Customer Reviews

Fifty Shades of Grey: Book One of the Fifty Shades Trilogy (Unabridged)

Oh My, I mean really, Oh my, oh my, oh my......No readers, I have not just been whipped (pardon the pun) into a bosom heaving wreck by the size of my partner's "impressive length". I have in fact, just dragged myself through to the final page of this ludicrous nonsense and found myself almost speechless. Almost...

The main character, Christian Grey, is quite obviously deranged. This does not however, deter Ana, who for some inexplicable reason, has spent so long with her head in a book that she has never looked in a mirror and noticed that she is a "total babe". A "total babe" who also happens to be a 21 year old virgin. No, Ana, in the space of 3 weeks, falls so crazily in love with "Mr Grey" that she manages to bypass the whole deranged thing and instead concentrates all her efforts on a) going from virgin to porn star faster than Hussain Bolt off the blocks and b) deciding whether to let him hit her with stuff. As you do.

As for Mr Grey, obviously, readers can't be allowed to see him as simply a deranged, manipulative psycho so let's give him smouldering good looks, a few zillion quid to throw around and hey, and this is the clincher, the ability to love art and music (y'know, like Nazi's do in the war films). (Note - the bit where he plays the "haunting" piano piece, semi naked, with his eyes closed actually made me laugh so much that I almost wet myself - in a non-orgasmic way. Check it out....enjoy! ). As if that wasn't enough he also has a personal and financial interest in saving the world from famine. Just that old world peace and cancer to sort out and then hey, job's a good `un. I mean really, how did the world ever shamble along without him? So what made this beautiful, charismatic and talented man so brutal? Could it be a traumatic childhood perhaps? Why, yes I think it could...yaaaaawn....

So, the 2 beautiful people come together (Oh my, another pun) and the rest of the book is basically about Ana wondering if she should let him hit her with stuff and then letting him hit her with stuff and Mr Grey wondering if he should stop hitting her with stuff but still hitting her with stuff while she whines on about wanting "more" love and less of the hitting stuff and he whines on about how he doesn't know how to give "more" cos he has only ever hit people with stuff.

In between these nonsensical blatherings they have lots of sex, which, like piano playing, speaking foreign languages and making zillions of quid, he possesses boundless expertise. Obviously. Luckily, virginal Ana also has her "inner Goddess" to guide her on the art of sex play and soon becomes an orgasm machine, chucking them out all over the place in a rampant, fevered haze of lust. So much so that she overlooks Mr Grey's general bastardry and bends over nicely for a few beatings. She is also too enraptured to take much notice his incessant stalking, which would have got lesser men arrested. Oh, and his `feeder' tendencies that, if successful, would have surely added a good 10 stone onto Ana's lovely buttocks which in turn would have incurred the cost of a refurb' to the `red room of pain' when his ceiling shackles needed reinforcing. Luckily he can afford it.

As many other readers have noted, the writing is appallingly poor and, if you removed the sex bits, would resemble a love struck teenager's diary. It's all been said before so I won't dwell on it. I will just say, if you are looking for erotic fiction, look elsewhere, if you are looking for an unintentionally laugh out loud bit of fluff and nonsense then crack open a bottle, put your feet up and prepare to be amused. Personally I would just say that there goes a day of my life that I will never get back. Oh my!

"So" he asks, looking at me with his grey eyes "what did you think of the book?"
I bite my lower lip, looking at his beautiful face.
"well?" he asks. I roll my eyes and blush and have an earth shatttering orgasm as I see his trousers hanging in.... That way. My inner goddess faceplants.
"oh my" I say.
We bonk for a few minutes.
He points his long finger at me. "you haven't answered me yet."
Holy crap I mutter.
He spanks me, I have an orgasm which makes me shatter into a thousand pieces then burst into tears.
Him and his twitchy palms. Ooh and his white linen shirt.
He tweaks my nipple. I orgasm again. From virgin to sex kitten in less time then it takes most people to clean the fridge. Not bad!!!
We have earth shattering sex AGAIN.
And again

Repeat until authors pen runs out.
The end.

