Folks, we have just three chapters left. Baring any sort of catastrophe, I’ll be done by the weekend. Several people so far have asked if I’m going to be doing the other two books in the trilogy. No. Frankly, it’s a chore to get through these last two weeks. Bashing this book was fun at first, but now it’s just the same sucks, repeated over and over. It’s exhausting to get through, and I don’t want to touch any more of EL James’s writing.
However, the point of this tumblr is to make fun of bad books, and that won’t end at 50 Shades. I have a few terrible books on my nightstand that could be contenders, but if you guys have anything that you really want to see picked apart, mention it in the comments and I’ll add it to the running.
Ana wakes up (8th time!) after having a dream about Grey in a cage. Grey has woken her up at dawn because he has some surprise worked out for her.
Freud would have a field day – and then he’d probably expire trying to deal with Fifty Shades.
Honey, Freud saw more in his life (and did more with his life) than Grey could ever imagine. Freud would probably look at Christian Grey and say “what, really? That’s all you’ve got? Damnit, and here I was hoping for an actual challenge.” Your boyfriend is really not as complex as you think he is.
They eat breakfast and banter, only it takes two pages for the book to get through it. Yay, more spanking jokes, haven’t seen that every other page, yet. And then it’s more sports cars and more classical music and more Grey being awesome. Yawn.
They talk more in the car about this nebulous ‘more,’ and Ana acts all shocked when he says that ‘never wanted more’ before Ana, even though this is..what, the fourth or fifth time we’ve had that revelation? God, book, just move on already. It wasn’t impressive the first time, and it’s not getting more impressive with repetition.
Mrs. Robinson finally gets a real name: Elena.
Holy Fuck. The evil one has a name and its all-foreign sounding.
Fuck you and your racism, book. Fuck you to hell.
They talk more about his Past Fifteen, and Grey again repeats that it just ‘didn’t work out,’ which frankly should be enough of an answer. Ana, however, does not agree and keeps pressing as if this information will be vitally important to anything at all.
Grey is going to take her gliding. Um…good thing she’s not afraid of heights or falling to her death? I mean, isn’t this the sort of thing you don’t really spring on someone at the last minute? Not everyone enjoys flying in a rickety little aluminum frame with nothing but the dubious safety of someone else’s harness keeping one connected to a flimsy piece of nylon that’s god-knows-how-old. (You can probably guess what my opinion on the practice is.)
But, it seems Ana is okay with anything as long as Grey is involved, so he’ll never have to spare any thoughts to whether or not she would like something.
The book throws a lot of technical jargon at us, and since I think gliders are made of death waiting to happen, I don’t know how accurate any of it is. What I do know is that I don’t fucking care. A bunch of random terms all shoved into one paragraph might show off that you did your research, but it doesn’t add anything to the story.
They spend several pages getting ready to go, then finally their tow plane takes off and they’re flying. It’s described like someone saw a picture of someone gliding. There’s no emotion to it, no description of feelings or sensations. The text is just all about how stuff looks. Boring. A big draw of books over stuff like TV and movies is that you can engage more than just two senses. Having a scene in a book just be a litany of what things look and sound like is only using two-fifths of the power available to you as a writer.
Holy fuck – it’s exciting.
That doesn’t count.
Grey does some tricks, including going upside down, and I would punch him in the face for that, but Ana just giggles. Alright, fine, I’m sure there’s loads of people who would find that fun, but he could have at least asked first.
“That was extraordinary. Thank you,” I whisper.
“Was it more?” he asks, his voice tinged with hope.
“Much more,” I breathe, and he grins.
Wait, that’s her ill-defined ‘more’? Just a grand gesture that has jack-all to do with romance? So, he can still treat her like shit, so long as he gives her cool stuff in the process? How the fuck does that constitute a relationship, which is what I was assuming they meant by ‘more’? It’s bullshit. And it’s not even that impressive. He’s a billionaire, so the cost was pocket-change, and it wasn’t something Ana wanted to do, it was something he wanted to do. Basically, if Ana had never come along, Grey still would have gone gliding on occasion, just this time he took another person with him. It’s a meaningless gesture.
I flush some more. He’s as patronizing as ever.
Of course, that won’t keep you from wanting to sleep with him in the middle of a field.
