Notes from a nervous breakdown

Since I started writing a parody of Fifty Shades of Grey, I thought I should probably finish reading the sodding thing. You see, when I said I’d read Fifty Shades of Grey, I read it in that ‘Eventually if I keep reading it will stop,’ sort of way. I usually finish books out of habit, but sometimes my brain is only partly absorbing the words, especially when every other word is either ‘crap’, ‘impassive’ or ‘murmur’.

After the first few chapters this book blended into a sort of tepid brainstew of boring conversation, smug romance and horribly written sex. On second, and more careful inspection, I discovered that this is more or less exactly what it is. It’s nothing more than two attractive white people playing push-pull bullshit games with one another while continually whining about the hardships of being fantastically, sickeningly rich.

Chapter Six

  • Ana gets in the car with Christian, he drives her home. Mostly complete mimble, only funny is Christian preening about Thomas Tallis.
  • Further mimble about A getting into another car and being delivered to C so that he can dickslap her with the fact that he has a motherfucking helicopter.
  • Oh my God, there are pages of this.
  • Finally they arrive at C’s Seattle apartment which looks a lot like Frasier Crane’s only minus the cute, amusing dog. Shame – Dad and Eddie were my favourite characters.
  • C plays the piano. Beautifully. Vomit.
  • Offers her Pouilly Fume because he’s just that fancy.
  • Further thick-people ‘literary references’ that make Thomas Hardy spin in his grave, especially since paired with smug innuendo laden conversation.
  • C makes A sign a non-disclosure agreement and explains that he does not ‘make love’. He fucks. Hard. Dear God, an actor is going to have to say these lines sometime in the near future.
  • And then he shows her his sex dungeon. \o/

Chapter Seven

  • Welcome to Christian Grey’s Pervorama Kink Party. Only not, because god forbid anyone has any fun with anything in this book, especially not kinky sex.
  • Sex contract is mentioned.
  • Cheese. Seriously. He says “Do you like cheese?” in a sexy way. That happened. I am not making this up.
  • Christian flips his wig when he finds out he’s a virgin.

Chapter Eight

  • They finally bone and she comes twice, as nervous virgins generally do. First orgasm is courtesy of some kind of titty twister and nothing below the waist involved. A woman wrote this?
  • She doesn’t know how masturbate and apparently has a hymen half way up her hoo-hoo. I say again, a woman wrote this?
  • Then they do it doggy style and then he plays the piano.

Chapter Nine

  • Ana cooks C breakfast and gives him flawless oral complete with deepthroating.
  • A woman wrote this?
  • Ana wants to talk to Kate but can’t because of the gag order.
  • Then A & C bone again and he sort of eats her pussy but only as a preamble. I hate this man.

Chapter Ten

  • Christian’s mother shows up. Think Lucille Bluth in a mad haze of Mary-Sue love for our insipid heroine. I don’t care for Ana.
  • All these people do is fuck, angst and make the blandest smalltalk.
  • Jose calls and Christian acts nuts. Christian discovers that A does not own a computer.
  • Then they get in an elevator and get in an expensive car for about four pages and spend two pages driving to a boutique restaurant in the middle of the woods.
  • And then Christian reveals that he was was sexually abused as a teenager but it’s not a big deal because she was a woman and also kind of hot. Gross.
  • Ana is more concerned about whether she measures up to the woman who raped him. Double gross.
  • Then A finally goes home and practically rubs her perfect twat in Kate’s face because she came twice and Kate, like most mere mortals, lost her virginity in an awkward sticky fumble. I hate this woman.
  • Kate’s in love with Emmett or Jasper or whichever Cullen her boyf is supposed to be but it doesn’t matter because their love is normal and therefore not interesting.
  • Then Jose calls again and then Ana goes off and moos about how complicated Christian is – for about three pages. This book is so full of repetitive, unnecessary crap that it’s not even funny anymore.

Chapter Eleven

Full text of their horrid fuck contract. Mmm. Sweet, sweet filler. Oh no, wait – Ana has a little oh-my-god-this-is-nuts moment. Again. For about two pages. Then she has another symbolic dream, this time featuring ‘shackles with intense grey eyes.’ Like the tie in chapter one. I’m beginning to think the author isn’t that bright.

Ana gets a brand new computer, probably built from secret plans found in Steve Jobs desk because Christian is just that rich and exclusive. She then proceeds to e-mail Christian back and forth for several pages. Mmm – filler good.

There’s a completely bizarre paragraph in which Ana meets Jose for coffee and forgives him for trying to feel her up because he’s like a ‘gambolling dark-eyed puppy’ (Used to be a werewolf) with a ‘dazzling toothy all Hispanic-American smile’ and then that’s that. It ends as soon as it begins so that Ana can fuck off home and e-mail Christian with more smarmy references to their horrible sex life.

Chapter Twelve

Ana decides to go for a run. She has never done this before, but the author requires some means of signalling her restlessness because Princess Dingbat doesn’t know how to operate her own clitoris.