I downloaded this one morning whilst listening to BBC Radio 4's Woman's Hour and hearing E.L James being interviewed.

I'll confess: I did read it from end to end, and I must also confess that my Trollope took a backseat for a couple of days. But when I'd finished 50 SoG, it was a relief to go back to some proper literature, feeling saddened, cheapened, almost used, by having read it. Make no mistake: 50 Shades of Grey is utter rubbish!

The central theme is that a rather naive college student, Ana, is swept off her feet after a chance encounter with a fabulously wealthy business man, Christian Grey CEO. (He's ok though because his company sends aid to Darfur.) Not only is he immensely rich, but he has the looks to match - of which we are constantly reminded. He has "two penetrating gray eyes". Yes, that'll be both of them, and they combine to give him a "penetrating gaze"; he has "beautifully chiseled lips" and a square jaw. This together with the way his gray sweat pants hang off his hips "in that way", leave the poor girl wobbly at the knees.

His penis of course is equally magnificent. Indeed it scarcely ever appears without her being bowled over by its "impressive length". His erection (permanent, it appears) is "impressive". And of course he only has to enter her for her to have an an orgasm that causes her body to "convulse and shatter into a thousand pieces". Next time she "shatters again into tiny fragments", before "her traitorous body explodes in an intense body-shattering orgasm". She wonders will her body withstand "another earth-shattering moment". At least he is polite enough to comment in a moment of untypical post-coital congeniality, "You're shattered, aren't you?".
And so it goes on. The book does not reveal the mechanics by which the tiny fragments of the orgasm-shattered Ana were constantly put back together again. The secret of this process might have served Humpty Dumpty well.

The twist in the tale is that Christian is a sadistic sexual dominant who likes to tie his women up and thrash them before intercourse. It's not entirely clear whether this is consensual - but having been gagged Ana doesn't manage to say "no", so at least it's not rape. The agonising decision that Ana has to make is whether to lose him, or sign a contract submitting to his perversion.

As an undercurrent there is a suggestion that Christian himself was abused as a child, and this may explain his brutal treatment of women. Although she discovers that she is his 16th submissive partner, his own sad childhood engenders sympathy in Ana's mind - and so being whipped, spanked, gagged, tied up and forcibly screwed is the least she might do for him.
The man is not totally thoughtless: he arranges for her to be seen by his ice-cool, blonde doctor who prescribes contraception. After all, what fun would it be thrashing a woman who was pregnant? In the meantime he carries an endless supply of condoms, referred to by James as "foil packets". So he "grabs a foil packet"; releases her hair in order to rip a foil packet; and this delightful passage:
"You want it, you got it, baby," he mutters producing a foil packet from his pants pocket while he unzips his pants. Oh, Mr Boy Scout. He rolls the condom over his erection and gazes down at me. "I sure hope you're ready," he breathes, a salacious smile across his face. And in a moment, he's filling me [...] I groan... oh yes. "Christ, Ana. You're so ready," he whispers in veneration.

Again it would be wrong to traduce Christian while ignoring his good points: he replaces her ageing and much loved Beetle with a new Audi and takes her for a trip in his helicopter; and he buys her a first edition of Tess of the D'Urbervilles. Yes, he's not a total arse: he likes Delibes and Pouilly Fume and can play the piano with haunting melancholy - before his thoughts inevitably turn to sex. ""Maybe on my piano," he whispers. Oh my. My whole body tightens at the thought. Piano. Wow." I kid you not.

The story is desperately thin: poorly written, repetitive in its descriptions (there is an almost unbelievable amount of eye-rolling and lip-biting - both offences that lead to a spanking), one dimensional characters, and it's frankly stupid. Nothing really happens: rich man woos innocent women; he shags her; he beats her; she wonders if she is doing the right thing. That's about it.

Apart from using orgasms as some kind of punctuation, the book also features unbelievably tedious e-mail exchanges between the two characters. After reading a couple of lines I found myself skipping the rest. They are just puerile. You are, I suppose, to take note of some of the subtleties of these conversations: his use of "shouty capitals" and the funny way that he signs himself "Christian Grey Palm-Twitching CEO" after he has given her a good spanking. Oh dear! So endearing.

