Fifty Shades of Porn: Mom Talk

Once the news broke that the Fifty Shades trilogy was banned from libraries, I was hooked. I got in line to borrow a copy of the first book from a friend. In transit, the paperback made an unplanned detour to another friend. She knocked it out in three days before it finally got to me.

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The can’t-put-it-down story is addictive. I now understand why it’s being labeled “mommy porn.” It reminds me of an S&M remake of Pretty Woman—business arrangement and all.

He’s rich, gorgeous and emotionally unavailable. She’s intelligent and naïve. So who cares how unlikely it is that he can make the 21-year-old virgin orgasm repeatedly with a riding crop. Who cares how unlikely it is to find a 21-year-old virgin.

Lady Chatterley had nothing up on E.L. James’ Anastasia Steele. As off-putting as the dark undertones can be, this is a book that makes husbands everywhere eat their Wheaties.

While waiting in line for the borrowed book two, Fifty Shades Darker, I picked up The Help, which I found to be one of the most important novels written this decade. Although that book out-scores Fifty Shades in nearly every way, it is the mommy porn that is a cult classic. The Wall Street Journal expects the trilogy to hit 20 million in sales this week.

It’s more than just reading a book. It’s the whole experience of all our girlfriends reading it. Facebook is aflame with wide-eyed curiosity. It’s as if you don’t get the joke if you haven’t read it. It’s the cool thing to do. I don’t remember an adult book being so sweeping—not since “Harry Potter.”

Maybe Fifty Shades doesn’t make the list of all-time classic literature. But it does make you say giddy up.