On my bedside table, Charles Dickens and E.L James are at war. I confess, I was the one who started it all....
Way back in March, I began reading "Great Expectations." And Charles Dickens has been kicking my arse with his curly language and character sketches ever since. I figured that given it's such a famous book, by such a celebrated writer, that I owed it to myself to give it a go.
As for the 'acclaimed' E.L James, it hurts me to admit that blinded by amazon.com reviews, I too succumbed to the societal peer pressure and started reading "50 Shades of Grey" about a month ago, to see what the fuss was all about. Oh, how I rue the day I began cheating on Dickens with this cheap floozy. Two words: over-rated.
It's my own fault really. It was an ordinary night, Dickens had been giving me such a hard time - I just wanted an easy catch. Grey was sitting there on my lonely kindle, a place I reserve for books I know I won't care to hold, and it just kind of happened. I have only disappointed myself...
Oh Charles, if he only knew, he'd likely be rolling in his grave. Just fancy a face off between Miss Havisham and Anastasia Steele, urrgh the name, bloody hell, I just want to vomit - Miss Havisham would likely throw her mouldy wedding cake at Steele's head as she rocked herself in the corner of the room, huddled in the foetal position. It's no contest, they should scarcely share the same bookish air. Most disturbing of all, Dickens pulls in annual earnings in the way of $3 million, while James is believed to make $1 million dollars every week on her shades of shit. It's outrageous - somebody should have that woman stopped immediately.
And what does it say about our society when we are actually interested in this rubbish? People are starting to talk freely about reading in passing conversation and "50 Shades of Grey" is the vehicle - oh the tragedy. I can feel my intelligence waning, even as I write this post. Dickens is fine cuisine and James is like wordy junk food - all "down there" and lip biting, wah, wah - use your words James, or just some other words!?
I'm 20 pages from the "Great Expectations" finish line, Pip Pirrip you observant little bastard, I can't wait see how this ends for you buddy.
I suppose, like the old adage nothing worth having comes easy, so too it is for books and language. While Dickens lives on 150 odd years after putting pen to paper, E.L. James will surely disappear into second hand bookstores and 20cent garage sale piles. I hope.