Well, well, well. I asked for escalation and did it ever, in all the ways I did not care for. This book was not a Godfather 2 or Return of the Jedi. (You can catch my review of Fifty Shades of Grey here.)
I finished it a couple days ago and when I ponder on it to write this review, all I remember is that “stuff” happened.
So many things bothered me about this book. The relationship itself is weird, the sex is boooooorriiiing, the writing is still deplorable.
Their relationship is gross. I don’t mean the kinky stuff. I mean the nuts and bolts day to day mundane “Do you want peanut butter and jelly or tuna fish sandwiches?” kind of stuff. He gaslights her constantly. She lives in dread of displeasing him. It sounds so exhausting. Right at the outset, he proclaims himself possessive, so none of it should be a surprise, but the level of ickiness and emotional abuse is unsettling. I don’t read romance to get stressed out by being in her scared brain.
The sex in this book was a snoozefest. My disappointment with the first book’s lack of kinky shenanigans was nothing compared with this. The mask on the cover? Don’t be fooled. No weird, kinky masked stranger sex or additional partners or anything. Just this, again and again:
“Come for me Ana!”
“Ok!” And I explode around him.
As far as the writing goes, I’d hoped with a little practice, the writing would get better a la the Sookie Stackhouse books. Between the first one and the last one I read, the writing improved tremendously. No such luck with Fifty Shades. I’m about ~150 pages into the third and still terrible writing.
I award this book:
2 raging continent wide cholera epidemics
And 1 well, I accidentally bought the third one instead of the first thinking it was all three so I guess I might as well read it anyway