So the book that glorifies abusive relationships has been made into a film. No, not the Spongebob Squarepants movie. Fifty Shades of Grey.
Anastasia and Christian, our heroes. One a dim-witted woman who falls for the slick patter of control freak, Mr Grey. So far, so meh.
The fact that this series started off as fan fiction based, in part, on the tropes of Twilight is bewildering. How does tripe like this get published? Reading it is like reading every bad piece of fan fiction rolled into one. The dialogue is atrocious, the story laughable, the characters so untrue to life that you could only imagine them in some awful piece of teenage prose. Fifty Shades makes Twilight look like Pride and Prejudice.
If you had a friend like Anastasia, you would tell her to run a mile from Christian. I would suggest giving her a good slap but she’d probably fall in love with you if you tried that.
If you had a friend like Christian, you’d advise him to get some type of psychiatric help.
So why do certain women adore fictional heroes who intimidate, stalk and isolate their women from their friends and family? So far, so Twilight. Edward was the original stalker that every teen girl loved. Now we have the adult version. Oh, what joy!
Unlike Edward, Christian uses alcohol to get Anastasia to do as he wishes. So far, so sex criminal. If you don’t believe me, study up on how women in abusive relationships act and then compare them to Miss Bondage Doormat. It has been proven in studies that women who enjoy the series have history of abuse. Far be it for me to comment about this but…sigh.
The fact that Anastasia changes Christian over the course of the trilogy really doesn’t change the facts of this series’ flaws. If your daughter was dating someone like Mr Grey, you would go insane with anxiety.
A few years ago, I was sat at a bus-stop with a couple of women. One woman, in her late sixties, said, ‘I have been reading that Fifty Shades’. The other responded, ‘Oh? What did you think?’ ‘Let’s just say I read it with wet fingers’. Cue projectile vomiting by me all over the two women, the pavement, the road and passers-by. Mind you, I read it with wet fingers too, but only because I was crying with laughter.
I am not saying you shouldn’t read the Fifty Shades series but there are better books out there. Some of them written by people who can actually write. Just saying.