Trout Nation Posts

My tweep Purva alerted me to this really dumb slide show. Let’s all suffer together, shall we? I think the most frustrating one was the cupcake one. Since when do cupcakes need a fucking backstory to enjoy them? Also, who the fuck wants to eat a pile of fondant as big as those decorations were? And they’re sex themed cupcakes. The only way that’s okay is if there is some kind of gooey, salty filling in them. That’s the only way I’m on board.

Tweep Anna sent me this link to David Bunce’s review of 50 Shades of Grey. It’s definitely worth a read.

Okay. Let’s get this over with.

LOL, remember when recaps used to start with, “On to the recap!”? All enthusiastic and shit because my soul wasn’t irreparably withered? Just for reference, when I started reading these books I was a church-goer. Now I’m an atheist. I’m not saying they’ve destroyed my faith in God all on their own, I’m just suggesting they may have been a contributing factor.

When we last left them, Chedward had just told Ana that he was born in Detroit, and it is apparently a mind-blower:

“I though you were born here in Seattle,” I murmur. My mind races. What does this have to do with Jack?

I don’t know, maybe your crackerjack narrative will tell us at some point. You know, after you murmur and muse about it for seven or eight chapters, and then the big reveal ends up being something incredibly stupid. But yeah, no reveal in this chapter.

Since it’s been two weeks, I’m going to remind you guys that at this point, he’s done orgasm denial that caused her to safe word and she broke down crying. He’s yet to ask her if she’s okay or if she needs anything, and we’re now talking about his traumatic childhood and the conversation is all about him.

Christian explains that he and Elliot were both adopted in Detroit, but Grace wanted to leave, to be on the west coast and away from “the urban sprawl.” Which is pretty rich, considering Seattle’s geographical size is about half a square mile less than Detroit’s. Ana asks Christian how he knew Jack Hyde was from Detroit:

“I ran a background check when you went to work for him.”

You know, like any non-psycho boyfriend does.

Of course he did. “Do you have a manila file on him, too?” I smirk.

Christian’s mouth twists as he hides his amusement. “I think it’s pale blue.”

I’m glad they can joke about Christian’s repeated and obsessive invasions of privacy against people in his life and people who are only marginally connect to people in his life.

Ana asks what’s in Jack Hyde’s file, and Christian is all, “‘You really want to know?'” like it’s going to shock Ana so badly he needs to protect her fragile female brain from the terrible reality of who Jack Hyde is. When Ana asks how bad it is, Christian immediately reminds her of his horrible childhood:

“I’ve known worse,” he whispers.

No! Is he referring to himself?

HE FUCKING SAID “I” IN THE SENTENCE, ANA. WHO THE FUCK ELSE DOES HE REFER TO AS “I”? DOES HE HAVE A FRIEND NAMED “IGOR” WHO GOES ONLY BY INITIALS?

Christian stiffens. “I wasn’t talking about me. I don’t want your pity, Anastasia. That part of my life is done. Gone.”

“Except for when I need to manipulate you into doing something or staying with me when I’ve treated you like shit,” he definitely did not say next. “So let’s never talk about it, because if you think I’ve gotten over it, I won’t be able to use it as a weapon against you anymore.”

Even Ana knows that’s bullshit, and she calls him on it:

“That part of your life is not done, Christian – how can you say that? You live every day with your past. You told me yourself – fifty shades, remember?” My voice is barely audible.

But before you’re like, “Right on, Ana, call him on his bullshit so he has a microscopic chance of healing or whatever, as if I even gave a shit what happens to this guy,” she continues:

“I know it’s why you feel the need to control me. Keep my safe.”

“And yet you choose to defy me,” he murmurs, baffled, his hand stilling in my hair.

I frown. Holy cow! Do I do that deliberately? My subconscious removes her half-moon glasses and chews the end, pursing her lips and nodding. I ignore her. This is confusing – I’m his wife, not his submissive, not some company he’s acquired. I’m not the crack whore who was his mother… Fuck. The thought is sickening. Dr. Flynn’s words come back to me:

“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Christian is head over heels… It’s a delight to see.”

That’s it. I’m just doing what I’ve always done. Isn’t that what Christian found attractive in the first place?

Oh, this man is so confusing.

So was literally ALL OF THAT. What thought is sickening? The thought of his mother? Of being his sub? Of him acquiring companies? And no, dummy, your personality isn’t what Christian found attractive. The fact that you looked like his mother is what made you attractive to him. You already know that. He could have never been attracted to your personality, because in the first book you never said more than a few words at a time to him, because you were terrified of him. He found you attractive because he thought you were going to be a fuck doll he could manipulate and abuse until he got tired of you and threw you away.

Ana tells Christian that she’s just doing what Dr. Flynn told her to do, and she defies his orders to get him “‘away from your past,'” which would make sense if she didn’t bring up his fucking past every time they had the slightest argument. We’re in Ana’s head, so we know how often she’s thinking of him as being some grubby, abused toddler. Christian is not impressed that his psychiatrist suggested something that he feels might actually help him, and Ana says:

“Christian, I know you loved your mom, and you couldn’t save her. It wasn’t your job to do that. But I’m not her.”

He freezes again. “Don’t,” he whispers.

“No, listen. Please.” I raise my head to stare into wide eyes that are paralyzed with fear. He’s holding his breath. Oh, Christian…  My heart constricts. “I’m not her. I’m much stronger than she was. I have you, and you’re so much stronger now, and I know you love me. I love you, too,” I whisper.

Okay. First of all, Christian’s mother was a single mom, a drug addict, a prostitute working in unsafe conditions and under the control of her abusive pimp. She was trying to raise her son in abject poverty in Detroit in the 1980’s (not one of the city’s finest decades). She was not weak, Ana, you ignorant, privileged asshole. Strength has nothing to do with that situation.

I fucking hate, hate, hate this book.

Second, you tell Christian it wasn’t his job to save his mom, and you’re not her, but then you tell him you’re strong because of him. Which completely contradicts the point you were trying to make about not needing to be saved in place of his mother.

I fucking hate, hate, hate this book.

And let’s keep in mind, the experienced, careful Dom STILL HAS NOT INQUIRED ONCE AS TO HIS SUB’S MENTAL STATE AFTER SHE SAFE WORDED AND STARTED SOBBING.

His brow creases as if my words were not what he expected. “Do you still love me?” he asks.

“Of course I do. Christian, I will always love you. No matter what you do to me.” Is this the reassurance he wants?

