Fifty Shades of Annoyance

For my 32nd birthday, my husband bought me the Fifty Shades trilogy. So, I read Fifty Shades of Gray and Fifty Shades Darker and liked them both, but then I got to Fifty Shades Freed and, to be honest, I am still on it. I got through the first few chapters, and that was about it. The little pebbles of annoyance that I saw passed in the first two books grew to the size of a boulder in book three.

 

Not every word was bad, don't get me wrong. During the first two books, I appreciated the highly imaginative descriptions and interactions, even though they were mostly sexual. I also liked that it was reminiscent of Pretty Woman, with a rich businessman falling in love with a quirky female who needs to find her way. The Christian Grey is jealous, has control issues and has sex with Anastasia Steele on a piano, so I saw an obvious Pretty Woman likeness. I mean, she even wears a grey tie for him ... really?

Now, those pebbles that I was talking about, yes, they exist and I will list them for you. First, the whole thing is unrealistic, especially Christian Grey's salary. I calculated that he would make $208 million a year or more, by making $100K an hour with added investments. That seems a little crazy. Second, I disliked how she mentioned his frown or his "straight-lipped smile" every other page. We get it, he makes facial expressions. He is a human being with full musculoskeletal control of his face. Got it. Also, it's annoying that Anastasia personifies her subconscious and has it wearing "Burberry" with its "arms crossed." What? That's just silly. And the final thing that had me saying, "Enough already," was the sex. They have SO much sex. On a bed. In a car. In the torture chamber (that's what I call it). In the bathtub. On the bathroom floor. I mean, it is A LOT. This is an erotic novel, so I understand that there has to be sex and plenty of it, but with all of this sex, someone should have a UTI by now or even a yeast infection. Sorry to go there, but it's true.

So, Fifty Shades Freed is on my nightstand collecting dust because Anastasia Steele and E.L. James are like my husband's snoring: OK in small spurts, but really annoying when it doesn't stop. E.L. you were alright at two books or you could have just killed off Ana in book three. Just saying.