Fifty Shades of Dismay

If you've been to a supermarket or a book shop in the last month, you'll have noticed many middle-aged women acting strangely. They may have been clasping books to their chests, giggling with their friends or hiding something under their slightly less embarassing purchases of Tena Lady and concentrated prune juice. These ladies have been bewitched. Bewitched by a dreadful piece of 'literature' - or as I now refer to it, shiterature - that supposedly awakens the mind to all that they have been missing out in their boring, everyday lives.

Originally, Fifty Shades of Grey started life as Twilight fan fiction. You hear that? Twilight. Sparkly vampires who like to assert their dominance over girls a couple of hundred years younger than them. One of the worst series of books and films in the world has influenced yet another series. The circle of life is strong in this one.

The author sets out the tale of Anastasia Steele, a seemingly-feeble, gentle minded student, who is sent to interview the infamous Christian Grey after her friend falls ill and is unable to do it herself. How convenient. As Ana conducts the interview, she becomes of some kind of 'spark' between them. Oh how I wish it had been the kind of spark that they warn you about when you use your mobile phone at a petrol station - at least the story would have finished there. Mr Grey then decides to stalk the poor girl for all she is worth just to see her again. Conveniently, Ana works at a hardware store where Christian decides to pick up some rope and cable ties for some 'DIY'. How delightfully obvious. Despite the fact that cable ties are not appropriate for any type of sexual intercourse, I would have been far more impressed had he also picked up some caustic soda and perhaps a new broom at the same time. Domesticity is sexy. Nothing makes me happier than a man with a plunger.

As the story progresses, we see how Ana starts to fall for the man who describes himself as 'fifty shades of fucked up'. Lovely. However, there is a problem! Ana, lovely, gentle, sweet Ana who likes British literature and English tea is a virgin! Now, aside from the fact that the author seems to be linking Britishness to how much of a prude Ana is at this point of the tale, I was also slightly annoyed at how she makes Christian react to her admission. A 21 year old virgin is not the end of the world, and it's certainly not something to be shocked at. I know it probably shouldn't have irked me as much, but it just astounds me that more people haven't raised this point.

Later, the writing takes yet another turn for the worse. Mr Grey seems to forget to go to work, seemingly chasing his interest around the entire country and flashing the cash wherever he goes. Ana is bought a Mac, an Audi, a Blackberry... Is there any high profile company that hasn't been discussed in this book? The author is one step away from describing a party full of high profile officials with a waiter clutching a golden plate of foil-wrapped nut-based chocolates. Although she declares her anger at seemingly being paid for sex, Ana decides to hang onto her presents; hasn't she heard of ebay?

Unsurprisingly, Ana decides that she wants more from Christian, despite the fact that he is an emotionally destructive, aggressive and seemingly slightly psychotic specimen .Even when he has beaten fifty shades of dignity out of our protagonist with his apparently 'exotic' range of items - all of which can be obtained from Ann Summers, so nothing that exciting - and she has been confronted with a contract, whereby she must agree never to tell anyone about their activities or about him. Not that keeping away is possible, what with the fact that he turns up wherever she may be thanks to his collection of fast cars, his private jet, a helicopter and, what's that? Oh yeah, his mobile phone tracking software. How romantic. Is this yet another half-arsed attempt at that old argument that girls are unable to keep a check on their emotions and can't be trusted where men are involved? Oh tell me another one, I'm bored of this old tale.

Perhaps what riles me most (and oh God I hope my mother isn't reading this. If so, hi mum! Tea, two sugars, two PROPER sugars, none of this hoping I won't notice if you leave half of it out) is the unrealistic way in which their sexual adventures are mapped out. I don't know teenagers who couldn't even manage it as much as they could, and the vast majority of teenage boys are more unstoppable than the Duracell bunny. The writing suggests that they have absolutely perfect sex, every single time. That doesn't happen. In reality there's always a funny noise or a face that makes you giggle, and no one has as good a time as Ana seems to. At least, I hope not, or I'm doing it totally wrong.

I know that writing a scathing review of this book is the 'in' thing to do, but I honestly have problems with this book. It is sexist, seemingly ignoring the last fifty years of feminism's growth in society, and it is just bizarre. Much could be said for the overwhelming number of commas that E L James feels is appropriate for a sentence, too.

Essentially, Fifty Shades of Grey is just sex with supplies from B&Q, with an airy fairy female protagonist who is seemingly out of her depth with a man more suited to Broadmoor than... Well, anywhere.

Give me Pride and Prejudice any day. I don't think Mr Darcy's the whips and paddles type..