Fifty Shades of (Bleak) Grey

As a huge fan of paranormal romance, I'm no stranger to erotic fiction which is great fun. So when I first heard the buzz about EL James' Fifty Shades I sang a Hallelujah chorus as I tripped to the nearest laptop and downloaded merrily away. Alas. This is why my mother taught me never to look forward too much to anything because the resulting thud of disappointment can be quite jarring.

Who is this little novella meant for? Thirtysomething housewives standing next to the laundry line with a ciggy dangling out of their lipstick-smeared petulant mouths, a dissatisfied meatloaf in the oven and a screaming toddler flinging food from a highchair? If you think that's a cliched image out of the 50s, I'd like to know what you think of this teenage dream alive and kicking between the pages of a book.

The hero is flawed, the heroine a virgin and just to modernise the whole, James throws in some sex toys, aka TMI. In the old days of Mills&Boon (a staple for all virgins), the formula was just that, without the sex toys. I know people (read romance fiction readers) don't change and I shamefully admit that the M&B formula can still float my boat but not when it is so painfully, haha, written. James has ensured that even if you only have a clutch of 'O' levels to your name, you can easily follow her simplistic style because it seems to be written from the point of view of a 15-year-old. (Sarah Honenberger makes that work in Catcher, Caught. Here? Not so much.)

Christian Grey is a CEO of who-cares-what, he's tall, gorgeous and has haunted eyes – really, what woman would not jump into the man's bed – and Anastasia Steele is lovely, shy and never felt the need to be bedded until etc etc. But, aye, here's the rub, when Christian speaks he speaks 'phlegmatically', when he's turning Ana on she sighs 'Oh my' and you wouldn't be surprised if she was pausing for a cucumber sandwich or two, and I do not mean that as part of their sensual arsenal but in terms of what a simpering Victorian Miss might do.

He has to have some BDSM going on and does sinful things with whips when he's not using his hands - and she is learning to like it.

Fifty Shades has perhaps five nice lines but in terms of why it is popular – this is a mystery. I can get my kicks from Stacia Kane and JR Ward, the gods of paranormal/erotic fiction, and I can re-read their dialogue and lust after their characters without a second thought. With Fifty Shades I keep thinking 'Why, God, why' and once you start thinking...God help you. Great fiction just lets you feel. That clutch at the throat first, then you let it sink into your consciousness.

Then again, maybe I can guess why Fifty Shades has caught the public imagination. Working women everywhere with busy husbands, or no lovers at all, may have very vivid imaginations to make up for what they're not getting at home. Christian and Ana work on the obvious level, but James has added a clever touch: She's made them have normal family lives, siblings and best friends so it seems that much more realistic. As in: Maybe, just maybe, this could happen to you.

James has also understood the need most women have for that something extra in their personal lives, which is where the Dom/Sub element of the book comes in.

It's the same reason why I've stopped reading Mills&Boons and have switched to its more substantial big sister; and she doesn't always need to wield a whip. In fact, erotic fiction like Fifty Shades pales in comparison to paranormal erotic fiction for the simple reason that you hardly, if ever, meet human males who are even vaguely interesting, either in real or unreal life. But if you're having dinner with Zsadist of Ward's Black Dagger Brotherhood, with a scar slashing his face, his penchant for green apples and his tender, tender loving, hell could freeze over and you wouldn't notice. Of course hell will freeze over before you meet someone like him other than in the pages of a book, but you can't have everything.

Although these days, much as j'adore Ms Ward, my heart belongs to Terrible, Stacia Kane's incredible character from the Chess Putnam series who I keep beside my bed.

Just to remind myself of the standards I must hold.