![]() ![]() ![]() Sorry, but no Brit, let alone an Earl, would ever call them “panties”, and nobody since Clueless has “surfed the crimson tide”. She credits a “posh” language adviser in her credits, but these English aristos’ speech manages to incorporate enough Americanisms to make Made in Chelsea blush. James has the shoddy builder’s attitude to detail, piling it on in the strangest of places – train times to Brentford, an advertising catalogue’s attitude to brand names – and skimping on it where it matters. Read more: The Mister – EL James is back with a mysterious novel, but how will it fare in the post #MeToo world? But James has obviously worked hard on creating a story that, interestingly, has a lot to say about sexual consent and women’s rights. ![]() You will laugh a lot during this book, and not in a good way. The Mister, her first book to break away from that universe, is filled with the same tropes and terrible lines – the first page alone features so much word repetition it reminds you of Little Britain’s Dame Sally Markham trying to up her word count. Her rewrites of her bestsellers, from Christian Grey’s point of view, have been desultory to the point of seeming as thought they were copied and pasted with the pronouns changed. ![]() She’s capable of a compelling plot, as the Fifty Shades trilogy showed, albeit ones strewn with terrible, frequently hilarious moments, but her self-imposed incarceration in the world of Twilight fan-fiction has clearly taken its toll. ![]()
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