Well, after yet another hiatus – this time down to actually moving house, as opposed to packing for it, and rubbish internet providers – I am finally back online. In my time away, I’ve been increasingly made aware of a series of books that have recently exploded onto the literary scene, Fifty Shades by E. L. James. I first heard about these books when a friend asked me if I had read them, and I replied in the negative – though not before doing a quick Google and discovering that the main focus of the series seems to be the high level of hanky-panky. I must admit, I was intrigued at first, but I have since come to the decision that, for the time being at least, I am not going to be reading this series – the reasons for which I will now wax lyrical on.
Firstly - and I'm just going to put this out there, this is a bit of a silly reason – I’m being stubborn, and not wanting to bow to peer pressure. Everyone under the sun seems to be reading these books, or talking about these books, and whilst I think it’s brilliant that people are talking about literature, I’ve simply heard ‘you’ve GOT to read them!’ from so many people that actually, no, I don’t think I have GOT to read them, and I don’t think I will either. I very nearly caved in last week, and actually went so far as to walk into a shop to try and purchase a copy of the first book, but when I couldn’t immediately see it, I gave up and had a browse and found something else; The Damned Busters, by Matthew Hughes, which actually turned out to be a spot-on choice for me (it’s about a less-than-heroic type of bloke accidentally causing Hell to go on strike, needing to get Hell back to work and consequently becoming a superhero out of it with a demon for a sidekick. Awesome). I think the mere fact that I went in to find a book, barely even looked for it, and then bought, basically, the antithesis to the Fifty Shades trilogy is probably indicative that, sometimes, you shouldn't try to force yourself to like something just because you've been told to (there's a lesson in there somewhere, kids).
Just for the record - I wish E L James all the luck in the world; she's done what I'd love to do, which is get herself published, and fair play to her, she's evidently tapped the market previously dominated by Jilly Cooper and Mills and Boon, which is no mean feat. I just don't think poorly written 'mummy-porn' is for me.