Look, I'm just gonna say it: I finally listened to Fifty Shades of Grey in 2024 and I have feelings. Many, many feelings.
I was deep into a rebrand project for a boutique hotel—the kind of tedious logo iteration work that requires zero brain cells—when I decided to finally tackle the book that launched a thousand think pieces. Frida was asleep on my keyboard (as usual), Diego was judging me from his perch on the bookshelf (also as usual), and I pressed play on nearly twenty hours of what I can only describe as... an experience.
The Voice Behind Ana's Inner Goddess
Okay, so Becca Battoe. Here's the thing—she's doing a lot of heavy lifting with material that doesn't always help her out. Ana's inner monologue is constant, and Battoe manages to make it feel less like a running commentary and more like we're genuinely inside this girl's head. The breathless quality she brings to Ana's voice? It works. It really does. When Ana is flustered (which is, like, 80% of the book), you feel that nervous energy.
But—and this is a real but—her Christian Grey voice took some getting used to. Some listeners have mentioned the accent inconsistency thing, and yeah, I noticed it too. There were moments where I couldn't tell if Christian was supposed to sound American businessman or vaguely British mysterious. It's not a dealbreaker, but it pulled me out of a few scenes. Julia Whelan she is not, but honestly, who is?
What Battoe absolutely nails is the emotional escalation. By the time we hit the more intense scenes in the later chapters, her pacing slows down in this deliberate way that made me actually hold my breath. (Yes, while adjusting kerning on a logo. Multitasking queen over here.)
The Vibes Are... Complicated
I'm not going to pretend this book is something it isn't. The writing is repetitive—I lost count of how many times Ana's "inner goddess" did something. The power dynamics are messy in ways that made me uncomfortable, and not always in the "ooh, delicious tension" way. Sometimes just in the "girl, please talk to a therapist" way.
BUT. And this is a big but.
There's something weirdly compelling about the whole thing? The audiobook clocks in at almost twenty hours, and I genuinely didn't hate the journey. The tension between Ana and Christian—even when the dialogue made me cringe—kept me pressing play during my morning coffee, during client calls (on mute, obviously), during my late-night design sessions.
Abuela would have clutched her rosary SO hard at this one. Like, multiple times per chapter. I could practically hear her saying "Ay, mija, what are you listening to?" from wherever she is now. (Miss you, Abuela. Sorry about my book choices.)
Who This Audiobook Is Actually For
Let's be real for a second. If you're coming to this book expecting literary fiction or nuanced character development, you're going to be disappointed. That's not what this is. This is a fantasy—a very specific kind of fantasy—wrapped in a romance package.
The audiobook format actually helps in some ways. Battoe's delivery smooths over some of the clunkier prose, and hearing the dialogue performed makes certain scenes feel more natural than they probably read on the page. The pacing of an audiobook also forces you to sit with scenes rather than skim, which... look, sometimes that's good and sometimes you're just waiting for something to happen.
I'd recommend this for:
- Long road trips where you want something that doesn't require deep focus
- Mindless chores (laundry, dishes, the eternal logo revision)
- Anyone who saw the movies and wondered if the books are different (they are, but also they aren't)
Maybe skip if:
- You need your romances to have healthy relationship dynamics from the start
- Repetitive internal monologue drives you up a wall
- You're listening somewhere you might blush (seriously, headphones only)
The Verdict
Did this book make me ugly-cry? No. Did it make me feel things? Weirdly, yes—though not always the feelings I expected. There's genuine vulnerability in Ana's character that Battoe brings out, especially in the final chapters when everything gets emotionally messy. I found myself invested despite my better judgment.
The narration is solid if not spectacular. The story is what it is—a cultural phenomenon that's easy to mock but harder to put down than you'd think. At 1.0x speed (because I'm not a monster), those twenty hours flew by faster than I expected.
Is it a must-listen? Honestly, no. But if you're curious about what all the fuss was about, the audiobook is a perfectly fine way to find out. Just maybe don't start it at your abuela's house.
This is a rainy Sunday book, if your rainy Sunday involves wine and questionable life choices.
