CIRCE by Madeline Miller (2018)

"As it turned out, I did kill pigs that night after all."

THIS REVIEW IS SPOILER FREE

The first book I reviewed on this blog was The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. Since adoring that novel, I will read anything Miller writes, and given her significance to this blog, it feels fitting to review anything she writes, too. Miller’s second novel, Circe, came out earlier this year. Daughter of Helios, titan of the sun, and Perse, an Oceanid nymph, Circe is born without any notable power, but as she grows up, she discovers a hidden talent: sorcery. Her forbidden power draws the attention of Lord Zeus, and to maintain peace, Helios banishes Circe to the island of Aiaia, where she is to live out her eternity in exile. Poetic, savage, and captivating, Circe is a powerful story about a woman reclaiming control over her story and learning the value of her own independence -- and the cost of defending it.

Circe is not the most memorable figure in Greek mythology; she tends to be a footnote in the stories of greater heroes. This makes it seem like there wouldn’t be much to work with, but Circe’s involvement in the stories of more famous heroes gives her an interesting perspective. That, it seems, is Miller’s specialty; providing new perspectives on familiar stories. As a fan of Greek mythology, Circe’s connection to other ancient tales is so rewarding to read; I love the way all the different heroes weave around her. Some of the heroes she encounters include Daedalus, the great inventor and father to Icarus; Jason, captain of the Argo and retriever of the Golden Fleece; Medea, Jason’s sorceress wife who murders both of their sons when Jason leaves her for another princess; and Odysseus, star of Homer’s Odyssey and one of the best known Greeks of all time. Circe’s perspective of these heroes is so unique, and she also tended to encounter them before they achieved their fame/infamy, which gives readers like me, familiar with ancient Greek history, a sense of foreboding. We know what is in store for these heroes, and that third person omniscience made the novel dynamic and intimate, especially since it is told in hindsight. As Circe is telling the story in retrospect, she knows what is going to happen to the heroes, and because the reader has this in common with her, a bittersweet kinship is developed.

Another way in which Miller warps perspective is by making Circe the protagonist. There are no surviving epics from ancient times in which Circe is the main character, and to my knowledge, no contemporary stories focus solely on her, either. She is generally depicted as an antagonist, which is unsurprising; witchcraft was forbidden to the gods, so she did literally antagonise the characters of ancient epics. Circe, however, is a first look into Circe’s side of the story. I’m unsure how much liberty Miller took when writing, but because ancient stories have so many interpretations, I’m prepared to overlook any possible inaccuracies. Circe’s side of the story was so compelling. Several reviews I’ve read call Circe a feminist retelling, and it absolutely is one, not just in terms of the content or themes but also because of the agency Circe receives over her own story. This novel made me the same kind of sad that I am when I read about the conditions women lived with during ancient times. Being a Classics student in high school was a constant struggle between interest in the history of ancient empires and fury about the appalling treatment of women in those times; it’s all so frustrating and heart-breaking to read, especially knowing that the same ignorance is still practised in so many countries today. Circe is a feminist retelling because it is powered by that same anger. When she is mocked, ridiculed, abused, underestimated, and undermined all because she is a woman, Circe fights back with a lack of mercy that I can’t help but respect, and reading about the ordeals that influenced her most infamous actions (i.e. turning all of Odysseus’ men into swine) made her empathetic in a way she has never been allowed to be.

A review in The Independent reminded me of the novel’s most poetic line: how would the songs frame the scene? It’s a nod to the source material from which Miller drew inspiration -- namely, Homer’s Odyssey -- and also a self-aware question on Circe’s behalf. How would the bards write each moment of Circe’s life? How would they represent her choices? Circe is “well aware of the narrative control others exert over her life”, and Miller is aware of it, too, so Circe is the story of the titular character reclaiming control over her own narrative. It’s a thrilling position for the novel to assume, and an empowering one, too. My favourite books are those with narrative and thematic arcs that reflect each other, and Circe is a lovely example: Circe the character is regaining control over the people who have dared dictate the course of her life, and Circe the mythological figure is regaining control over the way in which people retell her story. It makes the novel powerful and unique. Miller is probing a part of history that has rarely been touched by other writers, ancient or contemporary. Of course, it’s fiction, so she can really do whatever she likes, but I thought it was daring for Miller to reimagine Circe in such a radical way, to take a character so insignificant in the grand scheme of heroes and villains and thrust her into the spotlight. Circe is a bitter protagonist, hardened by what she has gone through and what she has lost, but it makes her wonderfully honest. Her perspective is so refreshing, and it emphasises the gorier parts of ancient epics that bards like Homer ignored and excused.

