Okay, now you’re startin’ to piss me off, you piddly sumbitch.

 

Believe it or not, Chapter Four starts off promisingly. After nearly getting run over by a cyclist (Team Cyclist Heading The Wrong Way Up a One-Way Street!), Anastasia is so busy hoping-wishing-begging that Christian will kiss her (silently, of course, because good girls don’t ask for what they want) that she temporarily forgets how to breathe.

Meanwhile, I’m hoping-wishing-begging out loud that Anastasia dies from oxygen deprivation:

…I mean, it’s only fair.

Oh, and then, to make the moment perfect, Christian says the smartest thing anyone’s ever said in this book so far:

“Anastasia, you should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.”

Preach it, you scary motherfucker, preach!

… And then they both ruin it. Christian by telling Anastasia to breathe and Anastasia by not dying.

My hopes… My dreams… Shattered.

Oh, well. After that lovely interlude where I had just started to regain some semblance of hope, we get to see Anastasia castigate herself for Christian not kissing her (because she’s responsible for what he does and doesn’t do, like a good little woman… Excuse me, I’m going to be sick). It’s the usual, really: She’s too stupid, awkward, unpretty, crap at reading signals, inexperienced, desperate… Her “subconscious” really tears into her.

She can’t read signals, by the way, since Christian looks “desolate” as he wishes her luck on her exams, so obviously he’s trying to be a good boy, Anastasia, for chrissake. Or maybe he’s upset that he’s in this book at all? Both are valid interpretations.

Oh, and we have to add one more guy to the “in love with Anastasia for some ungodly reason” list: Random Guy in Chemistry Class. So to recap: Anastasia is “too pale, too skinny, too scruffy, uncoordinated” as well as brick-stupid, yet she’s never been rejected (…until now. High-five, Christian! ) and she has no less than four guys interested in her untouched hoohah… My god, Anastasia. How do you ever deal with the torment.

 

 

Granted, 75% of those guys are certified creepers, but still. You’re not an unlovable monster, Anastasia, kindly get the fuck out of here with that bullshit.

She shares her crushing disappointment with Kate—although I think she would get over it a lot better if she just makes out with Kate after confessing her love, but what do I know? I’m not a bestselling author—and then wonders if Christian is celibate before falling asleep and dreaming of stupid shit. Yeah. Christian is celibate. Because nothing says “monastery living” like ropes, cable ties, and masking tape.

So anyway. After that fuckery’s done with, we get to see Anastasia finish her last exam ever and she says she smiles for the first time that week. Actually, she says she feels “the Cheshire cat grin” spread over her face.

Anastasia pictured here:

 

 

… Ooh, girl, you need to look after your teeth!

Then Kate and Anastasia head home for some celebratory sex, but are distracted by a mysterious package for Anastasia.

Turns out Christian, sticking to his guns and not encouraging Anastasia’s affections at all, has sent her a box of three first edition Tess of the D’Urbervilles, which are apparently worth more than $14,000. I admire your fortitude, Christian. Also, your willingness to spend so much money on a book that Anastasia may be totally sick of. Or not know how to read.

Anastasia resolves to send the books back to Christian and sets out to get fucked up with Kate and her Hispanic friend José. We know José is Hispanic, because he brought margaritas to the party and says “dios mio” a lot.

José also turns out to be a gigantic douchebag of Christian Grey proportions… But we’re getting there.

First, we have to deal with the fact that Anastasia has never drunk before, yet is still conscious after champagne and five margaritas.

Yeeeeeah, not unless she’s Bender, the alcoholic robot.

Anastasia, pictured here?

So then Anastasia pervs on Kate a bit, then decides she needs to go potty. While she’s waiting in line, she decides to drunk dial Christian which is actually sort of hilarious… except then it leads to Christian being a big ol’ stalker again.

