Fanny Hill, or Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure

I'm technically a part of a book club, but I've never attended a meeting or even met any of the other members of the group. I responded to a flyer about a book club that would read only high-quality books. Mostly the books are classics and the meetings are in the evenings, which typically don't work well for me. My reading time these days is not what it once was so I'm much more selective of what I read and generally speaking, classics aren't making the cut. I know that they are well written and full of virtues that make them beloved for years and years, but nineteenth century prose is too slow a ride for me these days. I did (somehow) manage to get through John Cleland's Fanny Hill, or Memoirs of  a Woman of Pleasure... though it took me months to do so.

I was intrigued by the novel when I learned that it is considered the first erotic novel ever written. (The book club organizer offered it as a literary alternative to Fifty Shades of Grey.) At first it was a fun novelty: an erotic novel that is written with the primness of the nineteenth century's language. However the characters seemed flat, making it an arduous read. I wasn't sure that I would actually get through it, as it seemed rather pointless to me after a while. It's a short novel though and I kept thinking about how I endured this much of it, what's a little more, so I eventually did finish it. The novel is certainly nothing I can recommend though, unless you are looking for an erotic novel with flimsy characters and a questionable plot-line.