She will always love him, no matter what he does to her. So… he doesn’t really need to change. He can keep abusing and isolating her, forcing her to make “choices” that are already pre-decided, and run her off from her dreams and aspirations until she’s exactly the person he wants her to be. That must be a load off his mind.

Christian tells Ana that when she asked him earlier in the day if he hated her, he didn’t understand why, and Ana asks if he still thinks she hates him. He says:

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not now.” He looks relieved. “But I need to know… why did you safe-word, Ana?”

What the hell kind of question is this? Wait, let me clarify: what the hell kind of question is this for Christian Grey to ask? Because a good Dom is going to ask, “What was it about the situation that made you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, and is there anything I can do next time to avoid making you feel that way?” That’s not how Christian is asking it. He’s asking why she safe worded because he sees it as an act of betrayal against him. The implication here is that she used the safe word because she hates him or wants to punish him.

What was Ana’s reason (Trigger warning):

What can I tell him? That he frightened me. That I didn’t know if he’d stop. That I’d begged him – and he didn’t stop. That I didn’t want things to escalate… like – like that one time in here. I shudder as I recall him whipping me with his belt.

If the control issues in their relationship were confined purely to their sex play, if they had a healthy BDSM relationship in which one partner didn’t expect their D/s roles to continue outside the bedroom when the other partner didn’t have that same expectation, this would be a fine and a sensible answer. In this context? It’s Ana admitting that she’s afraid of her husband and the fact that he uses BDSM as a way to abuse her.

I swallow. “Because… because you were so angry and distant and… cold. I didn’t know how far you’d go.”

She doesn’t trust him enough to submit to him. End of story. They should not be engaging in D/s play at all. Lack of trust is what makes their sexual relationship abusive, because Christian has been aware of her lack of trust and has done nothing to build her faith in him. He prefers her frightened, so he can manipulate her.

Ana asks Christian if he was eventually going to let her come, and he says no. Which is totally shitty, because he never said, “Hey, are you cool with some orgasm denial?” before they started. In fact, he made it seem like they were going into the Red Room for mutual satisfaction. He can’t get Ana’s consent if he doesn’t ask for it, so once again, we read a rape scene dressed up like sexy sexin’ times. He also tells her that he’s glad she safe worded:

“Yes. I don’t want to hurt you. I got carried away.” he reaches down and kisses me. “Lost in the moment.” He kisses me again. “Happens a lot with you.”

Oh? And for some bizarre reason the thought pleases me… I grin. Why does that make me happy? He grins, too.

“I don’t know why you’re grinning, Mrs. Grey.”

“Me neither.”

Me neither.

“It means I can trust you… to stop me. I never want to hurt you,” he murmurs.

I love how he always says this RIGHT AFTER HE HAS DONE SOMETHING TO HURT HER. And by love, I mean I want to set myself on fire.

There’s nothing wrong with a Dom expressing gratitude for the trust he has in his sub’s ability to stop him from crossing the line unintentionally. But I think we’re all aware that Christian is making Ana solely responsible for controlling him when they’re together. If she forgets to safe word because she gets into a bad place mentally, well, open season I guess, because we already know from the belt incident that Christian feels the onus is on Ana to keep the scene from going too far. Which is really funny in a “this writing is so fucking pathetic” way, because Christian goes on and on about how much he needs to control Ana in every aspect of her life, but he can’t exert any control over his own actions in his role as Dom. It’s another case of the author telling us what kind of a person the character is, while showing us tons of evidence to the contrary.

This is the heart of our dilemna – his need for control and his need for me. I refuse to believe these are mutually exclusive.

This is the heart of every abusive relationship. One partner’s need to exert control over the other partner, through any means necessary, and the abused partner’s utter refusal to accept the reality of his/her/zir situation.

“I need you, too,” I whisper, hugging him tighter. “I’ll try, Christian. I’ll try to be more considerate.”

Moving on, because I’m not going to be able to handle the rest of the fucking scene in which Ana earnestly apologizes to Christian for not being a good enough abused wife for him, Ana wakes up, still in the playroom, and Christian is, predictably, having another manipulative, thrashy nightmare.

“Ah!” I cry out, not from any pain, but from surprise at his alacrity.

Alacrity means being ready to do something in an cheerful way. Like, “The alacrity Jenny showed sprinting toward the liquor store was truly impressive.” It’s not the right word to use when someone has just woken up from a violent, screaming nightmare and starts desperation fucking the nearest available hole. They fuck, he comes, she doesn’t, and finally, FINALLY, he asks her if she’s okay:

“You okay?” I breathe, caressing his lovely face.

Oh, shit, no, HE STILL DIDN’T ASK HER IF SHE’S OKAY, SHE ASKED HIM. Because he is the most important.

Now, a lot of people have been like, “Oh, he fucks her again and leaves her hanging,” but he really doesn’t. When he realizes she didn’t come, he immediately heads south and gets her off orally, and then, with practically no refractory period required, fucks her again, and this time they both come. So, he does take care of the orgasm thing. And that’s where she could have used the word “alacrity.”

They get up and head back to the bedroom, and I’m not sure why we need a scene of them discussing this, especially since the scene takes up approximately a page of text. Other than to show them going from the playroom to the bedroom, which could easily have been done in a single sentence in the next section, which begins:

My eyes spring open. Something is wrong. Christian is not in bed, though it’s still dark. Glancing at the radio alarm, I see it’s three twenty in the morning. Where’s Christian? Then I hear the piano.

You know why she had the feeling something was wrong? Because there wasn’t an “Edward plays Bella’s lullaby” scene in this book yet. It’s weird that Ana is waking up all the freaking time to find Chedward not in bed with her (this is because Edward Cullen, a vampire, never slept, and in Breaking Dawn Bella wakes up to find him not in bed with her, so it has to be a theme E.L. beats to death in her fanfic) and yet she always finds it so alarming and crazy. “He’s not in bed with me? This has only happened a hundred and fifty other times! SOMETHING IS WRONG OMG HYDE MURDERED HIM.”

Also, why is it important for us to know that the alarm clock has a radio in it?

Quickly slipping out of bed, I grab my robe and run down the hallway to the great room. The tune he’s playing is so sad – a mournful lament that I’ve heard him play before. I pause in the doorway and watch him in a pool of light while the achingly sorrowful music fills the room. He finishes, then starts the piece again. Why such a plaintive tune? I wrap my arms around myself and listen spellbound as he plays. But my heart aches. Christian, why so sad? Is it because of me? Did I do this?