Which is good (something I never thought I’d ever say about stalking… fuck you, E.L. James), because José morphs into a cockbag and tries to kiss Anastasia against her will. It is at this exact moment that I realized that E.L. James wants me to hate every single person in this book.

For once, I’m not side-eyeing Anastasia, because she does nothing wrong. In fact, I feel all this secondhand discomfort and I just wanna stab José in the eye with a drink stirrer because WHAT THE FUCK ASSHOLE.

Anyway, then Christian shows up—like a bat, one could say—and rescues Anastasia… Just in time, too, ‘cause Anastasia go boom.

All that lovely frosty nectar comes up, and Anastasia just spews all over the place as Christian holds her hair and José (best. Friend. Ever.) watches, then escapes back into the bar.

Then Christian fucking ruins it more by treating Anastasia like a fucking child.

… I mean, seriously? The chick’s sick and has just been attacked by a friend, and you wanna fucking scold her?!

Go die in a gas fire, Christian, quick as you can.

Then he admits he tracked her cell phone, and Anastasia (‘s “subconscious”) and I say the exact same thing at the exact same moment for the first time ever:

STALKER.

Who does this shit?! Who likes when someone does this shit?! People get restraining orders for less!

But apparently, we’re not dealing with any of it right now, because Anastasia is too out of it to protest as Christian continues to baby her. He makes her drink a glass of water (the right thing to do, if a little douchily done) and then makes her dance (which I don’t—I don’t even fucking know what or why) until she passes out in his arms.

The chapter closes on Christian’s (and my) “fuck!”

 

Fucking English, how does it work?

1. “I’m paralyzed with a strange, unfamiliar need, completely captivated by him.”

Redundant adjectives are redundant.

2. “NO! My psyche screams as he pulls away, leaving me bereft.”

Oh, yay, a new one. At least her subconscious isn’t alone in there.

3. “I have royally screwed up the coffee morning.”

… Shut up. Just shut up.

4. “I sink to the ground, angry at myself for this senseless reaction. Drawing up knees, I fold in on myself. I want to make myself as small as possible. Perhaps this nonsensical pain will be smaller the smaller I am. Placing my head on my knees, I let the irrational tears fall unrestrained. I am crying over the loss of something I never had. How ridiculous. Mourning something that never was—my dashed hopes, dashed dreams, and my soured expectations.”

For god’s sake, woman, he didn’t kiss you after one date. He didn’t leave you at the altar. Yikes.

And if E.L. James keeps abusing that poor thesaurus, I’m gonna have to perform a citizen’s arrest.

5. “ ‘Sure,’ I magic a smile on to my face and stroll over to the laptop.”

“Magic” a smile? Does this involve white doves and a lovely assistant?

6. “ ‘Open it!’ Kate is excited as she heads into the kitchen for our ‘Exams are finished hurrah Champagne’.”

I will never understand why this woman just can’t keep a fucking sentence simple. You’re not clever. Stop trying to be clever. Fuck.

7. “ ‘Anastasia, where are you, tell me now.’ His tone is so, so dictatorial, his usual control freak. I imagine him as an old time movie director wearing jodhpurs, holding an old fashioned megaphone and a riding crop.”

8. “ ‘Please, Ana, cariña,’ he whispers against my lips.”

Okay, I wasn’t gonna pick anything from this scene because it skeeves the fuck out of me, but I would just like to tell E.L. James to stick to butchering her own language and leave mine the fuck alone. Thank you, and good night.

9. “My subconscious is figuratively tutting and glaring at me over her half moon specs.”

10. “In the back of my mind, my mother’s often-recited warning comes to me: Never trust a man who can dance.”

What? Why? Is this a thing I don’t know about?

 

Shut the fuck up, Anastasia

“And it’s suddenly, blindingly obvious. He’s too gloriously good-looking. We are poles apart and from two very different worlds. I have a vision of myself as Icarus flying too close to the sun and crashing and burning as a result.”

