“He doesn't sleep with anyone, although he has a few times with me”

As Fifty Shades of Grey reaches its empty promise of an ending with the supposedly stoic Ana Steele breaking down in tears for the umpteenth time the reader will be torn between thanking the heavens the ordeal is over and pondering the temptation of the sequels. Fifty Shades Darker and Fifty Shades Freed exist, and are even promoted within the first novel's pages, but there are enough warning signs in EL James' debut to crush the natural curiousity over what happens next. After all, nothing of consequence takes place in the initial five hundred pages, which seem determined to stall plot twists for no particular reason. When Bewildered Heart last took leave of Christian and Ana to file a blog report the characters were trapped in a peculiar status quo neither wanted nor wished to exit, due more to narrative requirements than personal integrity. Nevertheless, a handful of events followed, culminating in Ana's grand life decision to throw in the proverbial towel in her quest to turn a psychologically-twisted billionaire playboy into boyfriend material.

The entire plot can be encapsulated in a single sentence and probably should have been, but as the likes of J.K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyers have proved, why use one novel when several will maximise profits? Therefore, a critic must either subject themselves to the full trilogy or review the opening installment knowing two thirds of the tale are yet to be told. Such a critique might still have value had Fifty Shades of Grey told a self-contained story, and while Ana undertakes something approaching an emotional arc the book simply stops, rather than ending with any significance. Ana must sign a contract to be with Christian, even though she is free to renege on the agreement at any given moment, but she never puts pen to paper and eventually walks away. Christian cannot commit to a regular relationship or enjoy sex without involving his disturbing paraphilia, but the story's duration sees him carrying on a regular relationship without a nipple clamp in sight. As the explosive finale lurches into view the fate of Ana and Christian's eternal love hinges on his refusal to be touched on the chest and the mysteries of his birth mother and Mrs. Robinson, all issues that will surely be resolved when EL James sees fit.

Every potentially meaningful narrative turn leads to another life-affirming rut in a well-lit location, and momentous dramas such as meeting in-laws, graduating university, moving house or breaking up were never seriously dealt with due to Christian and Ana's unabashed lustful enthusiasm. However, after what seems like pages a momentary impasse is created through a thousand mile distance that not even Christian's impressive Popsicle can cover. Seeking answers to the intricate web of emotions deeply stirring in her stomach muscles, and receiving no help from the two other women living inside her mind, Ana jets off to sunny Georgia to see her mother and latest husband Bob. There she can relax, and do womanly things such as cooking, sunbathing and discussing boys. Her vacation is interrupted, thankfully, as Christian just happens to be staying in the same hotel where Ana and her mother are enjoying another round of cocktails. Naturally, Mrs. Steele is charmed by the hunky billionaire and his pathological need to track women down no matter how far they run from him. Ana is equally attracted to obsessive behaviour and immediately abandons her only real family. Shortly after two sex scenes a little more of Grey's enigma has been revealed with his stunning admission that he was born to a prostitute who had a penchant for a hard crystalline form of cocaine.

There seems no turning back from the implied importance of this biographical tidbit, but rather than dwell on substance the loved-up couple go gliding before finding their separate ways back to Seattle for the portentous showdown that does not actually matter. The atmosphere within Christian's apartment takes a dark turn, as James achieves the same subtle story-telling she would have showcased by breaking a pen over a piece of paper. One minute Ana rests her head on Christian's shoulder as he plays Bach on his piano and the next she is challenging him to spank her mercilessly as if to prove that is not acceptable. Such is the nature of the relationship between a temperamental psychopath and an idiot that this feels suitable for a conclusive detour. As it turns out Ana does not enjoy real pain and does not want to marry a man who enjoys beating her. With this life-changing epiphany forced into her inner dialogue she packs her things and waits patiently for Christian to write a cheque before storming out, back to her old life and back to being the weak-willed cry baby she wasn't before they had met. For their union to be successful Christian must recognise his demons and stop fighting them through the sexual degradation of women. As for Ana's journey from cliched female character in a romance novel to fulfilled wife of handsome tycoon she must not lose the passion and innocence that were never really at risk to begin with. Fortunately EL James has one thousand further pages to sort out these minor quibbles.

