Bright Red and Fifty Shades of Gray

You know, when erotica is available as a mass market paperback,

displayed on the shelves of my neighborhood grocer, we've

reached some sort of watershed in this country.

Whether it's a continuing slide into a nadir of literary standards

or an opening of tolerance of expression, I can't say.

Years ago, I always felt a bit embarrassed when I 

entered a local used book store. One entire wall was covered

by romance novels with pale pink spines. Since women generally 

prefer to visualize their erotica rather than actually see it, those

books were/are the woman's equivalent of 

men's pornographic videos.

However, one man I knew read the books for amusement

(he said). Secretly, though, he imagined himself in the role 

of rescuing hero, the prince whose "sword of 

hardened steel" left his lady in a dazed swoon,

grateful for his attentions.

I wonder how many of those books are actually written by men?