Yes, Ana. Your abuse is all your fault and you should feel bad about making him do that to you. OMG THIS BOOK IS SO FEMINIST BECAUSE IT MAKES ME PLAY WITH MYSELF.

When he finishes, only to start a third time, I can bear it no longer.

That is a really long time to stand and creepily watch someone play piano. After Ana goes over and sits by him, he tells her the piece he’s playing is Chopin’s “Prelude No. 4 in E minor (Suffocation),” so that means Ana stood there for like, almost six minutes listening to him before she said anything. Go stand and silently watch someone do something for six minutes. It’s a long time.

Also, it’s pretty funny that we’re supposed to be all, “Oh, he’s so talented, playing the piano in the night like some tortured genius,” because that’s actually not a very complicated song to play. A friend who teaches piano told me she uses that piece to strengthen an intermediate student’s left hand timing. And I was all, “That’s what she said,” and then she hit me. But whatever. Christian’s playing a pretty simple tune and we’re all supposed to be impressed at his skill.

 Reaching over, I take his hand. “You’re really shaken by all this, aren’t you?”

He snorts. “A deranged asshole gets into my apartment to kidnap my wife. She won’t do as she’s told. She drives me crazy. She safe-words on me.” He closes his eyes briefly, and when he opens them again, they are stark and raw. “Yeah, I’m pretty shaken up.”

More proof that Christian Grey should never, ever Dom. Ever. EVER. He takes the use of a safe word as a personal insult, a thing that shakes him up. Remember, Ana was sobbing, she didn’t want him to touch her, she felt violated, but he’s shaken up by it?

I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry.”

She’s sorry. For safe wording, for not mindlessly obeying him. She’s apologizing, again, for him abusing her.

“I dreamed you were dead,” he whispers.

Hard to believe that the man lying beside me, looking so serene and young in his sleep, was so tortured last night… and so tortured me last night.

So, file “tortured” away with “beat” and “hit” from the first book.

But am I strong enough for both of us? Strong enough to do what I’m told and give him some peace of mind? I sigh. He’s not asking that much of me.

Just that you relinquish all personal autonomy and live in his glass castle, never leaving or having any contact with the outside world but always ready to sexually service him and listen to him cry about his childhood. That’s not too much to ask at all, is it?

I flit through our conversation of last night. Did we decide anything other than to both try harder? The bottom line is that I love this man, and I need to chart a course for both of us. One that lets me keep my integrity and independence but still be more for him. I am his more, and he is mine. I resolve to make a special effort this weekend not to give him cause for concern.

That’s right, Ana. You need to shoulder the burden of fixing your relationship, and be a better person for Christian so he doesn’t have to do anything. Because he didn’t decide to try harder the night before. He just let you apologize over and over for making him abuse you.

This book is fucking sick. I remember when I was first reading them, and everyone was like, “You’re going to change your tune when you get to book three, because he’s sooooo different and gets sooooo much better.” No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t change at all. If anything, he gets slightly worse, but only because with a ring on her finger, he’s emboldened to let his diseased personality run wild. The only person who changes is Ana, because she makes a concerted effort to put up with his abuse.

Christian wakes up and they have their intensely belabored dialogue, as is standard for their mornings:

“Good morning, Mr. Grey.” I smile.

“Good morning, Mrs. Grey. Did you sleep well?”

Every time they wake up, they remind me of the fish from Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life.

He looks dreamy, all tousled hair, white T-shirt, and black jeans. Not CEO-like at all today.

There’s that damn description again. He either looks exactly like a CEO, or not at all like a CEO. At this point, I’m begging for just one variation on the theme, like, “He looks nothing at all like a rodeo clown,” or “he looked every bit the guy who obsessively brushes his teeth.”

He takes my hand as Taylor glides to a stop at the foot of the jet steps.

“I have a surprise for you,” he murmurs and kisses my knuckles.

I grin at him. “Good surprise?”

“I hope so.” He smiles warmly.

Hmm… what can it be?

Considering you ran into a bit of pronoun confusion and this tender exchange has taken place with Taylor, not Christian, I hope the surprise is that Taylor is going to murder your husband and steer that jet to Europe.

But you know what? Taylor doesn’t deserve to put up with your bullshit, Ana. He can stay with Mrs. Jones.

They get into the plane:

Christian and Stephan shake hands. “Good morning, sir.” Stephan smiles.

“Thanks for doing this on such short notice.” Christian grins back at him. “Our gests here?”

“Yes, sir.”

This week, Seattle’s hottest club is GEH Jet. They have everything: a sadistic billionaire, a timid brunette, her nosy best friend –

I turn and gasp. Kate, Elliot, Mia, and Ethan are all smiling and sitting in the cream-colored leather seats. Wow! I spin around to Christian.

Uh… if they’re RIGHT THERE, why did Christian have to ask if they were there? Just for the drama?

Ana is speechless to find her friends there. Okay, not strictly her friends. Her friend, her friend’s brother, and Christian’s brother and sister. But still, more people than she’s usually allowed to associate with:

“You said you didn’t see enough of your friends.” He shrugs and gives me a lopsided, apologetic smile.

If he was really apologetic, Jose would be there, right?

“That was fun, Mrs. Grey.” And his grin widens. Oh boy. He looks so young.

 He is 27. In what universe, even to a twenty-two year old, is twenty-seven not young? As Kody Thomas points out in her analysis of the plagiarism in the series, both Edward and Christian are depicted as seeming older than their years. But that’s because Edward is a vampire. It makes no sense for Christian to be thought of as old. At all. Except for the part where he was plagiarized off a vampire.

They have a moment in the bedroom of the jet, and Christian reveals the reason for the trip:

“[…] I thought it would be easier to avoid the press in Aspen than at home.”

The paparazzi! He’s right. If we’d stayed in Escala, we’d have been imprisoned. A shiver runs down my spine as I recollect the snapping cameras and dazzling flashes of the few photographers Taylor sped through this morning.

Leaving aside the part where I imagine Taylor actually speeding through hapless photographers, their bodies exploding like water balloons filled with blood and bone chunks, and the part where we’ve already discussed that Americans don’t give a shit about the day-to-day lives of industry tycoons who aren’t fictional,  WTF? You’re going to Aspen to get away from paparazzi? Great plan, because as everyone knows, NOBODY FAMOUS EVER GOES TO ASPEN, RIGHT?

