Saturday, March 16, 2013

That's Ms. Bared to You

Tonight I have the pleasure of bashing on reviewing the New York Times bestseller Bared to You by Sylvia Day.

Two out of five stars.

Possible spoilers and definitely NSFW (unless your workplace is made of awesome).


Oh, my god, you guys, this book! Oh, my god...

I went into this thinking it was going to be completely and totally lame. Another Fifty Shades of Moronic Writing. Another horrifying testament to the standards which modern writers are apparently held. And do you know what? It WAS. Buuut...for the most part, I had a good time. How? By laughing uncontrollably at nearly every sex scene (and believe me, there are many).

There isn't much of a plot, but then, I guess there doesn't really need to be since it's just smut cleverly (*snort*) disguised as literature. But fans generally defend the story, and I've gotta say, as far as stories go, it's pretty lame. I mean, come on, peeps. They're damaged, they're melodramatic, they're whiny and self-absorbed, they're like, sooo hot, and the entire "story" is them fucking and then whining about it, and then fucking some more. When I first got started, I was terrified because I hit pretentious wordage in the second sentence:

"I wasn't surprised by my roommate's emphatic pronouncement."


The entire book goes on in a similar vein. Plus there's the added bonus of being told very inconsequential details, like what color shoes Eva's wearing, how many steps she had to climb, how often she eats yogurt to keep regular (I'm making up my own, but you get the gist). Having your eyes raped by adjectives and other useless textual diarrhea does not usually make for a highly compelling read. There is seriously a point where Eva tells the reader how in love she is with New York because it's so different from her hometown of San Diego with all the people and activity and sights and sounds (I'm really not kidding). The first quarter of the book was basically just useless info dump nonsense.


Things picked up a little bit when Eva first met Gideon, only because the writing in that scene was so ludicrous. Phrases like "exquisite masculinity", "magnificent maleness", "scorching force of will"...and let's not forget such treasures as,"I thought for a moment that he might be able to make me orgasm just by talking long enough." And "I looked at him in his civilized, urbane, outrageously expensive suit and thought of raw, primal, sheet-clawing fucking."  Say that three times fast!

This was also when I was introduced to Gideon's apparent mind control powers. Eva just goes on and on about how he's put some kind of spell on her, she's inexplicably drawn to him, caught up in his magnetic force, blabbidy blah blah. I suppose it doesn't hurt that Gideon is "savagely gorgeous", and that Eva's eyes "burned just from looking at him". 

 But then! Oh, then I got to the good stuff. I'm not saying that as a pervert, but as a lover of all things inappropriately hilarious. If I didn't know any better, I would swear to everything holy that this book is satire. Because while some of the sex scenes were hot, they were almost always laced with one or two lines that had me laughing so hard I was in tears.

Without further ado, I'm going to treat you to a small sampling. Seriously, prepare yourselves for this. Take a deep breath, make sure your bladder is empty and that you've got water and aid nearby in case you fall over. And for the love of eye bleach, don't let your kids read it:

"...his powerful body straining with the primal need to mate."
 


 "The rhythmic slap of his heavy balls against the curve of my buttocks."


"Then he ripped open his button fly and pulled his big, beautiful penis out."



"Gideon battered my tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh..."

"...his breath leaving him in primitive grunts every time he hit the end of me."



"'I'm so deep in you...I can feel it against my stomach...feel my dick pounding into you.'"


Seriously, is that shit supposed to be sexy? Because I was laughing and cringing at a lot of it. Especially that last bit there ^^^^ Yeah, WTF? She calls her ass her rear, and that's silly when you're talking about a guy finger banging your fart box, but when Gideon jammed his finger into her "puckered hole", I nearly lost my dinner/sanity/sense of direction. Just take your pick because my mind shorted out for a few seconds. I hate the word "puckered" and all its variations now. I really wish she'd just called it her puckering poopshoot and gotten it over with. Did I mention he's apparently ramming his semen in there? Oh, and this is after she stands up and drips his load all over the floor, making Gideon all hot and bothered because, apparently, lack of adequate hygiene is a major turn on for rich, neurotic alpha males.

At one point, Gideon says he feels a desire to "mark" Eva like she's his property...

