A Lazy Reader, Indeed

In the process of buying a house, moving, and applying to doctoral programs, I have neglected my pleasure reading and my blog. I anticipate a return in a few weeks, where I will hopefully be reviewing The English Patient, Love in the Time of Cholera, and Eve and Adam.

Finally Free of this Trilogy: Fifty Shades Freed by EL James

The third time's the charm. Trifecta. Bad things come in threes. Triumvirate. The Holy Trinity.

No matter how you approach them, trilogies set grand expectations for readers. The very notion that a plotline and its characters can span multiple volumes (science-fiction fantasy worlds, anyone?) suggests a magnitude of polished story-telling and a general feeling of completion, even accomplishment. Fifty Shades Freed, the final installment in E L James' erotic BDSM trilogy, still feels incomplete and accomplishes little more than frustration.

Before I discuss Freed, I must make a disclaimer: this review contains spoilers, and I hereby make two apologies. First, to my readers, for revealing the plot (as it were), and to the author, for whom I have great respect and consider an inspiration in the self-publishing arena of the digital literary era. Mrs. James has established herself a shrewd businesswoman, pandering to the Twilight-bereft and most women under the age of fifty. She has inspired perhaps the second greatest sexual revolution among women in her time, encouraging women to embrace the idea of power through submission, or as she puts it, "topping from the bottom." Without this trilogy, fledgling writers of any sort, and especially those of erotic fiction, would not view publishing or the industry as a promising endeavor. Watching the increasing popularity of James, Hugh Howey, and other self-published sensations has given those of us who "sleep, perchance to dream" a renewed investment in the self-advocacy process that is often overshadowed by the academic and financial snobbery pervasive among agents and publishing-houses alike.

That being said, Mrs. James owes her readers an apology for the hackneyed and poorly-structured volume that concludes the would-be epic trysts between Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey. Her scope is too large. The final novel seeks a task bigger than the story itself - to finish up loose plot lines supposedly that drive the connection between the three volumes and to give readers a fairytale, happy ending for two characters they have come to care about. I'm no fool - I didn't expect James to crank out a literary achievement akin to the Lord of the Rings; after all, how does one compare a trilogy of handcuffs and silver balls to one with an invented linguistic system and complete fantasy universe that can be mapped? I did expect, however, a tighter, more neatly finished read. It's almost as if Freed is the print version of a 70's experimental rock jam (and not the good kind, like intentionally experimental Joycean verbiage or perhaps a Floydian slip). In short, Freed's prose actually communicates to the reader that Jamesdoesn't know what she's doing - and by the latter third of the novel- is flying by the seat of her pants. The last ten pages themselves induce whiplash on the reader - who snaps her head from one page to the other, asking, "huh?"

Newsflash: it is never a good idea to experiment with narration for the first time in the middle of a trilogy. It is even worse to experiment with it again in the conclusion, and throw in some flash-forward and flashback narrative just for fun. Yes, it is like doing the 'Time Warp' again. Add in the fact that James is doing this in the end of the book, between paragraphs, with no prior established pattern. All of a sudden, there are two Little Blips? There's Teddy? There's the emergency c-section--ahem, ahem, reminiscent of Bella Swan's except it is not fang-assisted. James concludes with a well-written epilogue narrated by Christian, not unlike Stephenie Meyer's too-soon-leaked-and-then-discontinued Midnight Sun. 

Fifty Shades of Grey is a phenomenal piece of fiction - and in the purest sense of the word. It is a phenomenon, a trend, a fad, and one that will quickly fade as did the likes of Twilight and Harry Potter, albeit James is dealing with an entirely different kind of fantasy universe. James has inspired a wealth of new writers, many of whom are creating the sort of prose I dub the "pop-fiction formula," or writing what sells. Enter your nearest bookstore and see a display of black-covered novels with monochromatic, suggestive objects on the cover flanked by copies of Fifty.

