Last week, one of those most infamous books of our generation became a blockbuster. For the few who don’t know, Fifty Shades of Grey is a movie adaptation of a book that was originally a Twilight fanfic. Not to say anything bad of my beloved genre – fanfiction – but that isn’t a promising origin story for a novel.
Obviously, Fifty Shades is an easy target for tomato-throwing in the literary world, as was it’s spiritual predecessor Twilight. I’m sure you already know the various insults hurled at both. I can’t really argue – I’ve read excerpts of Fifty Shades and the writing is indeed terrible. I’m amazed that it became such a phenomenon when the romance/erotica/harlequin section of Barnes and Noble is packed floor-to-ceiling with similar, better written books. Was there not a book already published about BDSM with a rich bad boy? I can hardly believe that market was untapped (cue pun noise).
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