Christian and Ana rejoin their friends, because it’s time for takeoff. Now, I know I just told you that, but I’m also going to let Stephan tell you that, so you can imagine Bill Hader is on the plane with them:

“Please be seated, ladies and gentlemen, as we’ll shortly begin taxiing for takeoff.” Stephan’s voice echoes calmly and authoritatively around the cabin. The brunette woman – um… Natalie? – who was on the flight for our wedding night appears from the galley and gathers up the discarded coffee cups. Natalia… Her name’s Natalia.

“Good morning Mr. Grey, Mrs. Grey,” she says with a purr. Why does she make me uncomfortable?

Because she’s female?

Maybe it’s that she’s a brunette. By his own admission, Christian doesn’t usually employ brunettes because he finds them attractive.

So, because Christian can’t trust himself to behave ethically around an employee he finds attractive, he actively discriminates against certain types of women? HE’S SO DREAMY I NEED TO TOUCH MY NO NO.

But Ana is distracted from further misogynistic musing on the subject of bitches who want to steal her man, because she’s going to think about Christian instead:

He seems relaxed and happy, even though we’re with company. Idly, I wonder why he can’t always be like this – not controlling at all.

No, not controlling at all, even though you’re on a last-minute surprise trip out of state that he planned so he could micromanage your socialization. Not controlling at all.

Remember how in the first two books, and to a lesser extent, in this very book, everybody described Ana as “bright” or “intelligent” within two paragraphs of meeting her? Keep that in mind during this next exchange:

“Hope you packed your hiking boots,” he says, his voice warm.

“We’re not going skiing?”

“That would be a challenge, in August,” he says, amused.

Natalia runs through the plane’s safety procedures in a clear, ringing voice. She’s dressed in a neat navy short-sleeved shirt and matching pencil skirt. Her makeup is immaculate – she really is quite pretty. My subconscious raises a plucked-to-within-an-inch-of-its-life eyebrow at me.

Ana starts to think something complimentary about another female, and her subconscious puts the lid on that right quick. Plus, I love that we just got this detailed description of the flight attendent, but I still have no fucking clue what Elliot looks like. I mean, from any of the information in any of the books, not just in the scene. There are minor characters I could draw a police sketch of, but secondary characters who are just faceless blanks shambling around in the story.

As they taxi out, Kate asks Christian questions about Jack Hyde. Because, you know, the guy she’s been with for exactly as long as Ana has been with Christian (longer, because she and Elliot didn’t break up due to him going sickhouse on her with a fucking belt) is at risk of being murdered by Jack, as well. But Ana doesn’t see it this way. She sees Kate’s questions as an intrusion, so when Kate asks why Christian fired Jack, this happens:

“He made a pass at me,” I mutter. I try to kick Kate’s ankle beneath the table and miss.

She tries to physically assault her best friend because Christian wants to be in complete control of the information flow regarding Jack Hyde.

I also want to point out that Christian beefed up security for Mia and Elliot, but Kate never mentioned anything about getting security for herself. If Jack is so deranged that he wants to hurt the Greys at any cost, wouldn’t he go after Elliot’s girlfriend? But Christian doesn’t care, because let’s be honest, if Kate dies, he gets Ana all to himself.

They keep talking about Jack Hyde, and there’s no new information revealed, really. It’s all about how Kate is so exasperating and terrible, asking all these questions. Even when Elliot gets in on it, it’s unacceptable:

“What do you know about him?” Elliot asks, oblivious to the fact that we are hurtling down the runway in a small jet about to launch itself into the sky, and equally oblivious to Christian’s growing exasperation with Kate.

Elliot, who has to have extra security because of Jack’s secret and horrible internet search history, isn’t entitled to information about what makes Jack a threat to his safety. Christian explains Hyde’s background:

“We know a little about him,” Christian continues. “His dad died in a brawl in a bar. His mother drank herself into oblivion. He was in and out of foster homes as a kid… in and out of trouble, too. Mainly boosting cars. Spent time in juvie. His mom got back on track through some outreach program, and Hyde turned himself around. Won a scholarship to Princeton.”

Yeah, I’m not buying that someone who had a record and spent time in juvie would be admitted to Princeton. It seems like that would be one of the things they’d use to weed out applicants.

I’m getting a little pissed off at the stigma against single mothers and low-income families in this series. Christian and Jack were both kids from impoverished backgrounds who became successful, but they’re both emotionally fragile, apparently because of their upbringing. Their childhoods were marked by violence – Jack’s father died in a bar fight, Christian was abused by his mother’s pimp – and addiction – alcohol; crack – and they were both “saved” by money. Christian was adopted by wealthy parents, Jack got into a prestigious school. And yet both of them are still so scarred by their upbringings that they fall apart at the slightest stress. Christian snaps and whips Ana with a belt, Jack loses his job and decides to start sabotaging helicopters and stuff. Because growing up without two parents in a heteronormative nuclear family environment leaves you irreparably damaged, and every person who comes from a background of poverty or fatherlessness is in the same situation.

Think about it – Ana’s parents are divorced, but she’s “normal” because of the presence of Ray or Charlie or whoever in her life (I honestly can’t remember which dad is in which book) and his masculine influence. Everything useful that Ana has ever learned, she learned from Rarlie. What has she learned from her mother? A legacy of bad decisions about men. Because of this masculine influence from her stepfather, Ana is a whole person. Christian and Jack are incomplete, because their mothers weren’t “strong” in the way Ana is.

OH. MY. GOD.

“Princeton?” Kate’s curiosity is piqued.

“”Yep. He’s a bright boy.” Christian shrugs.

1. Kate’s curiosity was already piqued, it’s why she’s been asking questions the whole time.
2. Further down the page, we learn that Jack Hyde is thirty-two. So Christian is only calling him “boy” because Edward was a vampire.

Much as I’d like to know what’s going on, I don’t want to encourage Kate’s questions. I know they’re irritating Christian, and I’m sure she’s on his shit list since Cocktailgate.

If a friend told me I was on her husband’s “shitlist” because she chose to go out for drinks with me when he’d asked her not to, I would never speak to that person ever again. I am not submissive to other people’s men, thanks a bunch and go fuck yourself.

Ana asks Christian if he thinks Jack is working with Elena “the bitch troll.” I will never tire of that delightful phrase, let me tell you. Christian says:

“You  do like to demonize her, don’t you?” Christian rolls his eyes and shakes his head in disgust.

