Our Crack Tongue & Groove
What fresh hell is this?
The plot of 50 Shades of Grey, if one can call it such, concerns a young woman Ana (a virgin to boot) who hooks up with a rich bloke, Christian, to indulge in endless bouts of S&M sex. Have I got a problem with that? No – great novels can be hung on the flimsiest of premises. Have I got a problem with characterisation that has less depth than the Mr. Men (Mr. Slap? Miss Tickle?) and a prose style that resembles Dan Brown trying to re-write the Marquis de Sade for Mills and Boon? You bet your spanked ass I do! These novels (it’s a friggin’ trilogy – Christ!) contain some of the most epically awful writing ever bashed out in the name of literature. More committed readers than myself have already noted that in the first book alone Ana bites her lip 35 times, Christian “cocks his head to one side” 17 times and between them they manage to raise their eyebrows a whopping 50 times. Perhaps the most egregious form of mind-numbing repetition however is with Ana’s “inner goddess” (her wretchedly anthropomorphic subconscious), to wit: “My inner goddess is thrilled”, “My inner goddess smacks her lips”, “My inner goddess swoons”, “My inner goddess is still basking in a remnant of post-coital glow”, “My inner goddess pole-vaults over the fifteen-foot bar” (“My inner goddess finishes second in a North Tyneside Lambada competition”) ad nauseam. By the time I’d read a few chapters of this nonsense I wanted to give her inner goddess the kind of hiding that her backside was being subjected to. 50 shades of shite more like. RM