I have struggled with these books for many reasons - now I find myself struggling to review the last one. Why? Well, I thought they were amongst the worst things I have ever read, because the writing is so poor, but I recently read a well written book that bored me so much it almost put me off books entirely. These books, terrible as they are, never made me feel like that. So, what to think, then? 
 I think I bottomed out what bothers me the most about these books (apart from the ******* 'inner goddess' et al, and also Ana being the most annoying character ever - she earned the title in this book due to her bizarre behaviour and because feminism, or indeed the concept of a healthy relationship, seem to have passed right by her without stopping): I don't feel that I am reading stories. I feel like I am reading the author's fantasies - like she is Ana. It's just wish fulfillment, or so it feels like to me. I mean, I can't prove this of course, but I feel like a twenty-one/two year old girl would not continually refer to her twenty-eight year old boyfriend/husband as looking 'young.' It might occur to a fifty-eight year old woman, or even a woman of my age (steady!) but not a twenty-one year old. It might just be me, but I don't buy it. Slips like that just hammer the feeling for me that I am reading EL James's fantasies, and not a novel. And, I guess, given the genesis of this book, I am. 
 Back to the book though. For me, the worst of the three. No tension, and what there was felt forced and 'oh I'd better include a plot other than Christian touching Ana 'there' (really, please can we call it something than 'my sex' or 'there' - although 'there' also doubled up as her butt too in this book - handy. And I am glad the issue of butt-plug cleaning was resolved - it was touch and go). The epilogue was vomitous, and the DVD extras at the end were totally unnecessary. 
 One other thing: I wasn't really too bothered by people saying that Ana talks like a Brit (maybe because I am one), but calling Christian an 'arse' (even though he is one), was too much. 
 Goodybe, Fifty Shades. My inner critic will miss hating you.