 

Christian Grey, AA Counselor

“ ‘We’ve all been here, perhaps not quite as dramatically as you,’ he says dryly. ‘It’s about knowing your limits, Anastasia. I mean, I’m all for pushing limits, but really this is beyond the pale. Do you make a habit of this kind of behavior?’”

I will PAY YOU to be less awkward…

 

In Chapter Three of Fifty Shades of Shit, we are “treated” to Anastasia and Christian having a first date. At least I think it was a date…

But let’s start at the beginning. Now, in Chapter Two, during the whole hardware thing, Anastasia and Christian made a sort of agreement to arrange a photo shoot for Kate’s (no doubt hard-hitting) article on Christian.

No need for an entire photo shoot, 50 Shades of Suck was more than happy to provide his headshot:

 

 

So Anastasia calls Kate from the stockroom at work (I would’ve fired her ass for wasting company time, but hey) and tells her all about it. Kate rightly guesses that Christian being in the store was not such a random crazy happenstance, Anastasia is clueless again, and then they decide to have José do the photo shoot, because it’d be funny to show him just who his rival is when it comes to Anastasia’s affections.

Actually, it’s because the regular newspaper photographer can’t do it, and we all know that Kate has a history of delegating  to non-newspaper affiliated personnel.

After finishing the phone call with Kate, Paul comes in and catches Anastasia stealing time and asks her out. Anastasia says no, because she prefers possible serial killers, and “escape[s]” as Paul creepily promises that one day she’ll succumb to his advances.

 

So then there is a jarring—I don’t know… Do you call it a segue if it’s not done smoothly at all? I mean, I tend to think of segues as things you sort of slip into like a slinky dress. There needs to be a word for segues that are not that. Can I say “segues” any more?! Yes, I can: Segues.

Anyway, there is a not-a-segue in which Anastasia tries to convince José to do the damn photo shoot and José hilariously groans: “But I do places, Ana, not people.”

Kate ends up being the one to convince him to do people just this once, and then it is time for Anastasia to call Christian and tell him what’s what. Kate observes Anastasia’s reaction during the phone call and rightly concludes that Christian Grey revs Anastasia’s motor, something that we have all known for three motherfucking chapters now.

Anyway, nothing terribly important happens, and Anastasia can’t sleep well because she has wet dreams again. Seriously, Anastasia,

(Source)

The next day dawns, and it is time to go shoot the hell out of Christian Grey (sadly, not with a gun). So the gang heads to… You know? I’ll let Anastasia take over:

“José, Travis, and I are traveling in my Beetle, and Kate is in her CLK, since we can’t all fit in my car. Travis is José’s friend and gopher, here to help out with the lighting.”

… I’m sorry, Travis is who? José’s friend and gopher?!

“Gopher,” she says!

I’m sure you could’ve all fit in the Beetle if Kate held Travis in her lap. Although how he’ll help with the lighting without opposable thumbs is a mystery. LOL. Gopher.

They get to the hotel, set up, and Christian arrives with some guy. Introductions are made, and predictably, José and Christian don’t become BFFs because apparently every single guy in this book becomes a possessive prick when it comes to Anastasia.

So the photo shoot happens and Christian takes his leave… but not before asking Anastasia to have a cup of coffee with him. Anastasia throws up a half-hearted excuse, and Grey rips through it like he will rip through other things in the future… I’ve heard.

So Anastasia goes back into the suite to swap cars with Kate and let her know where she’s going, and Kate once again says what everyone knows but adds that she doesn’t trust Grey. She says he’s dangerous, especially to someone like Anastasia. I was assuming she meant someone incredibly stupid, but she meant “innocent.” Which is another way of saying stupid, I guess.

Something tells me she meant big, honking VIRGIN, but why she couldn’t say the “V” word is a mystery to me. I also don’t know what she thinks Grey is gonna do in a coffee shop in the morning, especially knowing that Anastasia has now told Kate where she’s going, why, and with whom, but caffeine is a hell of a drug?

