This is the kind of book people love if they can't read anything longer than a Slim Fast nutrition label without getting bored.
This book is badly written, has terrible characters, and does not live up to its hype in any way. It is a confused romance novel for women who have never grown up and want to read something "edgy" and "exciting" before drifting off to sleep on their Justin Bieber pillow case.
If you read Fifty Shakes of Dray (or whatever) looking for smut, you will find it. But it's probably not the type you're looking for unless you are one of the above mentioned Bieber case owners. If you read it in the hopes of being outraged because in this day of modern, feminist, blah, blah, blah, you will probably be disappointed. Because Anastasia Steele is not a heroine who trades her self-respect for being kicked around by some jerk. I'm pretty sure she's a member of the Babysitters' Club who happened to wander into the wrong book and was too "klutzy" (read Bella Swann clone) to find her way back out.
I gave it two stars rather than one because I never actually threw the book across the room in frustration or yelled at the author while reading it.
I'm glad I read it to see what all the fuss is about, but I was expecting something at least marginally better. I don't know why. It seems that most of the time a book is popular with the masses, I end up being very disappointed in the taste my fellow human beings have in reading material.
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