To take a classic like Charlotte Bronte's amazing story about a young woman, who though not the most beautiful or appealing, still got the man of her dreams by being nothing other than her true self is, for lack of a better word, trashy. Now, what . . ? Is this retelling going to make Jane a sexy, gorgeous, naive young adult? Is she going to have a sexual awakening with Mr. Rochester, who will no doubt make her feel amazing after every toss in the sheets or wherever else they decide to do it? Does this not completely take the original moral of the tale and flip it on its head? Has originality truly gone down the toilet that we must now take classics and turn them into our own version of fan fiction and sell them as our own? It's too much to get my head around. And for a struggling writer, who refuses to fall into the mold of what is trending, it frustrates me to think: Oh, in order to be published I just need to take any classic, toss in some sex, or supernatural creatures, and it'll finally happen? Thanks, but no thanks.
I've read a few comments on articles posted about the FIFTY SHADES OF GREY books and heard from people who read them that, apparently, those who do not read them, or refuse to, are prude and those who wish to not have our beloved Jane turn into a sex-crazed chick are prude. This is simply not the case. Yes, some readers cannot handle the amount of sex in certain books, which is fine. We are all human and thus have our own opinions about topics. Some would rather read about a relationship building through conversation and little acts of appreciation. We don't always need sex to prove to us that two characters are madly in love, or madly in lust with each other.
This rant may come across as bitter. Oh, look, the ramblings of yet another frustrated writer, and I agree. But I cannot keep these opinions in anymore, especially after reading that article. JANE EYRE is one of my favorite book. Has been in my Top 3 since first reading--and rereading it--in high school. Knowing that people are going to buy the erotic retelling and devour it upsets me. Yes, it gets people reading, which is always good, but it's now gotten to a point where I can't escape it. Everywhere I turn, it's FIFTY SHADES this, FIFTY SHADES that. I have no quarrel with the writers themselves. I'm sure they are lovely people, but I'm sorry . . . this erotic trend is turning literature into trash and it brings me to tears. If that makes me sound whiny or weak then so be it. It's just how I feel and I needed to get it out. I'll close this out with a quote from the article and if this doesn't make you cringe, literary fans, I don't know what will:
As for other titles jumping on the Fifty Shades bandwagon, the sexual secrets of literary figures Melville, Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne will be explored in the forthcoming Fifty Shades of Louisa May: A Memoir of Transcendental Sex, according to Mediabistro.com
