so i'm reading Fifty Shades of Grey. don't ask me why i'm doing this. no, wait. actually, please do ask me why, so that i might ease my conscience by explaining.
a friend at work passed it along to me. she said it was hysterical and smutty. for me, it's like reading the first Twilight book. i know in advance i won't like it, but it's something of a cultural phenomena, and who likes feeling left out?
that's one of the great things about books. if you hate them, you don't have to read the entire thing. i'm about seventy-five pages in. and judging by the sales figures, i probably don't have to tell you that, yes, it is one enormously sex-filled book, because it's probably already on your nightstand.
granted, i'm not at all familiar with the sex-book genre, but i'm assuming there's other titles out there like this? maybe? no? anyone? why this one is special from those and has sold whatever-million copies, i don't know. i don't really care. what gets me about the book, are all the italics.
it almost reads like a YA novel. (which is creepy). imagine if you will, a scene in a bedroom where lots of sexy stuff is happening, and the main character whispers to the heroine, "I want to kiss your face off." *this is a PG blog* the heroine's ensuing interior monologue goes something like this:
"He wants to kiss my face off?! Holy sh*t!"
EVERY frickin' TIME. i'm skimming the book as is, but i'm trying to let my eyes bounce over the italic parts. because you know what an italic, "Yow!" does in the midst of some sexy banter? it not only makes it really annoying and even less sexy, it's all my eyes see.
sexy scene sexy scene sexy scene. No frickin' way. sexy scene sexy scene. Holy crap. sexy scene sexy scene sexy scene Ugh. sexy scene sexy scene. Holy cow.
really? he has a room filled with all kinds of, um, stuff and the voice in your head says: Holy cow?
the internal voice in my head has begun shouting the italics in old skool Batman speak. every time i read one, i'm mentally turning it into BLAMMO! ZING! ZOWEY! which actually makes it more fun.
i probably won't give Fifty Shades more than another twenty pages. i was hoping for a fun read. something to curl up at night with, one of those guilty pleasure books you can't wait to get home to. instead it feels like homework. my eyes keep going to the library copy of The Man Who Ate Everything that's sitting open on my nightstand.
food writing. that's my guilty pleasure reading. clearly, i'm just not KABOOM enough for Fifty Shades. or maybe Fifty Shades of Grey is KABOOM enough for me.