It should be noted that, ordinarily, I leave people and
their reading choices to themselves—I figure, hell, at least they’re reading (as it has become my greatest fear that the written word may soon face
extinction). So books about orphaned
wizards facing existential crises, sparkly vampiric heartthrobs wooing petulant
teenage girls, child-gladiators in post-apocalyptic reality-TV arenas, and the
like are a mildly enjoyable (if not
mind-numbing) necessary evil to keep the horrifyingly narrowing portal to
the world of literature open. Heaven
help us if anyone in the next generation has to actually ask what a book store
was…but, I digress.
I’m not going to be one of those readers leaping to the
soapbox to demonize or deify this book; in fact, having just finished the
“novel”, I am simply left puzzling over how wholly derivative literature has
become. Of course we’ve all heard that
there is nothing new under the proverbial sun (<-hence the cliché), we all stole from Shakespeare, Shakespeare stole
from the Greeks…etc…but this book honestly felt like a hastily stitched
together mess of Twilight, Jane Eyre, and Taming of the Shrew—even reaching
into the world of films like “9 ½ Weeks”, “Pretty Woman” and “Bridget Jones
Diary”—utterly and completely devoid of original thought or development.
I’m no stranger to borrowing from literary prototypes—the
great works can inspire great work when the creator reaches deep into the
fundamental elements and weaves something imaginative and new. It’s moving and engaging and exciting when
stories pay homage to the influences that came before them—when a reader slips
across an allusion or a parallel setting that brings the connection between
existing archetypes from previous literature it unifies the human experience
and rewards the reader for his or her membership in this “club”. However, what “Fifty Shades of Grey”
accomplishes is akin pouring Pepsi, Coke, and Dr. Pepper in a bottle,
relabeling it, and marketing it as “My New Cola”—it’s just inauthentic and
off-putting somehow.
Is “Fifty Shades of Grey” distracting? Sure—it does get into your head. Is it sexy?
Yes, at times—but then this brings to mind a whole ‘nother set of
concerns about the possibility of misconstruing and setting the advancement of relations
between men and women (let alone feminine rights and liberties) back half a
century. Okay, perhaps this may be a bit
of an overstatement, but erotica is nothing new—so why have ten million fiercely
defensive readers breathlessly swept this particular book into their
hearts and nightstand drawers? While I
can appreciate the attraction to the complexities of a world I don’t know from
personal experience (wealth, privilege, BDSM lifestyles…) at the core of this
story lies a clear, and troubling, statement: if a man is rich enough, confident enough, handsome enough, and damaged
enough—a woman will beg, literally, to
be broken and mastered by him; in exchange, the woman will provide the magical
elixir of her love to “fix” the
beautiful, wounded, omnipotent man.
Happily ever after indeed…
Whether or not we care to admit it, an economy in affairs of
the heart DOES exist—there is always some system of checks and balances in the
exchanges between two attracted individuals.
Affection, intimacy, loyalty—all currencies up for negotiation and
modification by the consenting partners, shaping a mutually beneficial contract
that meets the terms and conditions of BOTH parties—but derivative, escapist
fan fiction like “Fifty Shades of Grey” fails to realize that the business of
human attraction does not speak for
the unnamable mysteries of the human heart—whose
depths are far darker and more enigmatic than this novel ever even
imagines. I suppose I can only hope that
the people (oh, let’s face it…the women)
who pick up the book recognize this fact and keep their tongues firmly planted
in their cheeks as they read it.
Now, you’ll have to excuse me…Amazon has a special on the
sequels, “Fifty Shades Darker” and “Fifty Shades Freed”. You know, for further research.
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