OMG, I Just Hate it So Much!!!
Ok, so I know I already did my own pseudo review of 50 Shades of Shit, which was mainly 4 words of what I thought of the book, and 4500 words plugging my own book, but I just don’t think I made it clear how much I truly hated that awful fucking novel.
Me and my friend Sassy Filipina* went out for dinner tonight. Being that we are both women in our prime, the subject of 50 Shades of Grey came up. And I knew that Sassy and I were kindred spirits when she announced “the fact that so many people like that shitty book makes me lose faith in humanity.”
She totally hit the nail on the head.
All right, now I think we all know that I really don’t have a problem with BDSM. Ok, so I might be a bit more of a dom than I am a sub, but whatever. I know the genre and I know what is good. “The Story of O” and “Stealing Beauty” are good. If you’re looking for a little romance with your kink, then “Away from Me” by Sophie Oak is fantastic. I actually liked it so much that I linked it. That’s how you know I love a novel.
I’m making this clear because I want everyone to understand that both me, and Sassy, who has a bit of a wild side, were not turned off by the novel for its unusual sexual situations. I frequently find myself in unusual sexual situations and will openly admit that I’ve choked more than one dude in bed. At last count it was 3. Two because it seemed sexy at the time, and the third just to get him to shut the fuck up. Seriously, who calls a chick mama in bed? Gross.
No, the reason I hated this awful novel wasn’t the sex. It was the poor writing, one dimensional characters and plot holes the size of a canyon that pissed me off.
Following the initial review, I forced myself to read every last page of the piece of shit, just to make sure I was being fair. Turns out, I was being generous. Let me give you Essa’s synopsis.
Bella from Twilight is doing a favor for her kooky best friend. She goes to interview Edward, who is a billionaire with no definable career. This Edward is not a vampire, but whatever. Despite the fact that Edward is a hot 28 year old billionaire who gets more ass than a toilet seat, he starts stalking Bella because he’s desperate to make her his new submissive. Oh, have I mentioned that she is a 22 year old college educated virgin with a pet unicorn (ok, so I made the unicorn up, whatever) who has never owned a computer? Bella, who talks like Hanna Montana, but thinks like a 90 year old British lady, regularly has conversations with her “inner goddess” (vomit) and spends the majority of the novel blushing and biting her lip while Edward does things to her “down there” (E.L. James’ words, not mine). Then, they both die in a plane crash.
Ok, so I made the part about the plane crash up. That’s just the way I wished it would happen. In reality, this novel frustrated the fucking shit out of me. Why? Because it really did make me lose faith in women everywhere. It’s not about being submissive. Deep down, most women have a submissive side. It’s the fact that such a poorly written piece of drivel, with plot holes, ridiculous redundancies, stolen characters and unrealistic settings did so fucking well. People really like this shit? Is everyone that stupid? Seriously people. This book is the literary equivalent of “The Emperors New Clothes” and soccer moms everywhere are gobbling it up like it’s 0 calorie chocolate while publishers are laughing their way to the bank.
Seriously, fuck you America. Hemingway is rolling in his goddamn grave.
Romance, even Erotic romance, doesn’t have to be pointless smut. It can have a plot. It can have beautiful descriptions and realistic settings. It can have characters who aren’t caricatures. It’s been done and it will be done again. And the writers who worked so hard on those novels get ignored. That just pisses me off.
I’ve said in the past that I don’t pan indie writers. It’s not fair. I’m an indie writer myself and the publishing world gives us a ration of shit for it. But in this case, I’m not panning an indie writer, because as far as I’m concerned, E.L. James is no writer. She’s a bullshit artist who got lucky.
And she owes me 2.99 and 3 hours of my life back.