So then Anastasia blushes another billion times—without bursting into flames somehow—as she has her date with Christian. The date is more like an interrogation, as Christian asks about Kate, José, Paul, her parents, her mother’s marital history, Ray, if she would like to go to Paris, and if she always wears jeans.

I don’t fucking know what the jeans thing is about, and I honestly don’t even think I wanna know.

Things Anastasia tells Christian Grey on their first date:

• she finds him intimidating (to which he responds “you should find me intimidating.” Dickhead.)
• that he’s very high-handed
• that her father died when she was a baby
• how many times her mother’s remarried
• that Ray likes “European soccer,” bowling, fly-fishing, and making furniture. Also that he’s a carpenter and used to be in the Army.
• the she chose Ray over her mom when her mom met her third husband.

She does manage to ask him personal questions, too, but Christian is a little more circumspect than she is when it comes to sharing family history.

Then Anastasia remembers that she should be studying and the date is over.

Oh, Anastasia gets to ask if he has a girlfriend, to which he douchily replies that he doesn’t “do the girlfriend thing.”

Anastasia reacts so strongly to this that she stumbles into the street and almost gets run over by a cyclist.

Someone needs to stick that chick in a plastic bubble. For real, though.

Don’t worry, folks—Christian saves her, and the chapter ends with Anastasia desperately wanting him to kiss her. Gag me with every motherfucking spoon ever made.

 

Fucking English, how does it work?

1. “I’ve never considered it a good idea to date the boss’s brother, and besides, Paul is cute in a wholesome all-American boy-next-door kind of way, but he’s no literary hero, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is Grey? My subconscious (reviewer: Nope) asks me, her eyebrow figuratively raised. I slap her down.”

… I can already tell that this “subconscious” bullshit is gonna drive me to drink. And of course it’s figurative, you fucking dolt.

2. “ ‘Listen here, José Rodriquez, if you want our newspaper to cover the opening of your show, you’ll do this shoot for us tomorrow, capiche?’ Kate can be awesomely tough.”

… Or awesomely a bitch. And what in the fucking hell is José’s last name? Is it “Rodriquez” or “Rodriguez”? And it’s “capisce.” It’s not technically English, but if you’re gonna use other languages in your crappy book, at least get it right.

3. “I can almost hear his sphinx-like smile through the phone.”

I… what?!

4. “I am all gushing and breathy—like a child, not a grown woman who can vote and drink legally in the State of Washington.”

5. “ ‘TAYLOR,’ he calls, making me jump.”

LOL. I love when people try to use internet conventions in published works non-ironically. Wait. No. No, I don’t.

6. “Grey smiles a dazzling, unguarded, natural, all-teeth-showing, glorious smile.”

I am starting a home for abused adjectives.

7. “Surprised and embarrassed, they jump apart, staring guiltily in every direction but ours.”

stare

verb (used without object)

1.

to gaze fixedly and intently, especially with the eyes wide open.

8. “He has a coffee which bears a wonderful leaf-pattern imprinted in the milk. How do they do that? I wonder idly.”

WHO GIVES A SHIT?!

 

Shut the fuck up, Anastasia

“ ‘ Kate, he’s just trying to be nice.’ But even as I say the words, I know they’re not true—Christian Grey doesn’t do nice. He does polite, maybe. A small quiet voice whispers, perhaps Kate is right. My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me. After all, he did say he was glad Kate didn’t do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment.”

 

Christian Grey, King of Douchehall Mountain

“ ‘I’m used to getting my own way, Anastasia,’ he murmurs. ‘In all things.’”

In which Christian Grey is as unsubtle as fucking possible, yet Anastasia remains completely clueless.

 

“No man has ever affected (reviewer’s interjection: thank the gods she got that word right!) me the way Christian Grey has, and I cannot fathom why.”

Easy. You’re horny.