Circe is an inquisition, a revolution, but more than anything, it is a chance for a sideline character to tell their story. We’re starting to see this kind of thing more often in modern fiction -- Twilight retold from Edward’s perspective, Fifty Shades of Grey told from Christian’s point of view, Divergent told by whatever character Dave Franco’s doppelgänger played, all that crap -- but Miller’s attempt is so much more successful, and not only because we barely asked for Bella’s opinion on the matter, so Edward’s was hardly necessary. At once ruefully bitter and hesitantly optimistic, Circe is a sweeping success, an exquisitely rendered story that holds history accountable and empowers the women swept under its ancient rug.

WORKS CITED

Scholes, L. (2018, April 20). New novel Circe turns the Odyssey from an ancient tale of female subjugation into one of empowerment. Retrieved December 12, 2018, from https://tinyurl.com/ya7ryzem.

NEW MOON by Stephenie Meyer (2006)

"Once you cared about a person, it was impossible to be logical about them anymore."

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS

When I made the decision to read Twilight two years ago, I didn’t predict that one book would turn into a seven-part series in which I criticise not only every Twilight book, but also the entire Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. And yet, here I am, introducing my third instalment in that series: my review of New Moon, book two in Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight saga, and I’m happy to report that it manages to be even worse than Twilight, which really is an achievement in itself.  

A lot of the problems I have with Twilight continue in New Moon: the plot is empty until the last quarter, the book takes itself far too seriously, Bella continues to be so clumsy that she has to go to the emergency room five times a week, yadda yadda, you get the picture. It’s what I’m gradually coming to expect from Stephenie Meyer, so I’m no longer surprised by it. However, Twilight and New Moon have one major difference between them: in New Moon, Edward leaves, and Jacob Black fills his place.

Having general access to an internet connection, I knew that the Bella-Edward-Jacob love triangle was coming. What I wasn’t expecting, however, was for Edward to literally up and leave in New Moon. He departs on page 74, and doesn’t return for another 300 pages. Hallelujah! Given that Edward is one of my least favourite characters to have ever been written, I was pretty pleased with this development.

And then Jacob happened.

Where do I begin with Jacob Black? He is so awful that he made me miss Edward. He is so annoying and corny and douchey that it made me want to rip my hair out. He’s supposed to be this charming, funny guy, someone who’s easy to be around, someone who can give Bella a normal life, someone whose affections for Bella will challenge her unconditional love for Edward and make her question whether or not Edward is worth it. And he does do all these things. Meyer makes it clear in Twilight that Jacob has the hots for Bella, so it makes sense that with Edward temporarily out of the picture, Jacob starts putting the moves on Bella. It still weirds me out that she’s a legal adult and he’s only just 16, but the age of consent in Washington state is 16, so whatever, it’s not weird, he’s still technically a child and she’s still technically an adult but whatever it’s cool I’m not grossed out at all. The thing that really disturbs me about Jacob’s interest in Bella – and yes, of course there’s about to be a feminist angle, what else did you expect? — is the fact that he never gives up.

There’s something to be said about persistence in romance. Under the right circumstances, the whole asking-them-out-fifty-times-in-a-row-until-they-finally-agree thing can be perceived as romantic; it can make a person feel really special. Under the wrong circumstances, though, it’s annoying, frustrating, stressful, and even scary. To quote How I Met Your Mother, "if both people are into each other, then a big romantic gesture works, but if one person isn't into the other, the same gesture comes off serial-killer crazy". I don’t think Meyer was aiming for serial-killer crazy when she wrote Jacob Black, but he’s certainly closer to the creepier end of the spectrum. A third of the way through the book, he tags along to a movie with Bella and her friend Mike, another boy who is inexplicably in love with Bella in spite of her complete lack of personality. And then this happens:

I joined [Jacob] with a sigh. He looked like he was thinking about blurring more lines. Sure enough, as soon as I sat down, he shifted over to put his arm around my shoulders.

