I have a “50 Shades of Grey” guilty habit.
No, it’s not what you think.
I finally downloaded the book on my Kindle recently because I was tired of always being the only woman who hadn’t read the book. I had no interest in it and within a few months after its release, I began hearing that it was quite bad. But still, everyone I knew had read or was reading the book.
I found it harder and harder to engage in these discussions, but would only ask, “Is it really bad?” Most told me no, and a few proclaimed it awesome, engaging and a book they couldn’t put down.
So I relented and paid the $10 to download it on my Kindle (and thank goodness for e-readers… I seriously doubt all of us would be reading this book if our only choice was to read it in paperback for all to see).
Within a few pages, I regretted my decision. It was so bad. So very bad. I still can’t believe how bad this book is. I forced myself to finish it and it was so very difficult. I literally did a fist pump when I finished it, so relieved was I to be done with it.
I immediately headed to Amazon to read some reviews. Surely I couldn’t be the only one? At Amazon, I found hundreds of negative reviews. Hundreds upon hundreds. And best of all? They are deliciously written. They are fluent, cohesive, witty and intelligent. Everything this book is not. Everything this book should be, given that it was published. Given that it’s a runaway bestseller. Is it too much to ask that the book be fluent, cohesive, witty or intelligent? Apparently so.
But the reviews are. They are funny, entertaining and express as much bewilderment at the success of this book as I also feel.
So lately, I have adopted a new habit: When I am digging through the Kindle store looking for new reads, I head to the “50 Shades of Grey” page and read the newest negative reviews. I giggle my way through these (increasingly numerous) reviews and remind myself that I have no need to keep reading the trilogy. I can’t imagine it gets any better.