So. I caved in. And downloaded Fifty Shades of Gray on my Kindle. I blame this on the August issue of Cosmopolitan and their Fifty Shades of Blonde, which, by the way, is much better written.
I lasted until after the first sex scene (I admit it, that was why I bought it) and then I just couldn’t. The. Language. Completely. Turned. Me. Off. And the characters. Are you kidding me? How someone can read this and call it amazing is a big mystery.
Go read Anaïs Nin instead. Or the Story of O by Pauline Rèage and Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. Even Marquis de Sade wrote better. Crash by J.G. Ballard is my personal favourite.