A Series of Exploratory Rants: VII

Seeing as I am currently… Indisposed, shall we say, I thought – what better way to waste my time/ expel some pent-up rage than by continuing my dissection of the worst book I have EVER read?!

I’m really rather hoping no one asks me what I’m up to, as ‘reading mainstream erotica’ probably won’t go down well…

(sidenote: I was marginally enthusiastic about writing about this balderdash, but now that I’ve actually sat down to write I am feeling more deflated than the pillow I’ve settled back against)

May 22nd, 2011

Christian wakes, feeling guilty. Because he fucked Ana. A virgin. You know, in case the past eight excruciating chapters weren’t repetitive enough and you missed that vital, eh, ‘plot point’, Ana is undeniably a virgin. A virgin. Ana.

(I am going to side step what would be a long winded diatribe detailing how virginity is just a social construct and isn’t something you ‘lose’; same way as the first time you use a toaster no one goes ‘LOOk! THE TOASTER VIRGIN POPPED HER TOAST!’ and you don’t walk around feeling like oh everyone’s going to judge me/congratulate me on using a toaster for the first time or ask me about my experiences using the toaster or think I am stupid for only having used a toaster once.. the principles of toasters should be applied to sexual discovery.)

I am utterly exasperated by the rubbish that spews out of Christian’s head and spills itself onto perfectly good print paper. He has no original thoughts. He just goes around and around in circles thinking the same things. Really, this book should be about Christian tackling the concepts of rumination and diminished morality, as well as addressing his controlling nature that has absolutely nothing to do with BDSM and everything to do with him being an asshole.

C: ‘with a lingering look at the enticing woman in my bed, I venture into the kitchen. I’m thirsty.’

I’ll bet you’re thirsty, Christian, you attention-seeking hoebag (as in, bag of hoes, not as in prostitutes. I literally mean a receptacle for garden hoes)

A few more pages pass with C drinking water and playing piano (of COURSE he plays piano. He’s basically a sycophantic, R-rated, stereotypical YA hero) while thinking more about the social construct that is virginity and how he both propositioned and fucked a virgin, tricking the poor readers into believing he is a man with morals instead of a controlling sociopath.

A: That was a most melancholy melody


And then, this happens:

‘There’s blood on the sheets. Her blood. Evidence of her now-absent virginity’

What’s that sound? Oh, it’s the sexual education mobile, bursting onto the scene!

Newsflash: Women aren’t really supposed to bleed first time. It can happen, but it’s not actually that common. No, really. It’s also not meant to hurt. Typically a young woman will be ‘dehymenised’ through physical activity. There’s still a possibility of bleeding during sex the first time, but that’s probably more attributable to accidental injury than the myth of becoming dehymenised. This makes me question James’ qualifications to write this book in the first place, as it appears to be like a man explaining in great detail what it’s like to lactate and getting the facts wildly wrong, because it is something he has never experienced… ;

insert Wayne’s World dream sequence doodly-doo sound here

It’s time for yet another Christian Grey dream sequence!

‘mommy is happy today. She is singing. Sing about what love has to do with it.’

etc etc, blah blah blah. Okay, look. C obviously had a troubled childhood. His mother was obviously either ill or an addict, but these dream sequences are lacklustre at best and I am tired of the simplified nature of the pressing issue James is trying to convey.

Then he conveniently wakes and find Ana has taken it upon herself to impose herself on his kitchen and make breakfast. Bumbling and devoid of underwear, she has convenient hair braids and bounces around the kitchen like the hapless, clumsy tit we all know her to be. There’s a very boring description of eggs and placemats etc and then Ana learns that sexual intercourse does not just occur at night (which put me in mind of a Jeremy Kyle-esque scenario: ‘Did you or did you not know you could have sexual intercourse at any time of the day?’)

Following this is some pissing about where Christian asks Ana to stay and then hums and haws about whether or not he ACTUALLY meant for her to stay or if he really wants her to stay. Hey Christian, why don’t you instead think of reasons why you are an abhorrent human being?

He bullies Ana into eating on the basis of some horrifically over-foreshadowed scenario in which we can safely assume he went without food for some period of time due to his mother’s illness/addiction, which for any other sort of person would be sad and harrowing to read and find out about/ awful for any child to go through, Christian makes it very easy to lose all sense of compassion for him just by thinking moronic things. And then we become interrupted by Ana’s shocking revelation:

A: ‘I won’t mention The Red Room Of Pain’

No?? no, no. No. Ana, my darling. Why in the name of God’s shiny arse are you allowing yourself to be open to being thrown around a room you are calling A ROOM OF PAIN??