For Bewildered Heart there will be no additional reading, but instead a happy return to Mills & Boon where conceited CEOs of major corporations make their minds up relatively swiftly in matters of the heart. As for Fifty Shades of Grey there appears little to ruminate on. The book did indeed live up to the hype of being formulaic drivel with no redeeming features. Whether a thinly-veiled rewrite of Twilight or a contemporary misunderstanding of Tess of the d’Urbervilles its worldwide readership proves romance publishers are correct to push the timeless scenario of an arrogant alpha male seducing a swooning virgin to a backdrop of obscene wealth. What might have made Fifty Shades striking, and thus deserving of its astounding success, would have been the notion that James had taken archetypal characters and situations as far as they could go. Yet the novel consistently betrays its aspiration for subversive edge. Christian's sadomasochism is hardly explored, and the bondage scenes are tame compared to what is promised when Ana reads through her contract in chapter eleven. Nevertheless, this pulled punch seems minor when considered against the portrayals of hero and heroine and tedious lack of ambition shown in the story-telling.

For struggling authors of salacious daydreams there is now an opportunity to bring what James' novel should have been to a mainstream audience and the millions upon millions of dupes who fell for the word-of-mouth are owed something deserving of their devotion. Perhaps the journey of Fifty Shades from Twilight fan-fiction to standalone phenomenon suggests fans of vampire romance wanted more of the same, but with a little less of the Mormon propaganda. Christian Grey sates this desire, but in-keeping with Edward Cullen his dark and dangerous impulses are never a threat to the heroine, allowing him to manifest the idealised male while diluting the inner turmoil that might have strengthened him as a character. In both series, therefore, conflict is generated externally, despite the lessons of Secrets Uncovered. Twilight introduced a conveyor belt of malevolent vampires to chase Bella while Fifty Shades Darker feels it necessary to throw in philandering bosses, stalkers and helicopter sabotage to compensate for the obvious weakness in the core concept. Such seemingly irrelevant yet glaring flaws bode poorly for the future of the genre, but should serve as encouragement to those with their own idea for a high-stakes romance. If those aforementioned franchises were this popular despite being under-developed and badly-written imagine the fame and fortune awaiting an author capable of competence.

" I don’t remember reading about nipple clamps in the Bible"

Selling studious criticism of Mills & Boon to devoted fans of Mills & Boon who are savvy with the internet has proved an arduous struggle for this Bewildered Heart weblog. The notion that romance novels are inherently dim-witted has been acknowledged by everyone except the authors of those books, and even they appear to be defending their work with the same lazy indifference to quality that they bring to their prose. Despite this, their enduring popularity remains undiminished. The fall in sales of chick-lit has been well-documented, but romance fiction is as profitable and newsworthy as ever, thanks largely to two phenomenal franchises, the twee teenage vampire swooning of Twilight and the decidedly less virtuous world of Fifty Shades. Sales of the first book, Fifty Shades of Grey, have reached demented new heights in success, out-selling Harry Potter and The Da Vinci Code within four months of release, with digital and print sales upwards of six million. The sequels, Darker and Freed, have similar, though less spectacular figures, suggesting either readers bought all three in one go, or read the first one and decided not to bother with the latter two. Is this the Lord of the Rings of literary sex?

The trilogy tells the sordid dating history of Anastasia Steele, a beautiful university graduate who attracts the attention of enigmatic twenty-something tycoon Christian Grey. He offers her the lucrative opportunity of being his mistress and she accepts for reasons that aren't explained satisfactorily. It is at this point that the book begins to twist its mundane, everyday scenario. Christian hides a dark secret and, furthermore, he is a sadomasochist with a penchant for whips, chains and possibly other torture devices. He is shocked, and no doubt a little perturbed at his lack of research, when he learns that Ana is a virgin and not particularly aroused by bondage gear. From there only two potential endings seem likely and one of those seems unlikely. Surprisingly, Ana leaves Christian at the end of the first book, frustrated that her mysterious owner hasn't overcome his deep-rooted psychological scarring and given her a hug. In the second part, Fifty Shades of Darker, Ana meets an enigmatic pharmaceutical CEO named Ezra Darker who offers her a small fortune to pretend to be his wife at a forthcoming family get-together while Fifty Shades of Freed introduces wealthy tree surgeon Cornelius Freed and the three men throw money at one another until Anna declares one of them the winner and marries him.

Within months of their release the books have become the literary sensation of the year, E.L. James is the must-have dinner party guest of the season and light violence has been added to everyone's sexual repertoire. Christian Grey is truly the popsicle flavour of the month. Even Hollywood has joined in, announcing plans for the film adaptation, with the likes of Emma Watson, Angelina Jolie, Ryan Gosling and 1980s Mickey Rourke all unrealistically linked to the roles. Some have hailed this as the summer of the bonkbuster, while others have coined the term 'Mummy Porn,' although this suggests something entirely different. These phrases do a disservice to this burgeoning subgenre, as well as sarcastic wits the world over, as James has hardly tapped into an until now unknown market. Her novels have sold astoundingly, as if every Mills & Boon fan stopped buying from the assortment of titles their favoured publisher proffered and instead plumped for the same book. Fifty Shades has not trounced the competition of the romance genre, it has simply become the romance genre.