“Jake,” I protested, leaning away. He dropped his arm, not looking bothered by the minor rejection. He reached out and took my hand firmly, wrapping his other hand around my wrist when I tried to pull away again (p.186).

She doesn’t want him getting handsy with her and tells him to stop, so he responds by continuing to do it anyway, and then using his superior strength to overpower her when she tries to move away. And I haven’t even gotten to the worst of it yet. Jacob speaks first:

“You like me, right?”

“You know I do.”

“Better than any of the other guys you know?”

“Better than the girls, too,” I pointed out.

“But that’s all,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He grinned down at me. “That’s okay, you know. As long as you like me the best [...] I’m prepared to be annoyingly persistent” (p.187).

Bella has consistently implied that she isn’t interested in Jacob romantically, that she has never seen him as anything more than a friend, and, what’s more, that she is still in love with someone else. Jacob knows all of this, but he refuses to accept it. He is willing to take no for an answer in the short term because he believes that if he keeps pestering her, he will eventually wear her down until she agrees to date him. My least favourite line during this exchange is below:

“But don’t get mad at me for hanging around, okay? Because I’m not giving up. I’ve got loads of time” (p.187).

That’s Jacob, proving that he is too dense to take a hint and that he doesn’t care about Bella’s boundaries or what she feels and wants. He is perfectly content to wait until she is so fed up with him fawning over her that she just caves in. So perhaps persistence, in some situations, is romantic, but in Jacob’s, it really is not. All he’s demonstrating is that he doesn’t actually care about Bella at all. He sees her as an object, a prize to be won.

The best part of having finished New Moon, apart from having finally exited the ninth circle of hell and being free from the crucible of Jacob’s weird, old-man sense of humour, is the fact that I have no idea what to expect from Eclipse. I’ve never read it, I’ve never seen the movie; I don’t have even a vague sense of what the plot might look like, because I tipped every moment of New Moon out of my head the second I closed the final page. I’m heading into uncharted territory, and it thrills me. If New Moon was so terrible that it somehow made me Team Edward, what sort of apocalypse is Eclipse going to bring?

ALWAYS AND FOREVER, LARA JEAN by Jenny Han (2017)

“Is this how it goes? You fall in love, and nothing seems truly scary anymore, and life is one big possibility?”

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS

When I first read To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, I thought it was vile. I should have loved it -- nerdy Asian-American girl pretends to date douchey jock and they end up falling in love? That should be right up my alley! Unfortunately, I found it so revolting that I gave up after 100 pages. There’s cutesy, and then there’s nauseating, and that book falls into the second category. However, after discovering the audiobook in July, I decided to give All the Boys and its two sisters another shot. I tend to find unlikeable books more palatable on audio, and with the movie adaptation due in August, I didn’t see the harm in having another go. Honestly, I nearly gave up again. I listened to the whole trilogy on audio, which is the only reason I was able to soldier through it: they’re all only eight hours long, and I listened to them all on double speed. Book one, To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, was vapid, cringe-worthy, and childish, just as I remembered. Book two, P.S. I Still Love You, had marginally better character development, but basically no plot. Book three, however?

Team, I am IN MY FEELINGS about book three.

In Always and Forever, Lara Jean, Lara Jean Covey is now a senior in high school. Her boyfriend, Peter Kavinsky, was accepted into UVA, their shared first-choice college, and Lara Jean awaits the notification that she has also been accepted. This book is just as cheesy as usual, but it manages to pass off this gooeyness as charming and endearing, and to my surprise, I actually really loved it.