Literally everyone knows what that feels like, except woman-child Anastasia Steele. Because she’s a dumbass.

To my everlasting dismay, the second chapter starts exactly where the first one left off. I’m not even kidding. At the end of the first chapter, Anastasia gets on an elevator, and at the beginning of the second, she’s getting off it—no wait. She scrambles off it and stumbles… once.

I think she may have an inner-ear problem.

I have no idea why James decided to add that scene, by the way, because it added fuck-all to anything. Then again, this entire book adds fuck-all to anything.

After indulging in another whole bunch of adjectives (Christian is “attractive, confident, commanding […] arrogant […] autocratic, and accomplished”), Anastasia realizes that she’s driving carefully because Christian told her to.

So like a true teenager, she presses down on the accelerator (or, you know… floors the pedal to the metal) and goes as fast as she wants. On (possibly) a rain-slicked highway.

Oh, and she “[switches] on the MP3 player (reviewer’s reaction: *sigh*) and [turns] the volume up loud, [sits] back, and [listens] to thumping indie rock music” as she speeds toward certain death.

Indie rock music?

You’re listening to “A Thousand Miles” and singing along with Vanessa Carlton. Dork.

Quick note: for a while now, the book has been referring to Anastasia as “Ana.” I won’t do that because my best friend’s name is Ana and I love her too much to link her in any way to the walking pile of fail that is that character. So she will remain Anastasia. Or dumbass. Or dolt. Anything but Ana.

So that’s done. Let’s move on.

Anastasia gets home and—okay. Let’s talk about Anastasia’s home. Apparently, Kate’s parents bought the place for her—bought it—and Kate lets Anastasia stay there almost rent-free. I do believe I hate every single person in this book now.

Anyway, dumbass gets home and notices that Kate’s wearing pink flannel pajamas with bunnies on it, the pjs she reserves for “the aftermath of breaking up with boyfriends, for assorted illnesses (ew), and for general moody depression (???????).” What, exactly, is a “moody depression”? What are the symptoms? Better yet, what is a non-moody depression?

I just don’t fucking know anymore.

So then Anastasia gets miffed at Kate for making her ask Christian Grey if he’s gay (debatable) and not really giving her any preliminary background before sending her off into the Den of Douche, which—good point. Friends don’t let stupid friends conduct horrifyingly awkward interviews.

Then we learn that Anastasia works at a hardware store (nope. Not even gonna say “wtf?” Everything is wtf. Everything), and that she’s awesome at it, even though she’s chronically useless at… well, life.

Then she goes back home, and Kate teases her about Grey having the hots for her and then… I don’t know. I think I fell asleep here.

Then Anastasia reminds us that she totally reads, you guys!

… And then falls asleep. This has been several pages of useless filler now, for those keeping track at home.

Then a week goes by, Anastasia tells us about her “fundamentally” bored mother and her marital history, and then she talks about Ray, her stepfather, who raised her. All we know about him is that he doesn’t talk so much as grunt which makes me think this:

And that he’s a carpenter, which makes me think this:

So now Ray is an old Xander Harris in my mind. Oh, and all is well with him.

After that strange interlude, we meet José, Anastasia’s friend who is—of course—in love with Anastasia and is a photographer. Anastasia don’t want none of him, of course, and instead muses how she wishes she had a love that was all hers, someone like a character in a book. I suggest him:

Knock yourself out, Anastasia!

The next day Christian Grey shows up at the hardware store, proving that (a) he’s some kind of weirdo stalker and (b) there is no god.

Things Christian Grey “stocks up on”:

• Cable ties
• Masking tape
• Rope
• Coveralls (at Anastasia’s suggestion)

Now, me, being capable of higher-order thinking, can process the information given to me (the things Christian Grey wants to buy, how creepily he flirts while acquiring them, and the unlikelihood that he’s a contractor) and conclude that Christian Grey is either this:

Or this:

 

Neither very desirable.