In response to this consumerism, Mills & Boon has reacted by reissuing twelve of its most erotically-charged sadomasochistic novels, including Going Down and Cuffing Kate, but in doing so have they assumed the reason for E.L. James' recording-breaking trilogy is the sexual content and not the hackneyed archetypal characters, the hostile misogyny or the insipid writing? After all, Mills & Boon cornered the market on those years ago, and they have been running Spice, their explicit imprint, since 2008, and yet Fifty Shades was published by Random House, some company that could have been anybody. Notoriously Harlequin's product is not promoted for individual glory. Their books are on shelves for thirty days, but the evolution of technology has allowed contracted authors a shot at continuing relevance. Now all Mills & Boon books exist permanently through websites and as ebooks, and it is electronically that E.L. James found her audience. She began her career, as all modern authors do, penning Twilight fan fiction for an online forum where Twi-Hards reimagine their beloved heroes and heroines in a variety of situations. James quickly gained a following thanks to her eroticism and cliffhanger endings. Bella referred to Edward as Fifty and soon enough entirely original characters had developed, she a passive virgin and he a dominating billionaire, thus unlike anything in the history of romantic fiction.

The cynical attempts to cash-in on a hungry public desire may have misjudged their target audience as well as misunderstood the appeal of the Fifty Shades books, but anyone who has read, or attempted to read, E.L. James is at a loss to explain what her fans see in her. Reviews have been as negative as those aimed at Stephenie Meyer or the Sex and the City movies, suggesting a division between popular opinion and critical evaluation. Nevertheless, the reaction of Mills & Boon does not imply changes to their product or lessons learned from James' interpretation of modern romance. The issue of great significance at the heart of Fifty Shades is in marketing, and this is where Harlequin consistently betray their readers and authors as if as a matter of course. Fifty Shades of Grey may have been born from humble beginnings, but using the Twilight forums helped generated the sensational word-of-mouth that contributed to the impressive online sales that begat the print numbers. What followed was wholly predictable, as women rushed to buy the novels their colleagues, friends and over-confident strangers were all talking about. Many were titillated, but those expecting hardcore eroticism, lessons in sex toys or competent writing were disappointed. Briefly a healthy attitude towards sexuality was pushed into mainstream conversation, but Ana's virginity and Christian's unhealthy attitude towards sexuality soon put paid to that.

Nevertheless, Mills & Boon might hope to strike while the iron is hot, as any adventurous hero would insist, and seize this opening to update their brand. Fifty Shades of Grey is as unashamedly old-fashioned as Twilight, but the books are seen as the contemporary alternatives to Harlequin Romances it is socially acceptable to enjoy. With such a stigma attached there are obvious explanations for why the likes of Meyer and James have pitched their work elsewhere, yet the truth is Fifty Shades of Grey could have been published by Spice as The Billionaire's Blackmailed Mistress, few would have read it and the author would have been given a contract to dream up four new novels by the end of the year. If Mills & Boon has any intention of modernising its product, besides designing a website, here is as good a chance as they have ever been given. They invented this saturated market and then they saturated it. A new crowd of readers with plenty of money and little discernible taste has announced itself eager for a follow-up and all Harlequin can offer is shelf after shelf of drearily identical, colour-coordinated novels. Instead they need a single title, stacked artistically on its own table with a banner and a clever lighting arrangement, that tells the story of a penniless, yet likeable, virgin girl who meets a mysterious, brooding billionaire with a perverse ultimatum and also an estranged wife locked in the attic. Does anyone anywhere have anything like that lying around?

“We met and we talked and it was epic, but then the sun came up and reality set in”

In a desperate bid to attract a new and spend-thrifty readership to Bewildered Heart this is the obligatory Twilight essay. In a self-destructive move to alienate this new-found readership, allow your new bookmarked blog to write the following. Stephenie Meyer is an appalling writer, Twilight is a hateful novel and pale, socially-awkward teenagers don't attract women. Meyer's prose is inept, pedantic and largely redundant. Her characters are insipid nobodies and three or four of them should have been merged into one. Her narrative arcs are dull, bloated and predictable. The relationships portrayed in her novels are lifeless and unrealistic. Some of her descriptions of locations are evocative, though there are no links to prove it.

