This book for the weekend is a classic in every sense: Well-reviewed, well-remembered and well-thought of.
I, of course, am referring to the seminal novel, Fifty Shades of Grey. Fifty Shades of Grey is considered by some to be the Bible of erotic novels, except Mary isn’t a virgin in this one — the sounds and images of mind-blowing and sexy sex-ing are splattered throughout the pages like parts of me.
Telling the story of a happy, healthy young couple in a happy, healthy relationship, the book explores the boundaries of human sexuality in a realistic and touching manner.
You may look at the book and think “it’s so big!” but the 512 pages can fly by in a weekend. It complements its length with girth, quotes such as “I pull him deeper into my mouth so I can feel him at the back of my throat and then to the front again. My tongue swirls around the end. He’s my very own Christian Grey-flavored popsicle. I suck harder and harder … Hmm … My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.”
Arousing and charming with its raw emotion and sexuality, the pages of the book reveal the difficulties of being raised in a cycle of drug abuse that the well-hung character James Grey was raised in: “‘The woman who brought me into this world was a crack whore, Anastasia …’ I slip into a dazed and exhausted sleep, dreaming of a four-year-old gray-eyed boy in a dark, scary, miserable place.’”
What truly makes this into a masterpiece is its staying power. Its core themes of a healthy, controlling erotic relationship are simply timeless and relatable to non-sociopaths. The intelligence of the writing and symbolism make this book into a must-read masterpiece for you weekend readers.
Just kidding, this piece of shit should only be used as a paperweight.