EL James's controversial novel, Fifty Shades of Grey, will not be made available to the citizens of Gaston County, according to a recent newspaper article. The Director of the Gaston County Public Library says the book is better suited for a more "urban" and "diverse" community.
From the moment I saw the article on the front page of the Gaston Gazette, I knew that Fifty Shades of Grey would be the next title on my bookshelf, the relic of a hard-won search for controversial printed material and my victory flag for claiming and defending First Amendment rights. With a headline proclaiming "Steamy Novel Not on Shelves," I immediately wondered if, in 2012, the most liberal of times we have yet to experience in millenial America, a fiction, exploring the romantic underpinnings of a consensual sadomasochistic relationship, had truly been banned. Less than twenty-four hours later, I was in line at Barnes and Noble behind another customer salivating to get her hands on the salacious tale. I found myself in line after a thorough scan of the fiction and romance sections yielded nothing but empty hands - and when I realized that the entire back shelf behind the cashier's counter was absolutely stacked from one end to the next with multiple copies of each book in the Fifty trilogy, a sea of black books with gray and white single-image covers staring out from behind, just out of reach. Shoppers would have to ask for a copy of each novel in order to purchase it.
While most cases of book banning in the U.S. occur in school libraries (usually as a result of parental rabble-rousing), my very own Gaston County Public Library refused to add UK novelist E L James's Fifty trilogy to its collection, citing its modern eroticism as the primary reason. According to Gazette reporter Diane Turbeyfill's interview with two local library directors in Gaston and Cleveland counties, the process of banning a book is one that can be initiated by library patrons for a variety of reasons. The Gaston County Library Director noted that she felt James's novel would be better placed in a Charlotte library, stating that a more "urban" and "diverse" population could appreciate the book. To a college English instructor, writer, and general supporter of human rights, these words were a stinging slap in the face to the academic and democratic communities. In fact, I found the director's statement to be dangerous, evidence of censorship stabbing the very heartbeats which propel a community to education and information: literacy and public access.
The novel is erotic. It addresses a difficult subject; it will make some readers uncomfortable. Some chapters made me uncomfortable. Fifty Shades of Grey is not, however, a unique piece of fiction, an incredibly well-written novel, or an original plot. In a world where the advent of e-readers has launched fledgling writers to quick and widespread readership, and in some cases, fame, such a to-do about a piece of erotic literature by an otherwise unknown writer seems not only unnecessary, but also excessively reactionary.
While many passages in this novel are scintillating and exciting, for me, its too-similar plot was a major turnoff. Fifty Shades of Grey is essentially Twilight - for moms. Dubbed "Mommy porn" by impressed and disgusted readers alike, the story of Ana Steele and Christian Grey might as well be that of Bella Swan and Edward Cullen - only in a whips-and-chains playroom high above the Seattle skyline as opposed to the rainy town of Forks, the setting of Stephenie Meyer's series. But wait - the novel is set in Washington, and follows the romantic yearnings of disyllabic-named female protagonists who are in love with rich, brooding social outcasts who offer little more than smoldering stares, unrealistic desire and innuendo, and an endless supply of fast cars, too-perfect families, lavish gifts, and alleged dark, secretive pasts. In fact, the similarities between Fifty and Twilight are numerous, almost embarrassing at times:
- Both protagonists work at a hardware store in Washington and study English literature (Bella reads Romeo and Juliet and Anna reads Tess of the D'Urbervilles). The correlation of each couple to its associated fiction is minimal, at best.
- The love interests of each are somber, perceptibly complex Heathcliff-like brooders who happen to be classical music aficionados and accomplished pianists who own the latest technology, clothing, and cars. Oh, and they can name obscure operas after listening to only the first three bars.
- Money is no object. Lavish excess abounds in the hands of the love interest and his family.
- Both women are irreparably insecure, relying on sarcasm and quirk to captivate their male counterparts. Their otherwise lack of enthusiasm for life in general is mind-numbing. Neither offers anything substantial as a heroine.
- The smells, facial expressions, episodic darkening and brightening of eyes, and low-toned voices of Edward and Christian may as well be generated by the same fictional person. Down to the "I-can't-put-my-finger-on-it-but-something-is-wrong" appeal, beauty is about it for these boys.
- James uses the words "taciturn" and "body wash" like Meyer uses "ochre" and "blood" - incessantly.
- Both books lack quality editing, contain repetitive prose, and never reach an emotional depth greater than "he loves me, he loves me not."
- The cover similarities featuring single, monochromatic objects contrasted against a solid black background are disappointing. Like Twilight, the object featured on the cover is a minimal part of the storyline (Christian uses a gray necktie to bind Ana's wrists), but does convey a larger, symbolic meaning.
Little in this novel is meritorious. Despite the unabashed and deliberate revising of Twilight,for an adult audience, there are some elements of the story that are fun, frivolous, and playful. Most women are suckers for a good love story, and will be entertained and amused by the cat-and-mouse intrigue between James's characters. Women who enjoyed Twilight will find the sexy parts that dominate this book eye-poppingly direct (although one only has a limited number of ways to describe orgasm before reeking of Roget's). In fact, I would wager that James breaks some new ground in erotic literature (a long-criticized genre for its lack of substance and meaning) in that she has been able to take it mainstream by infusing it with a slightly longer plotline that develops slowly - the first juicy scene doesn't occur until well after one-hundred pages.
Simply put, Fifty Shades of Grey is a guilty pleasure requiring no intellectual or emotional investment on behalf of its reader. I think its success mainly hinges on the fact that reading an erotic novel that details the basics of BDSM is a safe way to explore the fetish community without risk or social rejection. Reading this sort of book is also a walk into the unknown and the forbidden, and participating in it without directly being involved or affected. It's voyeurism at its best, and readers need not feel too guilty: after all, sex sells and America is a consumer's paradise.
I will read the other two books in the trilogy - Fifty was fun, and I'd like to see two scenarios unfold: what James will do to reconcile the terrible ending of the first book (which was, frankly, maddeningly incomplete in that no major plot lines are neatly tied up) and how closely she will ride Stephenie Meyer's coattails. I figure if she is going to ride her ass, she may as well pull her hair. After all, the two of them are undoubtedly enjoying the fiction formula to which their readers will gladly submit - time and time again.
*Note: If you are interested in how this subject has made its way mainstream, check out Newsweek Magazine's recent cover story "Working Women's Fantasies," which received not only intense criticism for the racy cover, but an overpouring of online outrage at the popular publication's walk on the wild side. Apparently, fetishism is not a newsmaker, and is isn't worthy of national intrigue despite its gradual blending into a variety of our entertainment media.
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