Yeah. People tend to demonize adults who prey on emotionally damaged teenagers in the hopes of grooming them into the perfect sex slave. Something about that doesn’t sit right with most people, for some reason.

There is some back and forth between Christian and Elliot, and Elliot and Kate are suddenly not getting along great – because obviously, Elliot needs to rein her in and make her stop annoying the billionaire important man with questions about the guy who might end up killing her – and Ana thinks about how since she’s Christian’s first real girlfriend, Mrs. Robinson and the fifteen subs don’t matter.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be cruising at an altitude of approximately thirty-two thousand feet, and our estimated flight time is one hour and fifty-six minutes,” Stephan announces. “You are now free to move around the cabin.”

Natalia appears abruptly from the galley.

“May I offer anyone coffee?” she asks.

OMG I HAVE TO KEEP READING DO THEY HAVE THE COFFEE OR WHAT DO THEY PUT CREAM IN IT WHAT ABOUT SWEETENER OH GOD I MUST KNOW RIGHT NOW.

Masterful. Positively masterful.

If you’re reading The Boss, chapter ten has been posted! It’s here.

In every generation there is a chosen one. She alone will never, ever try the Burger King turkey burger because it sounds awful. She will also recap every episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer with an eye to the following themes:

1. Sex is the real villain of the Buffy The Vampire Slayer universe.
2. Giles is totally in love with Buffy.
3. Joyce is a fucking terrible parent.
4. Willow’s magic is utterly useless (this one won’t be an issue until season 2, when she gets a chance to become a witch)
5. Xander is a textbook Nice Guy.
6. The show isn’t as feminist as people claim.
7. All the monsters look like wieners.
8. If ambivalence to possible danger were an Olympic sport, Team Sunnydale would take the gold.
9. Angel is a dick.
10. Harmony is the strongest female character on the show.
11. Team sports are portrayed in an extremely negative light.

WARNING: Some people have mentioned they’re watching along with me, and that’s awesome, but I’ve seen the entire series already and I’ll probably mention things that happen in later seasons. So… you know, take that under consideration, if you’re a person who can’t enjoy something if you know future details about it.

So… “The Pack.” I’m torn, y’all. I’m torn because it’s one of the most problematic episodes in terms of racism and rape culture, but… poor, poor Principal Flutie…

It’s also one of the most boring episodes, so let’s just do this one, okay?

First of all, the kids of Sunnydale High are on a field trip to the zoo. Because somebody thought it was a fucking brilliant idea to build a zoo on a Hellmouth. What could go wrong?! (8) And before you argue that it could be a zoo in another town, check the sign:

So, they’re at the Sunnydale Hell Zoo, and Buffy is walking around by herself, taking in the sights, when a wild clique attacks!

They mock Buffy for having no friends and being unpopular, then one of them makes a crack about Buffy beating one of them up. Instead of beating the jerk to death and dumping his body in the crocodile lagoon like I would do if I were a superhero villain, Buffy takes their teasing pretty much in stride. Which is one thing I’ve always liked about Buffy in this show. You get the sense from the way she deals with bullies that she probably was the nice popular girl at her old school. She doesn’t seem too fazed by going from May Queen to the weird kid. Oh, wait, you didn’t hear about her being May Queen yet? We’ll get there.

So, where were Xander and Willow when all this was going down? They were watching the zebras mate:

Willow: “It was like the Heimlich. With stripes!”

Buffy tells them she was looking “at the fishes,” which signals an alarming need for more classroom time vs. field trips for Sunnydale students, if you ask me.

The clique that teased Buffy finds another student hanging out by chimp island. And I noticed something really bizarre about this scene that I never noticed before: when one of the jerky kids says, “Lance,” to get the non-clique kid’s attention, one of the chimps responds with like, a “Who, me?” kind of noise. And he looks up. So… that monkey’s name is Lance.

The really funny part is that when I was labeling my screencaps, I labelled that one “Lance.jpg” and all the ones of the human Lance are labelled “geek01.jpg” or similar.

Poor Lance (the human, not the ape) is the target of some pretty unclever monkey jokes, until Principal Flutie overhears and demands to know what the bad kids are up to. Because Lance is a nerd, and he wants to live through this field trip, he adopts pack mentality and tells the principal that everything is cool, the bad kids weren’t bothering him. Flutie warns the clique kids that he’s watching them, and stalks away looking like a fat Jerry Orbach.

 Because they’re assholes, the cool kids dupe Lance into believing they really like him, and he should go check out the hyena exhibit with them. Even though the hyena exhibit is closed with some pretty serious looking cones. Buffy, Xander, and Willow watch as Lance and the clique head into the forbidden hyena house, and Xander muses that every school has mean kids. The mean kids at this school appear to be in their late twenties, but whatever. Their jokes were pretty bad, so I guess that’s an indication that they’ve been held back a lot?

“Are you blind, or are you just illiterate? Because hyenas are very quick to prey on the weak.”

As we continue in the episode, you’ll note that this is an important plot point. But it’s stated so strangely. Not only does it imply that blind people and the illiterate are inherently weak, but it kind of seems like he’s saying that literacy would save you in case of hyena attack. Which is an unnecessarily bizarre and ableist way of promoting reading to high schoolers.

If the dialogue and story seem kind of off to you in this one, keep in mind that it was written by Matt Kiene and Joe Reinkemeyer, a writing duo who only wrote two episodes, both uniformly horrible, Xander-centric stories for the series. The Pack and Inca Mummy Girl both feel like particularly well-written, but not entirely in-character, fanfic.

Bill Oddie’s brother tells Buffy and Willow that the hyenas are in quarantine because they just arrived from Africa. He goes on to share some pretty specific information about how hyenas will hunt the Maasai by imitating their names to lure them away from their camp fires at night. And this guy? He is really into hyenas.

The mean kids pass Xander by to make fun of a fat kid, which Xander finds super funny, though he is somewhat chastened when Willow and Buffy aren’t impressed. Then we cut to Sunnydale high, where Buffy finishes kicking Giles’s ass in training, in a scene that goes literally no place before he sends her off to class (fanfic, anyone?). Then we cut to the legs of frightened, fleeing students and a panicked Principal Flutie. What’s causing all this commotion?

“You remember. You fail math, you flunk out of school, you end up being the guy at the pizza place that sweeps the floor and says, ‘hey kids, where’s the cool parties this weekend?’ We’ve been through this.”