At a risk of sounding repetitive myself, how many times do you think an author might use the expression "my inner goddess" in one book? Once or twice might suffice, but Ms James uses it 65 (yes, 65) times. Example:

"Ha! My inner goddess is thrilled. I can do this." (She manages to get the Impressive One into her mouth.)
"My inner goddess smacks her lips together glowing with pride." (He gives her an 'A' for swallowing.)
"... he looks at me hungrily. Jeez, my inner goddess swoons"; (He "squeezes carnality" into her name. At least that is one you can try at home.)
"My inner goddess polevaults over the fifteen-foot bar" (she didn't wear her panties when she meets his parents for dinner);
"My inner goddess is still basking in a remnant of post-coital glow. No - we are all clueless. I towel-dry my hair...".
By the end of the book I was ready to strangle the inner goddess and the external part too.

The book ends inconclusively. At first I thought that maybe the author had got bored with the whole thing and decided to pack it in. Then I discovered that there are two sequels. I also didn't realise until later that the book had originally been posted as fan-fiction. I don't pretend to know much about this, but I guess it may explain the lack of structure and the repetition. If you are turning out a couple of hundred words at a time for serialisation, maybe there is no imperative to write well.

As a piece of titillating light-hearted fun, this might keep you amused for a little while; but as a piece of literature worthy of the author making the hallowed interview seat on Woman's Hour, NO! It's awful.

There are hundreds of reviews here and people are clearly split into two camps: the 5 stars `loved it', and the 1 star `hated it'. I'm in the latter (forced to read this for a book group). But for all the leaden, wooden, repetitive, frequently juvenile-sounding prose, and the profoundly unerotic sex scenes, this book is so awful that it's brilliant... in an unintentional kind of way.

Read aloud in the pub over a bottle or two, this provided hours of fun as our `heroine' took one look at Christian Grey's gray eyes (yes, really) and his messy hair, and the way his trousers hang "in that way" (what way?) and literally falls flat on her face in front of him. Clearly smitten by her cute innocence, Christian of the grey eyes, sculptured lips, and spicy scent is soon whipping out his little "foil packets", his riding crops and hand-cuffs, and giving our previously-virginal Ana multiple and seemingly instantaneous orgasms, all of which are "shattering".

We particularly enjoyed the way Christian manages most of his sexual exploits either fully-dressed (just a quick unzipping and a coy fiddle with a "foil packet") or with his shirt (always white linen) still on, while Ana bit her lip, and breathed `oh my!' for the umpteenth time.

So, really, this IS as bad as people say - but for barely more than two quid it managed to provide hours of derisive laughter.

I arrived home early once day (not a euphemism) and found my devious wife Mildred reading this, when I saw the title I assumed that it was a book about use of shading in art. I became curious as after some research, I became aware that there are only actually 12 shades of grey that are readily acknowledged but the British Art Council (13 if you know the secret hand shake). I wondered where the other 37 came from, some sort of secret colour palette? I demanded answers! (slams fist on desk)

I approached my local book-vendor who angrily explained the book's premise, I pretended to faint in the shop to make it clear that I disapproved.

Me and the freshly irate book-vendor waited in the bushes outside my front door for Mildred to arrive home. When we saw her slowly approaching the door, sweating from the slight gradient, we pounced out like coiled chimps and pelted her with witty insults, phlegm and some leftover quiche I found in the fridge. Whilst Mildred desperately tried to counter our witty insults, the book vendor stunned her with a well aimed quiche slice to the face. Smelling the nutty stench of victory, I sprung, wrestled the book from the clutches of her sausage fingers and scurried into the woods to read it.

