I am rarely interested in books by female writers, not because I was born a sexist or a chauvinist, but because they are normally intolerably boring. This mentality has been in my head for a long time, until recently, I put my hand on Fifty Shades of Grey, which has been touted as “mom’s porn” and it enjoys such astonishingly wide readership among women of all ages that people talk about it in magazines, on TV and radio.
Okey, I am probably only guy out there who does not mind being killed for being curious.
I normally promise myself something on finishing a boring book, such as a good meal. But this book is an exception. Because of my curiosity, I would like to deem myself properly motivated.
Another plus for the book. Here we go.
Chapter one. I swear if there is no porn on the first 20 pages, I will abandon the book. The beginning is not strong, kind of cliché, but acceptable. The main character in the book, let me call her A, is a student, sharing a room with another girl, K. K is supposed to interview a young CEO but she is conveniently sick on that day and has to ask A to do the job for her. If you are still confused, let me put it this way: A is replacing K to interview a CEO.
Perplexing enough, all the women in the book are young and beautiful, except for A who not only tends to trip over herself before handsome men, but also easily become ecstatic every several pages by uttering a “holy crap!” The repetition starts irritating me since very beginning. I wonder if she is getting high on merely saying it. If it can cast such spell power, maybe I will try it on the next woman I meet.
My curiosity is diminishing and I have to build on motivation part. I secretly promise myself I would eat a lobster if I can finish it.
Continue on, I read. The CEO in the book was obscenely rich and he is only in his twenties and dangerously handsome and smart. Nice! Huh? How could that be? Never mind, fantasy book. At this point, my mind has drifted away, not to a la-la land, but into a profound indignation against all the riches. I have to admit - let’s face it - there is nothing money cannot buy, no matter which way you are trying to spin it. That is why money (serious money) is always first thing coming into a romantic equation. The book is damn depressing for struggling new immigrants.
I made several trips to the kitchen to concoct myself some drinks. The lobster is still far away and I already doubt if I could reach that award. But the drinks are the small tokens for finishing Chapter one. One step at a time. Maybe the real good stuff is in Chapter two.
Chapter two.
For chapter two, I think I am better prepared. I fixed some drinks and a bag of popcorns, thus set my mood properly on reading.
Still no porn. The girl is still pathetically getting high on mere mentioning of the CEO and “holy cowed” throughout the Chapter two.
This is going to be tough to finish the whole book. I have emptied two bags of popcorns and I can safely predict that I would become a really fat man by the end of the book.
Have you experienced staring at one page without actually reading it? Yeah, that is me, day-dreaming. I tried different reading setups. On a bus, I have to cover half of the screen of IPad, in case someone behind me happening to read over my shoulder. That would be very embarrassing. He/she might laugh and tell others as a joke, “I just saw a guy reading Fifty Shades on the bus, the mom’s porn, you know, ha, ha, ha…”; in the park, with no one near me, I could read quietly, but come on, it is good place to read poems, no a porn.
I thumbed through chapter two, pretending I am reading it.
Chapter three. I pray: some porn please. The lobster is dangling farther and farther away from me. Does she know how to write porn? The book is intolerably boring.
Miserably, I finished chapter three without really knowing what was written in it. Both the story and language are bland. I have been massaging my head by plucking hairs and smashing my head to a wall to keep awake.
Chapter four. No porn.
Chapter five. Still no porn. For god’s sake, I am well over a hundred pages and there is no kissing, touching, cuddling – nothing.
That is it. I am truly pissed.
Now I am on my way to a supermarket to buy, not one, but two lobsters – not to celebrate finishing the book, on the contrary, but to celebrate not finishing it. Hooray, I will also throw in some King crab legs for giving up the book.
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