So, no pressure, Xander.

Xander: “I guess you’ve noticed that I’ve been different around you lately.”

Willow: “Yes.“

Xander: “I think, um… I think it’s because my feelings for you have been changing. And, well, we’ve been friends for such a long time that I feel like I need to tell you something. I’ve um… I’ve decided to drop geometry. So, I won’t be needing your math help anymore. Which means I won’t have to look at your pasty face again.

Willow. Is. Crushed. As she runs away, Xander and his friends laugh uncontrollably, and Buffy, having overheard the exchange, angrily asks Xander if he has anything to say to her. He just laughs and walks off with his new friends.

Giles: “Xander’s taken to teasing the less fortunate?”

Buffy: “Uh-huh.”

Giles: “And there’s a noticeable change in both clothing and demeanor?”

Buffy: “Yes.”

Giles: “And otherwise, all of his spare time is spent lounging about with imbeciles?”

Buffy: “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

Giles: “It’s devastating. He’s turned into a sixteen year old boy. Of course, you’ll have to kill him.”

 Buffy demands that Giles take her seriously, but he just talks down to her about how testosterone turns all men into morons. Which is interesting. With what we’ll learn about Giles’s teen years in season two, it seems like he’s projecting a bit here. Buffy tells him not to “Scully” her, and I flip the fuck out because ZOMG SHE JUST REFERENCE THE X-FILES! Though Buffy urges Giles to check his books, and tells him about Xander scaring the pig, Giles goes on and on about teenagers preying on the weak. This triggers Buffy’s thought process, and she realizes that Xander has been possessed by a hyena. Giles doesn’t take her seriously until Willow bursts into the library and tells them that Herbert the Fauxzerback has been eaten. Giles admits defeat and starts researching.

Meanwhile, Principal Flutie knows exactly who is responsible for Herbert’s demise. He confronts the four bad kids – who are sans Xander at the moment – and orders them into his office, promising they’ll have “so much detention, your grandkids will be staying after.”

Buffy, Willow, and Giles are researching hyenas, and Giles suddenly knows all about this sect of animal worshipping Masai who allowed themselves to be possessed by animal spirits. Somehow, this did not raise alarms when Buffy was first talking about the hyena thing? Someone is getting Watcher dusty, methinks.

Because mutilation and decapitation is apparently a side effect of animal possession, Buffy knows she has to get to Xander right away. She goes to the room where Herbert met his tragic demise, and she’s inspecting the remains when Xander shows up. He tries to block her from leaving the room and she knocks him down. So he tries to rape her. Interspersed with Xander’s attempted sexual assault, we see the rest of the pack in Flutie’s office, where they rip the phone off his desk and surround him. Xander tells Buffy that she’s only been pretending she doesn’t want him, and back in Flutie’s office, well… RIP, Flutie. Actually, yeah. Literally. To shreds.

Hey, that reminds me, did anyone else watch Tiny Toon Adventures: How I Spent My Summer Vacation when you were kids? IT’S ON FUCKING YOUTUBE. So, when I start going on and on about my renewed vigor for my work and the importance of a schedule and shit like that, be completely aware that every word is a lie, because I’m really just watching Tiny Toons and fucking around.

If you remember from a week ago (I know that in internet years, a week is a millenium), I took time off from the blog to get some writing done. And while I did get writing done (I finished the first draft of The Boss, so that’s something), I didn’t get nearly as much done as I do on weeks when I’m blogging according to my regular schedule. Let’s check out the stats:

Word count for the week beginning March 18: 10,001

Word cout for the week beginning March 25: 3987

WTF, how did that happen? The only explanation I can come up with is that the blog keeps me so busy that when I decide to take time off from that, I don’t know how to keep working. Like, removing that one thing from my day throws the entire system into utter chaos and I get nothing at all done. Isn’t that bizarre?

So, the blog is back. You can expect a Buffy recap tomorrow, and 50 Shades Freed recap later in the week. Roadhouse is still on hiatus until April 19th, so D-Rock and I can get our taxes done and detox from our Drunk of Thrones! project. During the month of April, I will also be finishing up the last half of Such Sweet Sorrow, which has a May 1 deadline, and after that I start work on The Girlfriend so that it can release as a complete ebook as close to the end of The Boss as possible. And the good news is, I’ll be able to get all this stuff done because I’ll be blogging, and that’s apparently the only thing that can keep me on track and motivated to do my actual work. So, thank you, Trout Nation, for being my unintentional accountability system.

Also, my tweep @MissJuuko sent me this suggestion for the emblem and flag of Trout Nation. When considered beside @MandiReiSerra’s literal Trout Fan, this is proof that you guys are absolutely terrifying and bizarre. Keep it up, guys!

Because it’s a holiday tomorrow, I’ve released my short story, Sex, Lies, and Inventions, today. That way, if the links or downloads don’t work, I’ll be around to field those problems. You can find the links to download .mobi, .epub, and .pdf files on my website, in the Pay What You Want library, but  no donation is expected!!!! I just didn’t want to make a separate page for free stuff. This is just a taste to introduce you to Feebee and the Professor, who will see their own novel, Raptors of The Great Plains, in December, 2013.

Have a super holiday if you’re celebrating, and if you’re not, have a good Sunday!

EDIT: If you are on a mobile phone or iPad or Kindle or whatever dagblasted new-fangled technology these crazy kids have today, that link up there won’t work. So use these:

Our final chapter of Drunk of Thrones! is here, just in time for the series premiere tomorrow night. D-Rock and I continued to drink mini bottles of wine, one per episode, as we waded into the murky and confusion plot waters of season two of Game of Thrones. We also filmed a post-game wrap up, where we discussed the misogyny and racism of the series.

Some mild spoilers for A Storm of Swords, A Feast for Crows, and A Dance with Dragons, but nothing major. We don’t like, ruin season three or anything.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ERkjtbkLVl8]
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4Nr4Ufd_Yc]
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ShVMBjW5fAo]
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KX1ybrDIdRg]

Since The Boss is not on blogcation, here is chapter nine!

In case you missed it, this weekend is the The Boss read-a-long at That’s What I’m Talking About. After this incredibly depressing recap, maybe stopping by there might lift your spirits a little.