*Spoiler Alert* - This book is terrible

I read the first few chapters and quickly realised that this was garbage (of the spurious variety). The characters were more wooden than the contents of Mr Greys bulging pants and the endless descriptions of the man's appearance are over the top and seem to be based entirely on retro-hunk Daniel Bedingfield.
Ana's 'Inner Goddess' appears to a combination of indigestion and an undiagnosed personality disorder, the inner goddess also appears to be preparing for the Olympics, it spends its days either swooning or pole vaulting - im assuming this is practise to avoid being violently jabbed by Mr Grey's 'impressive length'.

Mr Grey manages to woo Ana by stalking her and giving her menacing looks like a pervert Dracula, whilst constantly mentioning how rich he is - "Did I mention that my car has an owl sanctuary in the back seat?". His obvious evilness becomes irrelevant when he plays his piano (not a euphemism) in the buff, with not a worry about leaving hairs or skid marks on the stool.

I don't consider myself to be a woman - the opposite in fact - but I doubt any real woman would be seduced by a man hiding in their bins muttering something about his holiday in Barbados.

My blood boiled when I saw the word 'jeez' I thought Screech from Saved by the Bell had joined the book to give Ana a seeing to.

I assume Mr Grey's enjoyment of violent coitus actually stems from finding (as I do) Ana completely unbearable and filling with rage every time she repeats a Screech-ism. Im assuming it started after she shouted 'Zoikers!' in a high pitched hilarious voice.

The authors over-use of the word 'length' is unsettling and makes me wonder if she is desperately trying to compensation for her husbands chronic lack of inches.

Mr grey's novelty over-sized appendage isn't the only unbelievable point in the book. Mr Grey seems to be able to hear Ana's internal monologues (not a euphemism) after their coitus and make a humorous and relevant quip. Ana never seems to question his mind reading ability, although this would have been an exciting sub plot to explore but im sure it would end up with him rubbing himself against everything in sight.

Mr Grey's character is 1 dimensional. He seems to be a human form of a dog in heat and seems to struggle to hold a conversation without trying to impregnate something. Its a stretch to believe this man could a self made millionaire when his belt spends more time round his ankles than his waist.

Im sure by the third book (yes theres 3!) he will have settled down together - only after his thrust-heavy life style has been cut short by the inevitable arthritis of the hip.

This is a landmark piece of literature: not just the fastest book ever sold in the UK, but conclusive evidence that you are allowed to steal somebody else's novel, take out the only element that made the original bearable,add a bit of middle-age-fantasy S&M; and hit the "replace" key for all names, and inexplicably not get sued for it.

There is nothing good about this book. At least with Twilight it had the excuse of being aimed at teenagers who couldn't be expected to know that a) it had been done before and b) it wasn't very good: this is being purchased by grown up ADULTS, and I'm ashamed to say I'm now one of them. It's not just offensive to erotic novels, it's offensive to men, women, sex, England, America and literature. Which is, if you look at it in a positive light, quite a massive achievement with just a few bits of paper.

In terms of basic writing, it's unbearable. Worse, it tries so hard to drag itself into an intelligent arena by name-dropping - repeatedly - real literature: Austen, Bronte, Hardy, Shakespeare. At one point I literally found myself screaming "GET YOUR DIRTY LITTLE HANDS OFF THOMAS HARDY, JAMES", because frankly crap of this standard has no right whatsoever trying to claw its way out of the literary swamp by quoting sections of Tess of the D'Urbervilles and comparing its protagonist to one of the most fragile, brave, three dimensional heroines ever written.

Ah, Ana Steele. It didn't seem possible that there would ever be a lead female character as boring, constantly tremulous or silly as Bella Swann, but James has done a magnificent job: Ana Steele is even worse. For all of their love of "classic British fiction", both James and Ana seem to be missing the key to their success: classics have real women, with believable and likeable personalities. Not lip-biting, slightly schizophrenic, weak and consantly-orgasmic hussies. Put Ana Steele into any Austen book, and she'd be the one-legged prostitute the other characters try not to step on on their way to parties.

The epynonymous Christian Grey is without exception the creepiest male character I've ever read, and I want him out of my imagination RIGHT NOW. Stalking, obsessive, possessive, controlling, humourless men like Grey are not sexy: they're the subject of court cases and restraining orders. This isn't a triumph of representation, by the way: if James was aiming for skin-crawling repulsion, at least she'd be succeeding somewhere. But Christian Grey - despite being a man who gasps nearly as regularly as Ana - is supposed to be an Alpha Male, because apparently strong men don't take "no" for an answer.

