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!