.  Much ado about nothing much.  So of course perfectly suited to being turned into a full length movie or two!  My head hurts just thinking about it.  Read it for fun or diversion or to be a critic or to become a six star fan.  Or not at all.  More power to Ms. E.L. James who is laughing all the way to the bank in spite of what we think.  And threatening to write MORE!  I am SO biting my lip (and rolling my eyes) in breathless anticipation.

Much Ado

What is love? ’tis not hereafter;

Present mirth hath present laughter;

What’s to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.

Youth’s a stuff will not endure.

William Shakespeare (Twelfth Night)

I’m cleaning up my “Library”, which is also the spare bedroom, because there’s just way too much random stuff in there that I should be embarrassed for guests to have to endure.  Even the closet is stuffed full of so much junk you wouldn’t want to hang anything up in there and risk having it go missing in the maze.

The way I clean and organize is perhaps not the most efficient or speedy method on earth.  Hardly even got started when I came upon a book with the above quote in it.  It’s one of my favourites.  So I put it on my blog.  And I turned off the light in there because I probably won’t go back and do any more tonight.  You have to be in the mood for this nonsense.  And as fast as the mood hit me, it also deserted me.  What can you do.

There’s already quite a pile of stuff on the bed that needs to come out of that room, which means it has to go somewhere else, in this case downstairs;  perhaps a lot of it should make it’s way out the back door to the garbage bin instead.  That would make for a much shorter trip.  And less arranging at the other end.  It’s well past time to purge the toy room again too and this influx of more things will just increase the complications.

However, this week there’s no garbage pick up.  So that’s a perfectly good enough reason for me to put the whole thing off.  Perhaps indefinitely, since there’s only two days left in December and nobody should be expected to do anything strenuous in the gawdawful month of January.  I do want to rearrange the books, but if I find awesome quotes in all of them, I’ll be at it for a very long time.

Two more days of work and then I can put the Christmas things away for another year.  After the 26th I make myself tolerate them for a few more days, but normally they’ve disappeard well before New Year’s Eve.