I’d taken a temporary hiatus from writing about this due to a series of unfortunate mental-health-related events.
(Edit: The unfortunate mental-health related events just keep on comin’, don’t they?) It is a million degrees and I am already irritable so I decided now was as good a time as any to jump straight back into this.
Here we go.
Well, Christ. I’ve stopped hoping for anything better to manifest itself from this book, but it really does get one down that it’s entirely composed of pages and pages of the internal monologue of a self-righteous buffoon. I’d hate to say I was expecting anything different, but I was definitely, sadly, expecting something BETTER.
Chapter opens with Grey having a nightmare about how he’s turned Ana down. He wanders around his vast house and once again sounds a lot like the layman’s dimwitted alternative to Patrick Bateman, except not nearly half as eloquent but probably more arrogant. He’s musing about calling his ‘shrink’ (sidenote: I have reserved a special place in hell for anyone who refers to a psychologist or a psychiatrist as a ‘shrink’; ditto to anyone who refers to to the things said by psychologist/psychiatrists as ‘psychobabble’. You’re goin’ to hell, Christian…). Instead he lies awake for hours thinking about how much he wants our awfully useless Ana, and conveniently pulls, from his personal library no less, an extremely rare copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles and compares his dark, dark, emo soul to Hardy’s. Please, give me a break. There’s a few paragraphs where Christian alludes to his troubled teenage past and how his troubled teenage soul sought solace in fiction – the same fiction Ana apparently is scoring top grades in writing essays about. Both of them are dragging down the media representation of people who read books of high literary esteem. Both of them annoy me endlessly.
Yet another Bateman-esque observation when he arrives at his office building (called Grey House which makes it sound like a manor that might’ve belonged in A Series of Unfortunate Events and is ALMOST another grey pun). He looks around for Olivia, one of his receptionists/ eye candy and is glad to see she is not present because ‘the girl is always mooning over me.’ Oh, don’t pretend you don’t like the attention, Christian. Seriously. He strides into his office and his very first task is to call the PI yet AGAIN and find out when Ana’s last exam is – you know, rather than try to call her or text her or something, pay someone to stalk her. It is the very same thing. The very same.
Then follows a page of really, horrifically generic business-talk. I know James worked in TV for years but surely at this stage it should be obvious that background babbling about general business-sounding things is different from actual dialogue that is to be understood by readers, and should have some sort of substance to it??
Olivia makes a reappearance and I’m starting to think James actually DID read American Psycho before she wrote this book and just changed all the things Bateman said to himself from ‘so I stabbed a prostitute’ to ‘I want Ana’/’Olivia is useless’. A truly terrible foreshadowing paragraph ends the drivel of this otherwise pointless chapter – ‘I wonder if that will be the last I see of the books’. Well Christian, I can tell ya, no it isn’t. Godsake. Read 50 Shades yourself and save us from your uselessness.
Christian Grey has grey eyes. Oh for fu- . Ahem.
He uses the beginning of this chapter to introduce DudeBro NumeroUno – His brother, Elliot. ‘This chick is all over my junk and I’ve got to get away’. #LAD. They organise a hike in Portland. Christian is still thinking about the bloody feckin books. Elliot starts a discussion about Christian’s dick. I don’t listen to LADS talking for a reason; this is exactly why. Christian wants to set up a water company – no prizes for guessing what it’s called. Elliot continues to talk about Christian’s dick even though they agreed to not talk about it a page ago. Sigh.
They decide instead of hiking that they will cycle around Portland. Christian sees the bike and remembers that he saved Ana from a rogue cyclist – she could’ve died!!!! – and is all dreamy and wistful. Next he’ll see a glass of water and think ‘Ana probably drinks water’. Get in the bin, Christian. Elliot whines that a girl has texted him four times and called him five. From the sounds of things, Elliot, you’re lucky any girl is interested in you at all. Idiot. Christian spends another few pages wondering when/if/how Ana will call when
Who could it possibly be?!?!?!
Ana is drunk and wanting to know why he sent her first edition books – we all know now it was so he’d have several chapters to muse over them and pine over her – and once Christian realises she’s drunk he immediately thinks she’s with a guy (I WANT TO SLAP YOU AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY). I can’t fathom why a 21 year old out drunk presumably with friends is such a cause for panic but Christian leaps into Control Freak Mode and demands to know where she is. She calls him domineering which fluffs his ego enough that he decides he simply must go fetch her. Except rather than just searching bars in Portland or something, he calls his PI to stalk her once again so he can go ‘rescue’ her.
. Elliot and Christian walk up to the club like whatup I got a big problem with what you’re doing right now. Elliot is conveniently there to conveniently meet Kate and thus conveniently end his wild, womanising ways. Ugh. Christian leaves them seductively smiling at each other or whatever to venture outdoors to rescue his damsel only to find her with the photographer. Gasp! Shock! Horror! How dare she! However, he is there in time to be all no way, José and reject his advances on her behalf as she is a celestial being and has no form capable of caring for herself. I will begrudgingly admit it’s good he stopped José – but the circumstances in which he came to be in that club completely negate any positive spin one could put on Christian’s actions. Ana chooses this moment to projectile vomit the non-existent contents of her stomach and Christian is all mad as he seemingly inspects her puke to determine if she’s eaten that day or not. Wow. WOW. wow. Considering how much she seems to have been sick, i can’t imagine she hasn’t eaten that much – and that’s from experience. Alcohol-induced vomiting on an empty stomach is basically like dry heaving and there wouldn’t have been anything much for her to have thrown up. Yet another poorly researched description. And now that I’ve discussed vomit in depth I would also like to be sick. Moving on. Ana apologises profusely for drunk dialling him and Christian admonishes her for being a 21 year old girl who had never been drunk before, openly chastising her for her behaviour as though she was some sort of tiny dog that he had seized ownership of. Christian lifts her into his arms (I’m actually going to be sick, this isn’t a Disney movie) and lies about how he found her (you’re so determined for her to not keep secrets and yet you can lie to her, how great of you). He puts her down long enough for her to find her bag and shit and drink a glass of water before he feels the need to pick her up again and bring her home to his hotel. Uh … You know where she lives, mate, why not bring her there?! Then this line happens. And it seems to be a summation of their entire relationship. ’“Hello, Ana”, I whisper, as I remove her jacket slowly and without her cooperation.’ I just. I. I can’t. He calls his PI to have a background check done on José (i have no comment to make) and then gets his assistant or one of his assistants to go buy Ana some clothes with measurements so much more accurate than my boyfriend could ever hope to guess mine were that it’s actually terrifying. A few texts are exchanged between Christian and DudeBro, once again discussing with frightening interest whether or not he’s getting laid. I’m concerned about DudeBro. Kinda. And that concludes chapter 5. I was going to do chapter six but quite frankly it’s about 9,000,000,000 degrees and I need to sleep before I become so cranky I fling my kindle out the window, so that’ll be up pretty soon. Sorry if this was a bit rambling too – again, the heat!