Bottom line: these novels are good beach reading. Expect to wile away your hours and pass your time with mediocre narrative interspersed with eye-popping erotic passages. The height of James's talent soars in these climactic scenes. As for a polished trilogy that leaves readers with that all-finished, complete and satisfied feeling - look elsewhere. Looking back on my experiences reading these novels, I'm glad I read them. I'm glad they're out there. They break new ground in popularizing erotic fiction, a genre long deemed as one without merit. The novels allow women (and men) to explore and discuss a taboo topic sans fear of judgment because the topic has now gone mainstream, to certain degrees. At the end of the day, I can't say that Fifty was all that bad - in retrospect, I consider my time spent with these novels valuable in one way or another.

Perhaps the intent, after all, was delayed gratification.

Fifty Shades Better: E L James's Sequel is Superior

One would be hard-pressed to find a woman in her mid-twenties to early forties who hasn't read or heard about the popular Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy by English author E L James. These readers and the men who love them seem to be addicts: if not reading the novel, somebody is at least talking about it. The series' popularity, which has skyrocketed in the past several weeks, is largely due to the author's conquering of a brave, new literary world: taking fetish erotica and turning it mainstream.

The second installment of Ana Steele and Christian Grey's intensely emotional and physical romance fares far better than its predecessor. The sequel, Fifty Shades Darker, is more plot-driven, involving a greater attention to character development with several well-placed plot devices that propel the novel past erotica into more action- and mystery-oriented hints of genre. While James's novel is primarily classified as erotic romance, Fifty Shades Darker is less erotic, but, in fact, darker, than the first novel in the series.

I criticized the first novel for following Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series too closely, a mistake that could have ended the success of her work had the books been released in print on a traditional printing schedule. Her advantage, self-publishing digitally for an e-reading audience, meant that fans could pick up all three novels together in one fell swoop and attain that 'finished collection' feeling of bibliophilic accomplishment. James's reliance on Meyer's successful model (read: commercially successful) takes a refreshing turn to a more unique voice and style while still maintaining some of the merits of Fifty Shades of Grey that attracted her readers in the first place. For instance, Fifty Shades Darker shows James's attention and love for her characters by recalling earlier snippets of dialogue and then-insignificant plot pieces to better age Ana and Christian (and their romance) into personas that are more tangible, more believable, and less static.

Where James surpasses Meyer, perhaps, is in her experimentation with voice, although its jarring effect on the reader results from her novice skill as an author and lack of quality editing (the latter a fate also suffered by Meyer). Utilizing a third-person narrator, for the first time in the series, Darker opens with a brief prologue that introduces the reader to Christian's tormented past of physical abuse and neglect, describing him as a child, reliving the moments of his pain. The novel concludes with a similar piece, but shifts at this point into a polyphonic narrative, even if only for a few paragraphs. The final passages of Darker are narrated by a seemingly minor character; it becomes clearer, after reading those passages, that James does not intend this character to be minor in the final installment of the trilogy. A weakness is that the narration tends to 'frame' the story, but without being cohesive in doing so. James neglects to develop the third-person narrator who opens the novel and use him consistently, and indulges a first-person perspective from a different voice to finish the novel. A bit like whiplash, these oddly-constructed and inconsistently used narratives do little more than make the reader scratch her head. Why not use flashback or dialogue to further develop Christian's character? What function is served by the impersonal narrator?

Weaknesses aside, Darker is a fun read. While the erotic passages that popularized the series are greater in number, their impact on the reader is noticeably diminished. As Christian begins to separate himself from his 'darker' tendencies, the steamy page-turner becomes more vanilla (a term Christian uses to describe ordinary, 'normal' sex) by the chapter. Readers are less interested in the sexual aspect of the characters' relationship than they are the future of it. The fact that James can create this type of concern in her reader by exploring it through her characters is enough to forget about the repetitive phrases ("sweat, bodywash, and Christian, the most delicious smell in the world") and move forward into the plot.