Anastasia, however, thinks that he’s redecorating or feeding the world or something.

Then we meet Paul, Anastasia’s boss’ brother, who also is in love with Anastasia because why the fuck not at this point, and Christian practically pees on her leg to mark his territory.

Then he leaves and Anastasia finally admits to herself that she likes him.

… Oh, thank god. We’re done.

 

Fucking English, how does it work?

1. “Oh, no—here we go, the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition”

No one expects the—no. No. You don’t deserve it.

2. “I slump on the couch, thinking about the essay I have to finish and all the studying I haven’t done today because I was holed up with… him.”

How dramatic. Must he not be named now?

3. “Kate is busy too, compiling her last edition of her student magazine before she has to relinquish it to the new editor while also cramming for her finals.”

Holy run-ons, Batman! I’m exhausted just reading that.

Are we done now? Can we rest?

4. “José is the first person I met when I arrived at WSU, looking as lost and lonely as I did.We recognized a kindred spirit in each of us that day, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

Recognized a kindred spirit in each of us that day. In each of us. In each of us.

… I trust I’ve made my point. And you’re mixing tenses, too, you fuck knob.

5. “Until very recently, the unwelcome, still small voice of my subconscious whispers.”

Oh, it’s still small? Hasn’t grown at all. That’s a shame. Maybe you should give it some vitamins or something. Also, you cannot be aware of your subconscious. That is not your subconscious. You are hearing voices, and I suggest you seek help.

6. “His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel… or something.”

WHAT IS THIS I DON’T EVEN

7. “And from a very tiny, underused part of my brain—probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata where my subconscious dwells—comes the thought: he’s here to see you.”

8. “I must be the color of the communist manifesto.”

I hate you, E.L. James.

 

Shut the fuck up, Anastasia

“Katherine often teases me that I’m missing the need-a-boyfriend gene, but the truth is—I just haven’t met anyone who… well, whom I’m attracted to, even though part of me longs for those trembling knees, heart-in-my-mouth, butterflies-in-my-belly, sleepless nights.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake,

 

Christian Grey, Part-Time Serial Killer

“He gazes at the selection of cable ties we stock at Clayton’s. What on Earth is he going to do with those? I cannot picture him as a do-it-yourselfer at all. His fingers trail across the various packages displayed, and for some inexplicable reason, I have to look away. He bends and selects a packet.

‘These will do,’ he says with his oh-so-secret smile, and I blush.”

…Where “oh-so-secret” means “creepy.” Run, you idiot!

Dear god, what have I gotten myself into?!

 

I blame this—as well as so many other things—on Stephenie Meyer. Some people have wet dreams, tell someone about ‘em, and then just go on about their day, but no. Not Stephenie fucking Meyer. She writes the worst teen romance ever, and in the process inspires the worst fanfic ever, which becomes the tripe I’m starting this blog with:

That shit says “bestseller” on it! Bestseller.

The book itself starts with our fearless heroine scowling at herself in the mirror. No, wait… “scowling with frustration” at herself in the mirror. Apparently, her hair is unruly and she hates being a good friend. Because don’t ever doubt it, my friends… Anastasia Steele is an asshole.

See, Anastasia’s friend/roommate/secret crush Kate got sick with the flu to spite her, and then had the gall to ask her for a favor. And speaking of this favor—what the fuck. That’s not a question.

Kate is a journalist or something, and she has an interview with Christian Grey who’s the King of Douchehall Mountain (or the CEO of some big company. Same diff), but since she’s sick she asks Anastasia to go, which makes absolutely NO FUCKING SENSE because Anastasia is not a journalist, and judging by her inner monologue, doesn’t even know how the English language works. If journalists were even allowed to pass their stories on to other people (they may, I have no idea), wouldn’t those other people have to—oh, I don’t know—work at the same paper?

Anyway, whatever. Suspension of disbelief, I guess.