I was in such a good mood when I started recapping this chapter. I was in the middle of a really bad day, pain-wise, so I was good and medicated (I know I have some new followers to the blog, so quick explanation: I’m disabled due to chronic illness and permitted by the state of Michigan to use marijuana as a pain relief method). I was pretty laid back, feeling chill, listening to the new Bowie album, thinking, “Right, I remember this chapter. This is the one where they went back into the Red Room of Pain.” Because it’s been a while since I’ve read this chapter, (and honestly, by the time I was finished reading all these books, it was like everything had blended together into this stew of horrible and sad and angry), I was thinking, “This isn’t a very bad one, if I remember correctly.”

I did not remember correctly.

So, Ana has just gotten home, and Christian is wearing “those” jeans, the all ripped up ones he only wears in the Red Room of Pain, and told Ana he’d been waiting for her. At the beginning of this chapter, Ana is all like, what’s up with this, but mostly she’s all, OMG HE’S SO HOT:

He looks hot – his jeans hanging that way from his hips. Oh no, I’m not going to be distracted by Mr. Sex-on-Legs.

Place your bets now as to whether or not she’s going to be distracted from her conviction to talk about their earlier fight.

Ana realizes that Christian is still mad. If you’ve forgotten, allow me to rehash for you why Christian is mad: He made a spur-of-the-moment, cross-country flight to try and stop his wife from spending time with anyone but him, and she dared to call him on it. That’s why he’s mad.

“I understand you have issues, Mrs. Grey,” he says silkily, and he pulls something from the back pocket of his jeans.

“Let’s fuck about them,” is not his next line, but it might as well have been. He’s got her email, and his eyes “blaze bright with anger.”

Remember, his eyes “blaze bright with anger,” because his wife went out with a friend without his permission.

“Yes, I have issues,” I whisper, feeling breathless. I need distance if we’re going to discuss this. But before I can step back, he leans down and runs his nose along mine. My eyes flutter to a close as I welcome his unexpected, gentle touch.

Emphasis mine. “I need,” followed by “but.” She needs this, but he won’t give it to her. And note how his “gentle touch” is “unexpected.” Was she expecting an ungentle touch? Sounds a lot like she is.

We already know E.L. James does not consider this relationship abusive. So marvel at how fucking creepy it is that she managed to write such a incredibly realistic portrayal of abuse. By accident.

Christian says he has issues, too, and Ana says she’s knows. Then:

Are we going to fight? I take a precautionary step back. I must physically distance myself from him – from his smell, his look, his distracting body in those hot jeans.

 E.L. writes that Ana has to step back because she’s just so turned on by Christian. Even if we were to take this totally at face value – that her “precautionary step back” is out of a need to clear her head of desire, not fear that he’s going to physically harm her – he’s still being abusive. He’s trying to distract her from their very real problems by coercing her to have sex and forget all about it. He’s not respecting her needs at all, and he’s being very forceful about denying her needs.

“Why did you fly back from New York?” I whisper. Let’s get this over and done with.

“You know why.” His tone carries a warning.

“Because I went out with Kate?”

“Because you went back on your word, and you defied me, putting yourself at unnecessary risk.”

The unnecessary risk of going out with a friend, with an armed security detail.  Keep in mind, Michelle Obama, our president’s wife, can shop at fucking Target if she wants to, but Ana is taking unnecessary risk by having drinks with a friend.

But Ana doesn’t appeal to Christian’s rational sense here:

“Christian, I changed my mind,” I explain slowly, patiently, as if he’s a child. “I’m a woman. We’re renowned for it. That’s what we do.”

No, Ana. No, no, no. The situation is wrong because of his actions, not because he misunderstands a stereotype about female fickleness. And herein lies the problem: millions of women have read that line and thought, “Right on, girlfriend!” and believed this to be an example of feminism. It is not. Relying on misogynistic stereotypes to excuse female behavior isn’t empowering. It’s a cop out, a way to appeal to the misogynist while passively asking to be forgiven for our feminine natures. The problem isn’t that Ana is just too weak and flighty by virtue of her gender to do as Christian expects. The problem is that Christian has unrealistic and abusive expectations.

“And you didn’t think to call me?” He glares at me, incredulous, before continuing. “What’s more, you left the security detail short here and put Ryan at risk.”

If she had called him, he would have just come back, anyway. Probably not in time to stop her from going out, but in time to punish her when she got home. And since when is it Ana’s responsibility to keep the security team safe? Aren’t they there to keep their employers safe?

“I should have called, but I didn’t want to worry you. If I had, I’m sure you would ahve forbidden me to go, and I’ve missed Kate. I wanted to see her. Besides, it kept me out of the way when Jack was here. Ryan shouldn’t have let him in.”

Sometimes when I read a book, I’ll hit a line that reads like an editor’s note. I can almost see this in a comment in the margin: “But if she had called him, wouldn’t he have forbidden her from going out anyway? And shouldn’t he be happy that she was out, when Jack was there? Wouldn’t he be mad that Ryan let Jack in?” And then I imagine E.L. looking at that note, not wanting to do the work to fix the problem, and then just throwing in Ana’s dialogue there, followed up by:

Christian’s eyes gleam wildly, then shut, his face tightening as if in pain. Oh no.

Because the reader, as in love with the character as the author is, will obviously shift their focus from the logical inconsistencies in the plot to worry about Christian’s hurt feelings. This is a common mistake for inexperienced writers. Almost all of us do it at some point in our writing. But here, it’s just the worst, because we’re looking at Ana putting aside her very real and legitimate concerns because the situation that Christian has made is hurting him so much more than it is hurting her. This is a manipulation abusers often rely on, the “yes, I hurt you, but you hurt me, too, and you hurt me worse,” gambit that Christian has deployed more than once in this series.

“But it could have. I’ve died a thousand deaths today thinking about what might have happened.[…]”

Emphasis mine. Right there we see the bare bones of his manipulation. “What might have happened” is worse than “what I did.” Imagining that she might have been hurt by Jack Hyde is supposed to appear, to Ana and to the reader, much, much worse than being imprisoned by your husband and kept away from your friends.

“I don’t know how to deal with this anger. I don’t think I want to hurt you,” he says, his eyes wide and wary. “This morning, I wanted to punish you, badly, and – ” He stops, lost for words I think, or too afraid to say them.

“You were worried you’d hurt me?” I finish his sentence for him, not believing  that he’d hurt me for a minute, but relieved, too. A small part of me feared it was because he didn’t want me anymore.

Ana is relieved that he didn’t reject her out of lack of sexual interest. It’s better, in Ana’s mind, that he’s afraid of losing control out of anger and seriously hurting her.