The most exciting plot development, however, is not the development of the romantic relationship at hand, but is the appearance of 'Mrs. Robinson', Christian's former dominatrix, and her interactions with Christian, Ana, and the Greys throughout the novel. Coupled with a few eerie appearances from Leila, a former submissive, the arrival of new characters who are 'in' on Christian's fetish certainly adds much-needed plot tension that is not sexual in nature.

Overall, James's work in Fifty Shades Darker is better. A stronger command of her plotline along with a noticeable sensitivity for (and care in creating) her characters results in a more worthwhile read. While her claim to fame and writing talent lies predominantly in her ability to construct eye-popping erotic prose, the strategies James uses for cohesion are not effective: the scattered attempts to incorporate varied narration and the reliance on repetitive language do take away from the novel's attempt at polish.

The final book in the series, Fifty Shades Freed, awaits, taunting the reader with a gleaming pair of handcuffs on its cover. Will James's conclusion show a greater evolution of talent? Perhaps. The differences between the first and second novels are measurable. As for the plot, whether or not James chooses to experiment with narration and borrow from the action/adventure and mystery genres remains to be seen...laters, baby.

Recently Acquired

A Girl and Her Books has added some fresh titles to her over-stuffed bookshelves, also known as The Collection. Here are some books that have recently been acquired and are next on the to-read list:

• The Radleys by Matt Haig
• Corked by Kathryn Borel
• Just Let Me Lie Down: Necessary Terms for the Half-Insane Working Mom by Kristin van Ogtrop
• Regret the Error: How Media Mistakes Pollute the Press and Imperil Free Speech by Craig Silverman and Jeff Jarvis
• Dixie Spirits: True Tales of the Strange and Supernatural in the South by Christopher Kiernan Coleman
• A Whisper of Blood: A Collection of Modern Vampire Stories edited by Ellen Datlow

Reading Radar

A Girl and Her Books will periodically publish a short list of works on her Reading Radar - books that have not made it into the collection yet, but that are on the list of books to be purchased, read, and reviewed.

May/June's Reading Radar:

• Divergent by Veronica Roth
• Insurgent by Veronica Roth
• Starters by Lissa Price
• The Host by Stephenie Meyer

Why I Will Always Read Real Books

The overwhelming barrage of advertisements heralding the latest LCD touchscreens, “apps,” wi-fi capability, and new lightweight, slim-line designs of e-readers makes me want to run screaming into a library, hurl myself into the stacks, and grab as many old, smelly books with dog-eared and yellow pages as I can, clutching them to my chest and saving them from a fate worse than ketchup stains combined with overdue stamps.

Will we see a day when books are exhibited alongside dinosaur bones and ancient suits of armor? Will the steady companions of my childhood be curated as simple relics of the past, the aged paper fossils of times that exist only in memory? I fear that in my lifetime, there will come a day when I can no longer browse the aisles of a Barnes and Noble and finger the pages of a brand-new book – smell the ink and paper, caress the dust jacket and its smoothness. 

Ironically, scads of today’s popular fiction are comprised of post-Apocalyptic, futurist nightmares in which Big Brother is really watching us, and our basic human rights are stripped away by the emotionless products of ‘humanity’ living in technologically-advanced society.  Certainly, imagining the executives at Amazon laughing maniacally behind the latest version of the Kindle Fire as they plot world domination is a stretch; however, imagining the next great novel that I want to read (or write) being reduced to the single click of ‘download’ or  ‘delete’ is a sobering thought.

When I was in graduate school, I researched “place” and reader-character interaction as part of a Southern literature seminar I conducted on Thulani Davis’s novel, 1959. Essentially, this novel could be considered the African-American version of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” only with more serious and widespread overtones about the birth of the Civil Rights era. My argument is that Davis uses a carefully-constructed “place” in her novel, using the fiction formula that served William Faulkner and Eudora Welty, along with Harper Lee: a town, or place, that is believable as such, in fiction, creates a significant emotional response in the reader’s interpretation of the text and connection to its characters. The interplay between character, reader, and place, then, construct a reading of a novel that can best be described as experiential. 