So after briefly demonstrating that Anastasia is totally gay for her friend, E.L. James sends her on a journey to Seattle to meet Christian Grey, CEO of Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc (Worst. Company name. Ever). She then describes, at length, every fucking thing in the damn building as well as the building itself.

Oh, by the way, if you wanna know what Anastasia looks like:

“I roll my eyes in exasperation and gaze at the pale, brown-haired girl with blue eyes too big for her face staring back at me, and give up.”

I’m thinking this:

… In which case, die in every fire ever, Anastasia.

But then her outfit (“I have made an effort and worn my one and only skirt, my sensible brown knee-length boots and a blue sweater.”) makes it sound more like this:

… So adjust brains accordingly. Maybe she’s the freakish love-child of Zooey Twee-schanel and Anne Hathaway.

Where was I? Oh, right. Anastasia is let in (another fucking shocker. If this guy is as important as the book keeps trying to beat into my head, wouldn’t security be tighter?) and she meets the Stepford blondes. I actually quite liked that comment. I then got dizzy and had to take deep breaths because that shocked me so much I almost passed out.

And then shit gets real. After pausing to describe the guy that walks out of Grey’s office ( “tall, elegantly dressed, attractive African-American man with short dreads”), it’s the Moment of Truth.

Anastasia gets up, walks to the office and pushes open the door… and then falls head-first into the office.

OMGZ, YOU GUYS! SHE’S JUST LIKE US! SHE DOESN’T KNOW HOW LEGS WORK!

It’s all downhill from there as Miss Graceful stumbles through the worst interview ever and basically pervs on Christian Grey.

By the way? Christian Grey sounds like a complete cockbag. Anastasia thinks so, too, because “omg, he is so arrogant!” is repeated like, eight million times. WE GET IT, OKAY?! MOVE ON.

Grey keeps it creepy by turning the interview around on Anastasia—she’s not that interesting, Christian, give it up—practically offering her a job, and then telling her how to drive. As if she was a child.

Actually—Anastasia is a little dumb, so maybe he has a point there.

Then Christian makes a funny, and Anastasia awkwardly leaves.

I’m not even sure who I’m supposed to like and why. Fuck this book, dude. Just… Ugh.

 

Fucking English, how does it work?

And now we’ve come to the part of the review where we collect sentences from E.L. James’ masterpiece and just despair that we’ll ever make it as a species.

1. “I cannot believe I have let Kate talk me into this. But then Kate can talk anyone into anything. She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful—and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.”

Okay, first of all? Anastasia needs to tell Kate that she’s in love with her. Second of all, E.L. loves adjectives more than she loves shitty fiction.

   2.    “Fortunately, Kate’s lent me her sporty Mercedes CLK. I’m not sure Wanda, my old VW Beetle, would make the journey in time. Oh, the Merc is a fun drive, and the miles slip away as I floor the pedal to the metal.”

Don’t call it a “Merc,” you fucking twit. Also, you either “floor it” or you “put the pedal to the metal.” It’s like you don’t know what words mean.

  3.  “Olivia returns with a glass of iced water.”

… That’s ice.

4. “ ‘Did Kate, I mean, Miss Kavanagh, explain what the interview was for?’ ‘Yes. To appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year’s graduation ceremony.’”

NO ONE TALKS LIKE THAT. I just—I…

5. “ ‘ My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail.’”

Christ. Even the sentences are awkward in this fucking book.

6. “Which I should be studying for now rather than sitting in your palatial, swanky, sterile office, feeling uncomfortable under your penetrating gaze.”

Will someone please get the thesaurus away from this woman?!

 

Shut the fuck up, Anastasia

“Surely it’s obvious that I’m just visiting. I don’t fit in here at all. Nothing changes, I inwardly sigh.”

Anastasia:

 

 

Christian Grey, Master of the Universe

“Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things.”

Ugh… I hate myself so much right now, y’all don’t even know…

 

 

 

 

 

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