In a stunning turn of events, I was able to stand Lara Jean in this book. I found her unbelievably annoying in the first two books, but she matured in Always and Forever, and I felt awful for her when she was rejected from UVA. I reached the part where she receives her rejection letter at the gym, and you can bet this bitch teared up on the treadmill. Lara Jean now has to choose between William and Mary, a safety school that’s closer to Peter but she isn’t passionate about, and UNC, a college three hours away that actually excites her. This dilemma represents a complicated issue that’s often unfairly simplified. Feminism tends to dictate that a woman should never let a man get in the way of her education or career, but I don’t think it’s that simple. I don't think it's anti-feminist to want a good education and a long-term relationship. I don't think it's disempowering for your boyfriend to be just as important to you as your education. Although I absolutely think that men need to be held accountable for the shittiness that connotes their gender, and will always tell a heartbroken friend that men are the worst to make her feel better, it distresses me when this ‘accountability’ morphs into man-hating and criticising women for valuing their boyfriend the same amount that they value their career or their education. Always and Forever doesn’t take a hard stance either way. Lara Jean doesn’t say “screw you” to Peter and skip off to the better school, nor does she meekly accept the inferior school because she’s afraid of losing Peter. The story encourages Lara Jean’s independence, but it also celebrates how important her relationship is to her, and in my opinion, this made the book unique.

Moving on to everyone’s dream boy, Peter Kavinsky. Peter is such a sweetheart, and it’s a shame that it took two books for this to become fully apparent. Young adult romance has a disturbing surplus of broody, emotionally distant guys who justify treating their girlfriends like shit because they’re ‘wounded’ and ‘damaged’. I’m sick of that trope. It encourages women to settle for men who won’t provide for them emotionally, and it encourages men to repress their emotions so they’ll seem more masculine. What I love about Peter is that he doesn’t worry about being super masculine, even though he’s a jock who got into college on a sports scholarship. He is so honest when he expresses his feelings for Lara Jean, and I thought it was refreshing, especially considering that he’s only 18 and teenage boys are typically easier victims of toxic masculinity. I saw a meme on Instagram to this effect:

Guy 1: hang out tonight?

Guy 2: can't i'm with my girl

Guy 1: what about bros before hoes?

Guy 2: she's not a hoe she's my girl

This dumb meme sums up Peter K to a T. His love for Lara Jean is so endearing. He cares about her deeply. He considers her one of his best friends. I love healthy romances, and this is a really good example of one. It was nice to read a relationship where the girl wasn’t more into it than the guy, or the guy was too cool to show affection. Peter just loves Lara Jean. He treats her like she is important to him no matter who is watching, and I think that’s valuable for the audience at whom this book is targeted.

Even though I hated it, when I finished the audiobook of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, I felt strangely compelled to continue the series. I’m glad I gave it that chance. I had to suffer through two terrible books to get to a great one, but that great one is probably going to be one of my favourites of the year, which I never thought I would say about a book in which the main character is Lara Jean Covey. Now, I could just confess that the main reason why I like this book is because it’s really cute. That’s a perfectly valid reason to like a book. However, a friend recently told me that she only reads non-fiction because young adult doesn’t challenge her, and while this is also a perfectly valid preference, I obviously thought I was being personally attacked and now feel the need to defend my love of YA. (It’s because I’m a Libra. I love to be offended by everything.)

THE RAVEN CYCLE by Maggie Stiefvater (2012-2016)

“In that moment, Blue was a little in love with all of them.
Their magic. Their quest. Their awfulness and strangeness.
Her raven boys.” - The Dream Thieves

THIS REVIEW IS SPOILER-FREE

A funny story about this series: when I first tried to read it several years ago, I found it so boring that I couldn’t get past the prologue of the first book. In April of 2018, however, I decided to give the series another try. I had recently discovered the wonderful world of audiobooks and was hunting for recommendations, so when I came across someone talking about how much they enjoyed The Raven Cycle on audio, I thought to myself, screw it. It’s an extremely popular book series, so it must have some redeeming qualities, and perhaps listening to it on audio would make it more palatable.

More palatable indeed; I listened to all four audiobooks back to back. This urban fantasy quadrilogy follows a seventeen-year-old girl named Blue Sargent, the only non-psychic in a family of psychics, and the four prep school boys she befriends. Adam Parrish, Ronan Lynch, Noah Czerny, and Richard Campbell Gansey III are on a mission to recover an ancient king named Owen Glendower, as it has been prophesied that Glendower will grant a favour to whomever finds him first. Blue begins to fall for one of the boys, but she has a secret: all her life, every psychic she has ever met has told her that if she kisses her true love, he will die. Without a doubt, The Raven Cycle is now one of my all-time favourite series’, and I’d like to try to compact some of the overwhelming love I feel for these books into words, because I feel dangerously close to overflowing with it.