Despite this, although surely because of this, the four episodes of her Twilight saga are among the most successful books of all time and the film franchise based upon these books has earned more money than it is politely acceptable to share socially. If this isn't a compelling reason for everyone to write their own bog-standard, trashy romance novel, what is? What's stopping you? Dignity? 

The Twilight Saga Episode 1: Twilight weighs in at a hefty four-hundred and fifty pages. It's a tome. The story doesn't kick in until page three hundred, after a pointless and infuriating baseball game, and the half-hearted injection of antagonism is tacked on and quickly wasted. The bulk of the book is spent dealing with a potentially curious story involving a teenage girl, Bella, who falls in love with a vampire, Edward, and must deal with the dangers of vampirism, heightened by the melodrama of teenage first love, with the usual issues of disapproving, protective parents and a disapproving, spiteful student body.

Thankfully the vampire doesn't feast on human blood, the girl's father is largely absent and indifferent to her actions and everyone at school is super-nice. Any potential has gone. Phew! That was close. Something dramatic almost happened. The striking problem for the vampires of Twilight is how unlike conventional vampires they are. So unlike them, in fact, Meyer shouldn't have bothered. True Blood, Moonlight and Buffy the Vampire Slayer have already covered this ground, and on the medium of television, where everything makes more sense.

There are supernatural romances published every week that wallow in this tripe, and yet the massive appeal of Twilight over all the others like it remains baffling. What went right? Thank goodness Bewildered Heart has merely tasked itself with discovering what goes wrong with Harlequin novels, otherwise the question currently dogging literary agents would also be dogging us, and Blogspot just could not survive that volume of traffic.

Twilight is over twice the length of a standard Mills & Boon. However, any editor worth their salt would have been able to cut two hundred pages without harming what little plot there is. In that case, what stops Twilight from being prime Harlequin fodder? After all, the publishers have introduced a new sub-genre to cater for this claptrap, where werewolves, demons and vampires are de-clawed, unhorned, de-fanged and introduced to a nice urban lady with emotional problems and curly hair. Alternatively, lady-vampires (fempires?) and witches meet dark and sexy men who arouse in them more than just murder! Yikes. New titles include Wild Wolf (Wilf?), Demon's Seduction and Shadow of a Vampire. Get them while they're hot. Although please be advised that by hot we are not referring to the temperature of the books, we are using hot in the way kids do, to mean attractive and sexy. You will not be burned. Available in Adobe Reader!

As for resolution and conflict, besides the obvious, there's the immediate problem of vampires, werewolves and witches being lousy at domestic chores. A quick roll in the hay (or whatever it is vampires roll in) is not enough for Mills & Boon lovers. Sure, eternal love is possible for these characters, but everyone knows every marriage ends in divorce, except for those that death interrupts the inevitable breakdown of. Therefore eternal love is impossible. That's scientific fact.

Now, while Mills & Boon have a colourful history of inexplicable sexism, great efforts have been made over the decades to healthily respect the kind of foolish characters who have to exist for romance literature to work, and so recently most of the misogyny has become unintentional and largely consequential of the narrative structure. However, in Twilight the misogyny swaggers back onto centre-stage and tells the little woman to obey. Bella faints when Edward kisses her, the perfection of his perfect perfectness too much for her to handle. Bella really is a limp insult to girls everywhere, until you realise that teenage girls actually do faint once placed inside a room with the actor who plays Edward Cullen, thus proving the point of Meyer's books that all women are pathetic.

When Twilight finally ends the reader is left facing the unappetizing prospect of a further three books, each as door-stoppery as the previous. By the time the whole sordid affair is over our anaemic lovers have settled down to an eternity of wedded bliss. The fourth entry, Breaking Dawn, ends appropriately with Bella washing up while Edward dries and they have a cute conversation about the weather forecast and how if it is overcast they could drive to a coast and have lunch. Please note that this probably isn't how the book ends.

If Mills & Boon have guidelines, which they do, for a standard novel then they are traditional of the entire romance genre. Despite the ever-increasing gamut of sub-genres it remains difficult to find two books which differ in anything other than surface details. Stephenie Meyer's Twilight would never have been accepted by Mills & Boon because Mills & Boon have standards. Until the mighty and wise publishing house introduce a Teen section then our idiotic reading choices and teenagers' idiotic reading choices will have to remain on separate shelves.