More wah wah wah what am I going to do? Kate is apparently going to Barbados. I want to go with Kate but we’re stuck here with misery guts. Boo.

Then something wonderful happens.

ANA BREAKS UP WITH CHRISTIAN!!!

By e-mail. On the computer he bought her. This is truly straight up cunty of her and I’m almost impressed.

Almost. Turns out she likes Snow Patrol. Why does that not surprise me?

Oh, and here’s Mr. Stalky in person. Has he come back to take the computer? No, apparently he’s here to masturbate her earlobe. Really.

“…he tugs my earlobe rhythmically. It’s so sexual.”

He attempts to emotionally manipulate her into taking him back. They have terrible soft-porn sex and he suggests that is she wants to know more about ‘the lifestyle’ she talk to his ex. You know – the one who sexually abused him when he was fifteen.

Everyone in this book needs So. Much. Therapy.

More e-mails. Oh my God. This is only chapter twelve. There are twenty six.

Chapter Thirteen

Some yabber about her Mom not being at her graduation. Paul Clayton (Remember him?) reappears to remind us that everyone wants Ana.

e-mails e-mails e-mails dinner and much ado about absolutely fucking nothing.

OH MY GOD STOP TALKING ABOUT YOUR FUCKING BORING SEX CONTRACT I DON’T CARE I DON’T CARE I DON’T CARE. THEY EAT OYSTERS AND DRINK WINE AND SMARM LIKE PRICKS AT ONE ANOTHER WITH THE CANDLELIGHT GLOWING ON THEIR PERFECT FUCKING CHEEKBONES AND I HATE THEM I HATE THEM I HATE THEM SO MUCH I WANT TO SCREAM. I HATE THAT THIS ‘BOOK’ IS BASICALLY ME BEING FORCED TO WATCH A THICK PERSON PLAY SUPER-RICH SEX BARBIES WITH THE CHARACTERS FROM FUCKING TWILIGHT.

“Would you like some more wine?”

“I have to drive.”

“Some water then?”

I nod.

“Still or sparkling?”

“Sparkling, please.”

The waiter leaves.

“You’re very quiet,” Christian whispers.

“You’re very verbose.”

He smiles. “Discipline. There’s a fine line between pleasure and pain, Anastasia…”

No. Discipline when you put aside your self-indulgence and cut guff like this out of your motherfucking book, so that readers are not tempted to cry or attempt to self- immolate out of sheer desperate boredom.

“There is so much information, so much to process.” Yes, and it’s all bloody irrelevant. Dear God, she even describes the menu in detail.

“I hope you like fish,” Christian says, mildly.

So what were the oysters you were troughing down your moneyed throat five minutes ago? Chopped fucking liver? Okay, so they’re seafood, but ugh. And oysters. It had to be oysters, didn’t it? Like they’re trying to fill out some Crappy Erotic Fiction Cliché bingo card. I expect after dinner they’ll fuck on a bed of rose petals and write bad erotic poetry all over one another’s bare buttocks.

Or not. Oh God. They’re talking about the sex-contract again. I’m so bored. She’s not allowed to masturbate according to the contract, which is ironic because this book is just one long wank.

More e-mails and she’s all ‘Maybe if I do all the horrible shit I don’t like in bed but he does he’ll magically turn into the boyfriend I want.’ This is a healthy and empowering message and in no way a foolproof recipe for a lifetime of misery.

Chapter Fourteen

Ana has now graduated to fuck dreams about riding crops. According to the bar on my Kindle we are not even halfway through the book yet. I want to die. Is anything going to HAPPEN?

Oh, they’re graduating. Oh well – that was a thing. It’s dull but at least it doesn’t involve unnecessary conversations about water.

Ana spaffs her panties because Christian is wearing THAT TIE. Hey ho, here we fucking go again. Hotness blah blah blah.

Kate makes a valedictorian speech and not one word except for the part when she introduces Christian Grey.

Christian then speaks but thankfully he doesn’t pull a Galtse and bang on for seventy pages. Instead he mentions that he once went hungry and Ana is like OH MY GOD ALL MY FORESHADOWINGS MAKE SENSE AT ONCE NO WONDER HE WAS ALWAYS TELLING ME TO EAT.

That or he’s a feeder. I don’t care anymore. I think I hate this book even more when it pretends it has a plot.

She spends the rest of the chapter congratulating herself on figuring something out and feeling what Tumblrites would probably call ‘feels’ for poor abused starving Christian. I honestly don’t know which one of them I hate the most at this point – they’re both charmless, sawdust-filled narcissists, but at least he knows he’s something of a prick. Ana just manages to turn her own tepid self-hatred into a new form of preening.

She introduces her father to Christian and oh look here come a bunch of other minor characters from Twilight with their serial numbers filed off. Dad thinks Christian is great because conflict is interesting and this book is the sworn enemy of all that is interesting.

More e-mails and more Thomas Hardy. Hasn’t Tess been through enough?

Bar says 49% I am so bored. THERE ARE TWENTY SIX CHAPTERS.

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