Here is where my miniscule understanding of the sort of people that read this drivel checks out completely. I cannot understand why a person would willingly get involved in this sort of relationship without knowing or trusting the other person, or being fully aware of the consequences/outcomes/intricacies of getting into a Dom/sub  relationship – it seems to me that Ana is hopeless and desperate for love, is mildly infatuated with Christian because of his dashing good looks (and hopefully not because of his winning personality because HE DOESN’T HAVE ONE) and is just looking for someone to love her because she’s never had it. I’ll bet most people have had some kind of infatuation – whether with a real life person or with a celebrity or something, where they’ve felt they’d accept any kind of attention as long as it was coming from the object of their desire. I say object, because that’s what it boils down to: objectification of an individual without any sort of consideration of who they <i> really <i/> are.

Moving on.

He brings her into the bath and does that really awful thing that typical fuckbois on the internet do, but instead of tipping the virtual fedora and saying ‘m’lady’, he keeps calling her ‘Miss Steele’ which gives me the heebie-jeebies.

C: ‘I can claim another first’

Are the government handing out medals now C? ‘FIRST BATHING EXPERIENCE WITH AN EX-VIRGIN’ award goes to YOU!!!…. you insufferable moron.

Christian then takes time washing her, which i suppose is in preparation for his future job in nursing at an old folk’s home – after the brain transplant, of course.

C: ‘I want you to become acquainted, on first-name terms, if you will, with my favourite and most cherished part of my body.’


C: is it that I’m enjoying all her firsts?

You ol’ Conquistador, you. Look at you, claiming a woman as you would land, or a prize. You are SO 21st century.

There is some sort of monstrous description of fellatio that doesn’t seem possible in a filled bath, but as we’ve seen, nothing really makes sense in the world of Grey so rather than throw up in my mouth trying to read it in detail to ascertain how this was possible, I will skip over that major minor plot hole nd instead highlight a few awful awful sentences I extracted wading through the rest of the chapter:

C: where my tongue explores the taste and depth of her navel

Unless her bellybutton was filled with jellybeans or chocolate or something, I can’t think of any reason why anyone would want to taste a navel. Surely it just tastes like skin?

C: ‘Anticipating my tongue at the apex of her thighs’

I know I’ve read reviews where this was discussed but APEX is the LEAST sexiest word that has ever existed. Ever.

C: ‘I can take you to places you don’t know exist’

What, like Canada? given how vapid she is, she probably isn’t aware of more than 6 of the 50 states so really, that wouldn’t be too difficult.

C: ‘I resolve to call Blandio to solve this issue’

Now I may be missing some cultural significance of the name, but it’s almost as though James went, ‘well this character must be pretty bland, and European/South American, probably… Bland…Bland…ino. Yeah, that’ll do’

A: research?

C: You’d be amazed what you could find on the Internet

C, don’t you know by now that Ana doesn’t even know how to turn on a computer? She has never heard of the internet??

C: ‘her roomate would have my balls if she knew my real intentions’

aaaand this is the point where you let your moral compass point you to the words ‘the end’ and this story is over, Christian!!

There’s another awkward meal description where Ana doesn’t eat anything at all and christian admonishes her for it

Then an awkward, unnecessary email sent to Ana that could be omitted if, for example, super rich Christian could figure out how to use iMessage on the ‘Apple laptops’ he organised for them both, or facebook, or indeed some generic form of instant messager. Anything but email, really.

He finishes out the chapter reading a book on Economics of Poor People (might not be the actual title but it’s what I’m thinking it probably is called) and makes a big song and dance about settling down to read – but not before foreshadowing some sort of horrible childhood memory that we are to learn about in the next few chapters – a process which could be sped up if he’d stop dicking about thinking about Ana’s legs or whatever.

And DONE! These are getting harder and harder to slog through. I am exceptionally ready for bed. Sort of proves it is an excellent bedtime story – makes so little sense you fall asleep.

See you on the flip side.

As always, all other Grey posts can be found here. Any suggestions/requests/comments/complaints – hit me with them!


Have your say!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s