But I digress – my point here is that in my research, I read a book by J.A. Appleyard titled Becoming a Reader. In this classic text that studies the relationship between a reader and what S/he is reading, Appleyard thoroughly examines the psychological development that readers experience as they become more intellectually, emotionally, and physically involved in the process. I liken the progression through these stages (ultimately toward active reading) to the common experience we have when listening to music: whatever we are experiencing in our lives at the moment we first heard "Welcome to the Jungle" is the memory and feeling we forever attach to that song, even if only subconsciously. It is because we are interacting with the music in the same way we interact with a text - we are feeling it, thinking about it, responding to it (even if involuntarily so), and allowing it to become a part of our intellectual and emotional landscape. Therefore, this is why I remember being squished to near-death underneath a purple bean bag chair in the basement of a childhood friend's home when he and some of our school friends thought it would be a great idea to smother me. Every time I hear "Welcome to the Jungle," I recall the sticky bounces and clucks of evil glee as pre-teen boys pounded the bean bag harder and harder into my tear-stained face. That was not my idea of a fun birthday party.

Simply put, readers attach emotions to books. We take as much to the text as we take from it, imbuing it with the minutia of our daily lives, the scents of our kitchens, the tremble in our nervous fingers, the heartbeat of the little league double-header, and the crackly scarlet sunburn we brought home from vacation. Books are as much a part of our experience as we are a part of the experience in the book: I was recovering from a botched Caesarean-section in the hospital while Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were camping in the woods for several hundred pages in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. All of us were scared, miserable, and feeling alone in an uncertain world that had changed dramatically from the world we knew and navigated with ease. 

Who's not to say that we can develop relationships with e-readers? I'm sure we can. After all, one of the next books on my list to review is Sleeping with Your Smartphone. But the palpable, tangible act of turning a page and the joy of inhaling a book's delicious scent, old or new, cannot be replaced by any touchscreen or "app." 

The sacred private space in which we interact with books, despite our tastes in genre, is a holy place. It is a real, human experience that involves all of our senses and various levels of our ability to think, reason, and feel. Reading a book, a real, honest-to-God book, is so much more than learning about the wives of Henry VIII or getting lost in Middle Earth with hairy-footed Hobbits. Reading a real book is as meaningful as touching a wet turtle shell for the first time, having that first sip of eggnog on grandma's back porch while watching the snow fall, or unexpectedly holding hands with someone who makes your heart flutter before you decided if you were ready to hold hands or not. 

When we read a book, we live a book, both with it and inside it. Technology does not create warm, fuzzy feelings (unless the batteries get hot). Digital thumbprints do not carry memories and smells, or even germs. The mystery of who might have read a book before us and the voyeuristic fun we have when we try to decipher tiny marginal notes or, even better, find a bookmark or scrap of paper inside a used book, cannot be replicated on an e-reader. E-readers do not engage our senses or emotions as deeply, and change the act of reading so that it is no longer an intimate exchange. Real books do. I speculate that the humanity in that experience is merely incidental.

Twilight for Moms? Review of Fifty Shades of Grey by E L James

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. 

I could list more eerie similarities, but my "Eureka!" moments lost their joy when I discovered the origin of James's writing inspiration. Formerly a fanfic writer, James penned Fifty Shades of Grey as an afterthought to a short-story originally titled "Master of the Universe" (although I'm sure the correlation to He-Man is contrived, at best), that was inspired by Twilight. Support from the fanfic community inspired her to self-publish the first novel, which, after gaining popularity, sold ten million print copies in six weeks, according to multiple readers who have posted reviews on their own sites.

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.