Despite it outselling Harry Potter and receiving huge amounts of praise for liberating women who enjoy reading on the tube, I am half way through this book and am so far failing to appreciate what it has to offer.
Firstly, I am confused by what message Mrs James is attempting to give to the apparently huge numbers of deprived female souls around the world. The main character is becoming more confident because of a man whom she is submissive to. I'm not one for feminism but I don't particularly feel that this is doing much sisterhood. Secondly, I feel the author is channeling her own perhaps younger awkward self which makes me feel uncomfortable for the sake of her husband who the book is dedicated to at the beginning. Who am I to judge though perhaps she has installed a red room underneath her house and will be appearing on Grand Designs shortly as Kevin McCloud quakes in his work boots.
Thirdly, whilst I do recognise how gloriously emancipated women who read this book on public transport now are, my friend was sat next to someone the other day who had covered the book cover in wrapping paper. If everyone's so incredibly desperate to read about boring Anastacia's escapades, as she suddenly becomes exciting because she is dominated by a man with mummy issues then why they don't just watch porn, instead of having to grit their teeth through what is largely a poorly written drivel ridden book. One which only gets exciting when the author lives vicariously through a parallel unborn version of herself.