Chick Lit Writers Who Love The Sex in 50 Shades?
I just finished Martel Maxwell's latest column for the Huffington Post, in defense of the "thrilling" erotic scenes throughout 50 Shades of Grey.
If you're just tuning in, this is approximately the exact fucking opposite of the truth. Here's an example of what turns Anastasia on:
"Put the chicken in the fridge."
This is not a sentence I had ever expected to hear from Christian Grey, and only he can make it sound hot, really hot.
And an example of Ana's descriptive skills, as Christian drips ice cream on her tethered body and licks it off:
"Oh...it's cold."
followed by the assertion that she is
"Caught up in his cool vanilla spell."
Now, I'll be the first to admit that I don't read erotica or romance, not if I can help it. That said, I've been a bookseller, English teacher, and freelance writer. I've been a professional proofreader and worked for a publisher. I've read a lot of books that I didn't want to and I've come across a lot of sex. (Being the sci/fi geek that I am, Piers Anthony comes to mind.)
But none of that sex- literally none of it- was as unappealing as the repetitive, mindless dribble in 50 Shades. I strongly believe that women are more stimulated by intellectual sexuality than by visual sexuality, as is the case with men. I know it's true for me. When I invest myself in a character, I can get on board with any "kinky fuckery" (Christian's words, not mine) that they can dream up. Ana is both uninteresting and, frankly, unrelatable. I don't give a flying squirrel's hoo-ha whether she orgasms or not. You couldn't pay me to give a fuck about what gets her virginal rocks off. (SPOILER: It's everything.)
Combine a lack of enthusiasm for either character with a truly repugnant view of sexual abuse and BDSM, and you have an inkling of how hot 50 Shades makes me. I read this book next to my mother, my fiancee's guy friends, and my soon-to-be inlaws. There wasn't a single instance of "panty-combusting" (Ana's words) steaminess that made me want to flush, blush, bite my lip, or look away in shame that I was reading porn in the company of my family and friends.
Picture someone who gets their rocks off on Q-Tips. That person would not be in the least bit interested by this sex.
In closing, I'm sure there are those who will argue that the review was fake. Is that possible? Sure. It rangs true, as Martel Maxwell did her write her own chick lit novel and obviously is speaking as one of EL James' British peers, but I suppose it could still be parody.
Sort of like 50 Shades, in fact.
If you're just tuning in, this is approximately the exact fucking opposite of the truth. Here's an example of what turns Anastasia on:
"Put the chicken in the fridge."
This is not a sentence I had ever expected to hear from Christian Grey, and only he can make it sound hot, really hot.
And an example of Ana's descriptive skills, as Christian drips ice cream on her tethered body and licks it off:
"Oh...it's cold."
followed by the assertion that she is
"Caught up in his cool vanilla spell."
Now, I'll be the first to admit that I don't read erotica or romance, not if I can help it. That said, I've been a bookseller, English teacher, and freelance writer. I've been a professional proofreader and worked for a publisher. I've read a lot of books that I didn't want to and I've come across a lot of sex. (Being the sci/fi geek that I am, Piers Anthony comes to mind.)
But none of that sex- literally none of it- was as unappealing as the repetitive, mindless dribble in 50 Shades. I strongly believe that women are more stimulated by intellectual sexuality than by visual sexuality, as is the case with men. I know it's true for me. When I invest myself in a character, I can get on board with any "kinky fuckery" (Christian's words, not mine) that they can dream up. Ana is both uninteresting and, frankly, unrelatable. I don't give a flying squirrel's hoo-ha whether she orgasms or not. You couldn't pay me to give a fuck about what gets her virginal rocks off. (SPOILER: It's everything.)
Combine a lack of enthusiasm for either character with a truly repugnant view of sexual abuse and BDSM, and you have an inkling of how hot 50 Shades makes me. I read this book next to my mother, my fiancee's guy friends, and my soon-to-be inlaws. There wasn't a single instance of "panty-combusting" (Ana's words) steaminess that made me want to flush, blush, bite my lip, or look away in shame that I was reading porn in the company of my family and friends.
Picture someone who gets their rocks off on Q-Tips. That person would not be in the least bit interested by this sex.
In closing, I'm sure there are those who will argue that the review was fake. Is that possible? Sure. It rangs true, as Martel Maxwell did her write her own chick lit novel and obviously is speaking as one of EL James' British peers, but I suppose it could still be parody.
Sort of like 50 Shades, in fact.