I always get sidetracked when writing reviews like this because all I ever want to focus on is how funny it all is, but maybe you want to hear how the story stacks up, how the characterization is, how the plot progresses, or what the obstacles are. I can probably sum each area up in five words or less.

Story: Two people fucking.
Characterization: Cliched and irritating.
Plot progression: It's two people fucking...?
Obstacles: Sexual abuse and shallowness.

Yes, they're both damaged and need each other and he's dark and brooding and she's blonde and angelic and the two of them end up in this mindfuck of a relationship, this monumentally codependent clusterfuck of sex and jealousy and petty mind games, and when I wasn't laughing, I kinda wanted to shoot myself in the face.

Guess what else?! Gideon gets all rapey when he's sleepy!

It's stupid.

Really, really stupid.

But I give this book two stars. Why two stars? I'll tell you why two stars...

"The room lit up in a sudden flare of illumination. I turned toward him...
And found him masturbating with shocking viciousness."


 Happy Reading!

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5 comments:

  1. I want to know if I have to blame SMeyer for making America this stupid, or if this stupid was always there like some septic tank under the stairs that suddenly burst.

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    1. I think it's been there, festering. Because I just saw people on TV who were shocked that their cats kill other small animals. Yeah. And the narrator was like, "You might be shocked to know the things your cat does when left to roam!"

      *facepalm*

      People like Stephenie Meyer, E.L. James, and Sylvia Day are just making idiocy and being completely and totally clueless...cool. *shudder*

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  2. "There is seriously a point where Eva tells the reader how in love she is with New York because it's so different from her hometown of San Diego with all the people and activity and sights and sounds (I'm really not kidding)."

    My soul just shrieked over a soundtrack of the theme from Psycho.

    I'm a San Diegan. Not a transplant, like a 28 years out of 28 years San Diegan writing this comment from within view of San Diego's Mission Bay who's suddenly got kickfiremurder in her belly over an author portraying her hometown based on a 40 year old tourist brochure.

    San Diego is not a fucking bohemian surfing village. It's Cali-fucking-fornia's second largest city, the nation's second most popular year round tourist destination (after only New York City itself), conjoined twins with Tijuana, and a beta global city. What part of this equals being dazzled by the "people and activity and sights and sounds" of a big city to Sylvia Day?

    Substantial swaths of San Diego (including but not necessarily limited to Downtown, Pacific Beach, Hillcrest, and Ocean Beach) are pretty much 24/7. If you got a parking spot in the Gaslamp Quarter at 4 AM on a Tuesday you'd either find your religion or lose it. Then Comic-Con happens and that very same Quarter simply a-splodes and we all turn to enraged cannibalism.

    We have seen busy. We are not impressed by it when we see more of it in other places.

    Moreover, if a San Diegan were going to fall in love with a city JUST because it was mind-fuckingly busy and big, they'd find the opportunity in their own back yard. We're not even a two hour drive from the only other New-York-level population center in the country, and we all wind up there eventually whether we like it or not. Los Angeles's fat ass sits on our heads, and it crapped out Sylvia Day.

    She's is apparently the kind of Los Angeleno (and author) so incapable of not-so-fine distinctions that she unthinkingly portrayed a girl from a less-big big city moving to a big-big big city having the same reaction to the change as a naive country girl.

    No offense to sensible, functional Los Angelenos. I have no quibbles with you. This woman is an insult to women, to authors, and to Southern Californians. I'm just chagrined that she's chosen to portray my hometown, and poorly.

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  3. As it was with your reviews on those stupid "50 Shades" um, "books," thanks for another hilarious bash on another sorry excuse for literotica. How some of this stuff can be considered "hot" and "best-selling" at the same time is beyond me. Then again, I shouldn't be surprised, given the many other stupid things today's culture has glorified.

    As an aspiring writer myself (who may or may not make it big since I prefer to write actual coherent plots with strong-minded female characters), I will say that if any of my stories get popular and sell, only to be roasted by you, I'll consider it a badge of honor. :)

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  4. I have only just found your blog and so far I am dying of laughter. Finally someone who tells it like it is. Keep it up.

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