I WISH I was offended by the sex scenes. I WISH I could throw it across the room, decide that the world's taste in literature is too horny for me, and simply pat myself on the back for being an uptight prude. But I'm all up for sex in books, as long as it's done well: this is not. It's as bad as a grainy porn film from the 80s, and as old-fashioned.

What makes me sad, really, is knowing that a book like this can make a woman like James rich, and take thousands and thousands of hours from the lives of people all over the world. What makes me even more sad is that I am one of them.

Save your money, save your soul, and - for the love of all things literary - just go buy Tess of the D'Urbervilles.

I gave into the hype (inserts shamed face ) or my inner goddess shouts to me 'holy crap!' Several of my friends who are adult intelligent women bought it so I thought I would give it a try. I made it to Chapter 10 when the mother arrives! Not literally of course - although the book is so full of unsubtle innuendo I began to wonder.
I was already skimming the terrible unrealistic sex chapters by then and was bored beyond belief. The characters have no depth at all. Ana wasn't sympathetic or kooky she was a mindless foolish character to be used by a dominant. Horrible.
In my teens I read more sophisticated Mills and Boon books. Angélique, the Marquise of the Angels by Sergeanne Golon is a masterpiece in comparison.
The worry is the awful dreadful dominant Christian. How on earth would any woman in her right mind find him attractive after the red room of pain or whatever it was ? She really should have ran for the hills.
I do get that women like a man to be protective, handsome and rich and a bit naughty in novels but Christian is alarming as all he seems to want is to get Ana to a point where she is ready to receive physical pain which will of course please him
But of course :(
How this passed as a romance staggers me. I have no idea what the author was hoping to achieve.
That's it no more of this utter tosh. I will not read it. I am so relieved to see other reviews giving it the thumbs down too.
Agree ~ don't waste your money

Truly awful! Avoid purely for the gratuitous use of the word 'panties' a word reserved for dirty old men. Erotica is the word used to describe this book - erotic it is not - its basically written in the style of porn mag literature (an oxymoron in itself). The sex in Birdsong by Sebastian Faulkes is erotic and beautiful. Fifty shades is not. The underlying idea of a young women who turns out to be a virgin - quel surprise!, meeting a charismatic, rich, beautiful man who wants to hurt and humiliate her to achieve sexual satisfaction is another example of violence against women moving insidiously into the mainstream. What's amazing to me is that the book is written by a woman, the literature is poor, it is purely the sex that's selling it. Save your money and buy something worth reading!

It makes me sick that the author of this utter tosh is raking in a fortune when there are genuinely talented authors out there who deserve it far more. Its repetitve, boring, drivel. Its not even titillating....using such statements as "he placed his finger on my sex".... he did what?! if i never hear about lip biting again itll be too soon and no, "laters baby" is not cool and should only be mentioned outside the pages of this utter rubbish on pain of death. The appalling writing aside....the storyline of the orgasmic responsive stunning 21 year old VIRGIN (say whaaaat) with the billionaire sexual predator with an obsession for bdsm turns my stomach a bit. its cliched junk and had i bought it in paper copy id have set it on fire whilst dancing around its burning embers, laughing manically.

Boring, predictable, unimaginative, unrealisitc and absolutely shockingly written!! Someone says 'read it with an open mind' which I can only assume means pretend that you have never read ANYTHING in your life so that this seems at least half decent. Save yourself the couple of quid and don't bother, it's not. I only bought it to see what all the fuss was about and there is none. I am only a thrid of the way through and I am just glad I can type as I am lost for words, even just one adjective to sum this up. I IMPLORE you NOT to buy this!! Or, if you must, through sheer curiosity, do what the 'most helpful' bad review says and laugh at it, drunk in a pub with some mates. And leave it on the table when you leave.......wish I could be more constructive, I would be if it deserved it!!