I'm going to admit to a shameful excess. I downloaded a "light porn" novel onto my Kindle after reading a review about it in Entertainment Weekly. And I haven't been able to put the book down. I spent all Sunday completely wrapped up in the first installment of E. L. James 50 Shades of Gray. And when I finished it, I downloaded the second and third novels in the trilogy. I'm about 60% finished with the second book -- and I would have finished it last night if at midnight I hadn't suddenly realized I only had four hours left in the night until I had to get dressed to be at school. Because spring break is over, darn it. And today my inner goddess is screaming in pain because I won't know until tonight if Ana and Christian are going to have S&M or vanilla sex in the Red Room of Pain or on the piano or in the shower or on the boat or on top of the bookcase . . .
Are the three novels literature? No. Are they dirty? Not really. The sex scenes are pretty much standard fare except they occur on every other page and at least three times every single day -- sometimes more. Are they believable? Not in any sense. A 21 year old college student who is virgin and never, ever touched herself -- and had no idea how? Ridiculous. A man who has multiple erections for every single sexual congress -- and can do this multiple times during a 24 hour period? There's only so much Viagra can do. A man who is so filthy rich he earns $100,000 every hour -- but has the time to have sex multiple times every day? His business would soon go belly-up.
But I'm hooked. I read and laugh. I enjoy the inner conversations Ana has with herself -- and the troubles she keeps encountering. I have just at tiny crush on Mr. Gray (of the title) -- and it reminds me a little of how I felt about Hubby when I first met him way back there in 1972. So I keep reading. And reading. And reading. And enjoying nearly every minute of my time spent wallowing in this pulp fiction.