Let’s be clear about one thing. It was a coworker who showed me an article about this book first. I was practically DARED to read this book. It was forced upon me, I say. Forced, like Christian Grey’s broad, tanned, smooth shoulders upon Ana’s full, perky, lascivious …
E.L. James is no Tolstoy (yes, my adjective use above is an open swipe at James’ writing style), but let’s face it, when you are writing Twilight fanfiction and are able to morph it into an erotic trilogy that women everywhere are reading and not talking about, I’m sure she’s laughing all the way to the bank. 50 Shades of Grey is the not-so-complicated tale of the complicated relationship that develops between wealthy (read: filthy rich) entrepreneur Christian Grey and a recent college graduate, Anastasia Steele. All it takes is a single meeting, Grey is bewitched, Steele is lusty, and we’re all reading about wild sexual encounters in bed, bathrooms, cars, boathouses, etc.—just about anywhere.
For anyone interested, I don’t want to spoil the plot line, so I’ll just say this—Grey’s bedroom tastes are not, um, typical. Poor Ana. All this said, I find myself wanting to know—what happens to Ana and Christian? What is his “situation” with work? How does Ana’s job work out? Does Jose make another pass at her? What of Kate (Ana’s gorgeous friend and roomie — we know she’s gorgeous because Ana tells us this every time Kate is inserted into the scene — gah!) and her relationship with Christian’s brother? And does Ana ever sign “the contract?”
And yes, it’s kinda hot. It’s most likely what today’s teenage girls are passing around on their Kindles, much like we did with our mothers’ copies of Wifey. Just make sure you keep your copy hidden—I can just picture some 11-year-old girl somewhere, grabbing Mommy’s iPad for a game of Angry Birds, only to find Mommy and ask, “What’s fisting?”
50 Shades of Grey