We begin with The Raven Boys, which is one of my favourite books in the series. The thing that amazed me about this book is how well it reads as a standalone. It’s the expository novel of a four-part series, yet it is also a perfectly well-rounded story in its own right; it could easily hold itself up as a standalone novel, which speaks to the quality of the storytelling. I thought I grew out of my ‘calling fictional characters my children’ phase at least a year ago, but then I read this book and realised that my paternal instincts had merely gone dormant. The characters in this book make my heart sing. I love Blue Sargent, five feet of indignation and feminist outrage. I love Gansey and his stupid, pompous, enormously generous heart. I love Noah and the fact that the only adjective ever used to describe him is ‘smudgy’. I love Adam, so gentle yet so troubled, straddling the line between admirably unyielding and stupidly stubborn. To be honest, I could care less about Ronan, but I still love that he’s such a tortured badass who is also fiercely protective of the baby raven he raises as his own, and that he named that baby raven ‘Chainsaw’, because that is hilarious. I also love Maggie Stiefvater. Maggie’s distinct and unique writing style is perfect for the atmosphere of this story; I’ve never read a story and a writing style that fit together so well. As a result, this was an incredibly immersive read for me. The mystical quality of Maggie’s writing and the magical elements of the story -- psychics and tarotology, ghosts and ancient kings, ley lines and dreams brought to life -- melded together in such a natural way that it was often difficult to remember that I was just reading a book, not experiencing a whole new life in Henrietta, Virginia. What I’m trying to say is that the writing style and the story itself go together so well that you don’t notice that you’re reading something that someone has written; you just feel like you’re in the world, standing next to the characters as they talk to one another, which is why it was so easy for me to become so invested in them.

Next up was The Dream Thieves. This book is kind of the Order of the Phoenix of the The Raven Cycle series, in that everyone was really moody and angry all the time. Unfortunately, this ended up being my least favourite book in the series for two reasons. The first: Ronan is my least favourite character, and a large portion of this book takes place from his point of view. The second: as I realised while reading this book, I don’t like reading dream sequences, and this book is literally called The Dream Thieves, so there are a lot of dream sequences. I find it really boring when people describe their dreams to me, and at least seventy pages of this book is Ronan describing his dreams to the reader. Although Ronan’s dreams are a major part of the story and the world-building, for me, the book really dragged whenever they came up. I also found the story less compelling in this book, and there were long stretches of repetitive action that I just didn’t find that interesting. However, I’ll be the first to admit that I was impressed by how well this book also holds it own as an isolated story, even more so than with book one. Often, the middle book in a series isn’t as good as the first and last ones; so many sequels just become filler, but The Dream Thieves definitely isn’t just filler. Even though I didn’t love the plot, I can still recognise that it is fully fleshed out.

After not enjoying The Dream Thieves that much, it was a relief to love Blue Lily, Lily Blue just as much as I loved The Raven Boys. It’s slower than the previous books and not as much action takes place, but the characters are explored in much more detail and depth in this edition, and as someone who prefers character-driven stories, I adored this change. Blue Lily, Lily Blue reads as more of a sequel than The Dream Thieves did. It definitely feels like a book between two books, a middle child of sorts, but I think that this gave it character as opposed to making it feel like a stepping stone between more important narratives. Because this book was slower and less focused on driving the plot forward, the characters were really able to come into their own, examining facets of themselves and their relationships that were put on the backburner in the preceding stories. The mood and tone of the book match this theme, and I think that the characters reflect it, too; they seem grateful for this pause in the pace, for this chance to breathe and settle in their waters after being shaken so much by the action in books one and two. I love the characters in this series so much, but I especially loved Blue in this book; she is such a tiny badass, and I am all about her feminist agenda and her diet consisting exclusively of yoghurt.