But instead of sex, they go to IHOP. Seems Grey is so pretty that the waitress can’t even get a full sentence out around him. Ana decides she would rather have sex than food, continuing this supremely uncomfortable subplot in which Ana never fucking eats. (And seems to think that lust is the antithesis of appetite. Why can’t she have breakfast and sex? Because only skinny girls are sexy? Is that it? Fuck you, book.)
Grey and Ana talk about the state of their relationship again.
"We can make this work, I’m sure. I want you submissive in my playroom. I will punish you if you digress from the rules. Other than that… well, I think it’s all up for discussion."
Apparently this constitutes a compromise, but…how? He’s not giving anything up. Playroom Antics and Rules, that’s all that was covered in the contract. They’re not altering the contract at all, just tacking on a bit at the end about relationships. Which seems pretty fucked up, because shouldn’t those two things be pretty well integrated in a healthy relationship?
But Ana treats this like it’s some huge concession on his part, and she says all she wants is to sleep in his bed.
Ana asks if she can pay for breakfast (she does end up eating it, thank god) because she wants to do something nice for him.
“Are you trying to completely emasculate me?”
“This is probably the only place that I’ll be able to afford to pay.”
“Anastasia, I appreciate the thought. I do. But no.”
It’s not ‘emasculating’ to have someone buy you breakfast. Also, how is this any different from earlier in the book, where she said “Don’t buy me things” and he said “Get over it, and don’t let society tell you how to feel about stuff.” Hey, Grey, don’t let society tell you it’s wrong to let a woman pay for your food, and if you really appreciate a nice gesture from your girlfriend, then accept it with grace. Fucker.
Grey takes her home, where Carla is stressing out about dinner that night. Ana and Grey banter over email about how she talks in her sleep. I’m fascinated, really. Tell me more.
Grey withholds telling her exactly what she said, but really, who the fuck cares? Somniloquy is a common (ish) disorder and is perfectly harmless, and Ana even mentions that it’s not a new thing for her. People who talk in their sleep don’t often make sense, and very often don’t even make words. She probably sounded about as logical as whatever dream she was having. (I still vividly remember the night my mom sat up in her bed, shouted “CHARGE!” and then calmly went back to sleep. I also knew a girl once who could count in German in her sleep without error, but stumbled through her numbers while conscious. This condition is often hilarious, but not very profound.)
Bob has volunteered to man the BBQ grill. What is it about men and fire, I ponder
Considering I just got done BBQing my lunch, I’m extra-offended at this trope. Girls like fire, too. And everyone likes a nice grilled steak. Except vegetarians. (But hey, those grilled veggie burgers can be good, too.)
While at the supermarket, Ana gets a call informing her that she got the job at the bohemian place where she went to interview. Is anyone surprised? Especially considering we only got to see one out of her three interviews.
Then right after Grey calls to say something called him back to Seattle, so he can’t make it to dinner.
Oh no. The last ‘situation’ he had was my virginity. Jeez, I hope it’s nothing like that.
I gaze at my mom. Her earlier jubilation has metamorphosed into concern.
Carla has no personality whatsoever. When Ana is happy, Carla bounces up and down with joy. When Ana is worried, Carla looks concerned. She’s just a mirror for Ana’s feelings who occasionally spouts off bland advice.
Later that day, Ana spontaneously thinks that Elena is the ‘situation’ that made Grey leave, and she fantasizes about killing the other woman.
…Okay, Grey is the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. Does it not once cross her mind that this could be business related, whatever it is? Granted, the man does apparently have the free time to jet across the country on a whim, but still. It should at least be considered as an option.
But in Ana’s world, nothing exists outside of Ana, Grey, and Sex, and if something interferes with Ana/Grey, then it must be Sex, because that’s all that’s left. Starving kids in Dafur? Psh, please.
They banter over emails, and Grey refuses to tell her what the situation is or what she said in her sleep. I must admit, I do kind of like the email bantering throughout this book. It’s the only time these two are funny. It’s just that the emails are also completely fucking pointless.
I’d rather hear you say the words that you uttered in your sleep when you’re conscious, that’s why I won’t tell you.
She said “I love you.” We can all get that, but I’m sure Ana won’t understand for…well, I hope soon, we’ve only got two chapters left. Also, how cliché.