I had high expectations for The Raven King, and unfortunately, they were not met. It’s a shame, because this book had so much potential after the slow-burn of the book before it, but as a conclusion to the series, I found it pretty lacking. The plot felt weak and convoluted in places, and honestly, at some points, I was bored. I also felt that Maggie’s writing style became a bit repetitive. It remained just as well-matched to the story, but I started to find the whimsy of it tedious. My main concern, however, is that this book kind of wraps things up a little too conveniently for my liking. I can’t say much because I want to keep this review spoiler-free, but I think this book suffers from having been overhyped by the other books in the series. The stakes had been build up so much, but it felt like Maggie was afraid to take the steps necessary to carry out the realistic trajectory of the story. As a result, the resolution lost its emotional impact, because these high stakes we had been anticipating for three entire novels didn’t end up going anywhere. It was just too comfortable. The reader isn’t always supposed to get what they want out of a story, and The Raven King felt like fan service taken too far, to the detriment of the story. Luckily, this book didn’t take away from my overall enjoyment of the series; I was just underwhelmed by it as a conclusion.

Sometimes you read a book, and realise that you are reading it at the absolute perfect time in your life. It’s happened to me only a few times before, and if I can get away with a little hopeless romanticism, I’d like to hypothesise that this is what happened with The Raven Cycle series. It’s been years since I last felt as emotionally awakened as I did while reading this. Although it has its flaws, it is still a gorgeously written, compelling story with richly textured characters whom I love and adore with all my heart, and if it sounds in any way like something you might be interested in reading, I urge you to do so. And persevere. Don’t give up on this series like I did the first time I tried to read it. Sometimes I wish I had persevered that first time around, but I’m also glad that I didn’t, because I really do feel that I read this series at the perfect time in my life. It’s incredibly meaningful to me, and I hope you’ll like it too.

FIFTY SHADES OF GREY by EL James (2012)

"This man is insatiable, or maybe all men are like him. I have no idea, no one to compare him to." 

Me: This book has to be a satire.

Daphne: If it's a satire, no one gets the joke.

THIS REVIEW CONTAINS SPOILERS (but honestly, who cares)

When I considered writing a sequel to my Twilight review, there was really only one option: Fifty Shades of Grey. Fifty Shades notoriously originated from a Twilight-inspired fanfiction and has since blossomed into a trilogy of books and a multi-million dollar movie franchise. Since 2011, middle-aged women worldwide have swooned over the erotic romance of Christian Grey and Anastasia ‘Ana’ Steele – yet at the same time, it is also one of the most widely mocked, criticised, and parodied pieces of fiction in history. As well as thinking it would be funny to read and review this novel, I was also curious as to how this dichotomy of public opinion was formed. How is Fifty Shades of Grey so popular, and yet so universally despised? I attempted to find out.

Never before have I encountered a published author with such an astonishing lack of talent. The prose in this novel has no originality or flair, but it is loaded with clichés and stereotypes. The sentence structure is clumsy and awkward, ‘big’ words are selected out of the thesaurus at random to boost the intellectual value of the text and are repeated over and over again, and there is no grasp of realism whatsoever – Anastasia, bless her stupid heart, somehow managed to graduate university without being required to create an email address. The characters mutter, murmur, and whisper almost everything they say, even when it makes no sense. Ana’s best friend, Katherine ‘Kate’ Kavanagh, is referred to by her full name every other time she is mentioned. And lord, do not get me started on Ana’s ‘subconscious’ and ‘inner goddess’. These characters – yes, characters plural, because EL James made the inexplicable decision to personify Ana’s subconscious and feature it in two recurring roles – appear as an angel and a devil on our protagonist’s shoulders, her subconscious homely, cruel, and scolding, her inner goddess a kinky horndog who melts at the mere mention of Christian’s name. This might have been funny if mentioned only once or twice, but Ana’s guardian angels appear over 75 times throughout the novel – and I only started counting around page 50. It’s official: Fifty Shades of Grey is literally the worst book I have ever read in my life.

Part of what makes Fifty Shades so intriguing is the BDSM relationship between Ana and Christian. For those without an internet connection, BDSM is a kind of erotic, consensual roleplay between sexual partners that usually involves one person taking on a dominant role, and the other taking on a submissive one (in Fifty Shades, Christian is a practised dominant and Ana becomes his reluctant submissive). What we see in Fifty Shades of Grey is not BDSM. Christian, we learn, was molested as a teenager; at fifteen years old, he was propositioned by an adult woman to become her submissive. As an adult, in order to regain the control he relinquished as a teenager, Christian uses his money, charm, and dashing good looks to coerce hapless women into becoming his own submissives. On page 436, Ana has the ‘realisation’ that BDSM is “his way of showing that he cares. Perhaps the only way he can show that”. Yet this does not excuse Christian’s behaviour; it highlights the psychological damage he has undergone and the professional help he needs to seek. Perhaps if the story was about Christian realising that his behaviour was a product of his trauma, the book would have had some merit, but this is not the case. It is about an abused man taking out his issues with women on other women.

And the worst part? Anastasia knows this. She calls Christian a control freak and a stalker regularly. She often notes that she is not only intimidated by him, but afraid of him. On page 345, she tells the reader, “I know I’m meant to say yes, but I don’t trust him”. The thing that makes this relationship even more alarming is the fact that Ana has no self-esteem. She is terrified of Christian, yet she is willing to do whatever he asks of her because she believes it is the only way to be with him, and she doesn’t want to lose his devotion. She admits it on page 472:

This is why I am so reticent about our relationship – because on some

basic, fundamental level, I recognize within me a deep-seated compulsion

to be loved and cherished.

She has never had a boyfriend before, is a virgin when she meets Christian, has no one to compare him to and no idea how a regular romantic relationship is supposed to function, let alone a BDSM partnership. Christian takes complete advantage of this. Ana is afraid to be without his attention, and thus he knows that he can get away with anything he wants.

Despite the well-deserved ridicule it receives online, Fifty Shades of Grey had sold 125 million copies by 2015 (Wikipedia). Christian and Ana’s relationship has eclipsed Romeo and Juliet as the couple people call ‘relationship goals’ without knowing how fucked up the relationship really is. How did it become so popular? My guess is that the women who read this book feel like they can relate to Anastasia. Because that’s what sells books, right? Relatability. Feeling like you can connect with the characters. What worries me about this connection is how the book preys on the insecurities of women through the depiction of an insecure character like Anastasia. This books thinks it is about a compelling romance, but in reality, it is about a young woman who falls for the third and richest man who gives her attention. (Two other men displayed romantic interest in Ana before Christian – although  how or why is unclear, since Ana has literally no personality and thinks listening to Snow Patrol and Kings of Leon makes her music taste “indie”.) That man manipulates her, stalks her, coerces her, threatens her, beats her – but, on the odd occasion, he worships her, and it is these tiny moments of perceived adoration to which Anastasia clings. Her absence of self-esteem and self-worth is filled by Christian’s attentiveness, his extravagant gifts, his possessiveness, and his need for her, and even though he mistreats her beyond belief, she still falls madly in love with him. This is not a healthy relationship. But it is marketed as one, and it is interpreted as one by millions of women across the world, and that it what takes this book from ludicrous to dangerous.

WORKS CITED:

WEBSITES

• Penny, Beth. “Fifty Shades of Grey: It Doesn't Take a Genius to Realise That Christian Grey Is a Domestic Abuser.” The Independent, Independent Digital News and Media, 13 Feb. 2015, https://ind.pn/2rjUhZE.

• Purcell, Carey. “Fifty Shades of Feminism - A Response to E. L. James' 'Fifty Shades of Grey'.” The Huffington Post, The Huffington Post, 4 Mar. 2013, https://bit.ly/2HM8sS9.

• Unknown author. “Domination, Submission, and Consent: Inside the Kinky World of BDSM.” The Daily Dot, The Daily Dot, 19 Apr. 2018, https://bit.ly/2jrz0K3.

WIKIPEDIA ARTICLES

• “BDSM.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 26 April 2018. Web. 23 April 2018.

• “Fifty Shades of Grey.” Wikipedia: The Free Encyclopedia. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 3 May 2018. Web. 4 May 2018.