Consider that.

The heroine of the best-selling “romance” of all time would prefer an abusive “hero” over one who wasn’t “in the mood.”

Women are buying this. Women are gleefully buying this and envying Ana.

We’re doomed. The entire fucking human race is doomed. And we probably deserve to be.

“Christian, I know you’d never hurt me. Not physically, anyway.”

No, you don’t know that. There are numerous examples in this book alone, never mind the first two books, where you are afraid of him, of what he’ll do, where you ask him if he’s going to hurt you or if he wants to hurt you. I know my husband would never physically hurt me. He’s never threatened to “beat the shit out of me.” I’ve never had to ask him if he wanted to hurt me. You only have to ask the question if you don’t know the answer, Ana.

“Yes. I knew what you said was an empty, idle threat. I know you’re not going to beat the shit out of me.”

“I wanted to.”

“No, you didn’t. You just thought you did.”

Here, abuser. Have permission to express how much you want to cause me physical harm. I don’t mind, and no sane woman ever would. Because you are the perfect hero, and I know in my heart of hearts that I love you so much you will change through the power of my denial.

“Think about it,” I urge, wrapping my arms around him once more and nuzzling his chest through the black T-shirt. “About how you felt when I left. You’ve told me often enough what that did to you. How it altered your view of the world, of me. I know what you’ve given up for me. Think about how you felt about the cuff marks on our honeymoon.”

Think about all the times you’ve abused me before, and how really, really bad you felt about them later. Even though I’ve just cited them as being recurring episodes, I fully believe you won’t ever do it again. Even though I believed that after the first time, too. I’m sure this time, everything will be different.

Why do I have more faith in him than he has in himself?

Ana, have a sit-down with Tough Love Jen. The reason you have more faith in him than he has in himself is because you’re willing to believe anything, so long as you don’t have to confront the fact that you’ve married your abusive boyfriend and the wedding didn’t fix anything, he’s continuing to abuse. You thought that by giving in to his temper tantrum over wanting to marry you, he’d magically change into someone else. But he’s never going to be satisfied, Ana. He’s going to make more and more demands on you, and you’ll keep capitulating, because you believe he’s going to change. Every single time you give in to something he wants, he’s just going to want more, until there’s nothing left. You aren’t changing him, he’s changing you.

Sorry to be so brutal, guys. This chapter just has me incredibly down.

Then they laugh over the fact that they don’t have a sex contract, so he can’t hit her. Christian wants to go to bed, Ana wants to talk about the fact that he’s been keeping her ignorant of –

crap.

I spilled a potsticker in the book.

And I really don’t want to touch this thing with my mouth.

Ana wants to talk about the fact that Christian has been keeping her ignorant of the stuff going on with Jack Hyde. One might make the case that had she known the severity of the stuff happening, she might have chosen to stay home. But then she would have been present for the big fight, and in these books, all action must happen off screen, because it is more interesting that way. He tells Ana that the added security is necessary because Jack had all this stuff on his computer about every member of the Grey family, especially Carrick.

“I didn’t know he was going to attempt to burn down my building, or – ” He stops.

When Ana asks him about that “or” later on down the page, Christian responds by changing the subject to whether or not she’s eaten:

“Did you eat today?” His voice is sterner and his eyes frost.

I’m betrayed by my flush.

I don’t know how, because she is constantly flushed.

“As I thought.” His voice is clipped. “You know how I feel about you not eating. Come,” he says. He stands and holds out his hand. “Let me feed you.” And he shifts again… this time his voice full of sensual promise.

Rather than answer her question – and rather than admit he was in the wrong for hiding details that concern her personal safety – Christian turns the conversation to something he’s perceived as Ana doing wrong.

I open one eye and see him take a plum-colored silk scarf out of the back pocket of his jeans. It matches my dress. Holy cow. I look quizzically at him. When did he get that?

He probably stole it from Kate, just like the dress.

“Christian – ” He places a finger upon my lips, silencing me. I want to talk.

“We’ll talk later. I want you to eat now. You said you were hungry.” He lightly kisses my lips. The silk scarf is soft against my eyelids as he ties it securely at the back of my head.

You’re doing marriage wrong. You cannot fuck your relationship problems away, Christian. No matter how elaborately you tie her up, no matter what music you play, you are still using D/s power games to avoid confronting the real issues in your marriage.

“Can you see?” he asks.

“No,” I mutter, figuratively rolling my eyes. He chuckles softly.

“I can tell when you’re rolling your eyes… and you know how that makes me feel.”

First of all, how does one figuratively roll ones eyes? And how can Christian tell she’s done something figuratively? You can roll your eyes behind a blindfold, E.L. That doesn’t make it “figurative.” I’m at the point where I don’t think the author knows what literally half of the words in her manuscript mean.

Then Ana points out she wants to talk, and Christian teases her about it:

“Such impatience, Mrs. Grey. So eager to talk.” His tone is playful.

“Yes!”

“I must feed you first,” he says and brushes his lips over my temple, calming me instantly.

Okay, maybe there was one funny thing that happened in this chapter. When I read him saying, “I must feed you first,” I immediately heard it in the voice of Antonio Banderas as the Nasonex Bee.

A loud twang of a guitar begins a song I don’t know. Christian turns the volume down to background level. A man starts to sing, his voice deep, low and sexy.

Ana never knows the names or artists of the songs, unless she’s holding the iPod in her hand (like when they were in the car on the way to go gliding in Georgia, and… wait, there’s some more of Christian Grey’s god complex, she can’t go drinking with her friends because it’s too dangerous, but an engineless light aircraft is fine because she’s with him). Remember this, I’m going to bring it up again in a few pages.

Cool crisp wine flows into my mouth. I swallow reflexively. Oh my. Memories flood back of not so long ago – me trussed up on my bed in Vancouver before I graduated with a hot, angry Christian not appreciating my e-mail. Hmm… have times changed? Not much. Except now I recognize the wine, Christian’s favorite – a Sancerre.

That’s really the important thing here, isn’t it? That she now can recognize wine while blindfolded? Not the fact that times have literally not changed, because they haven’t been together long enough for Daylight Savings Time to affect the clocks. Their entire dating and married life has taken place in a span of months, despite the fact that he’s emotionally fucked up and Ana is continually unhappy in the relationship. He pushed her to go really fast, and now he’s pushing her to get drunk so they won’t talk about their problems. But as long as it’s written real sexy-like, that makes it okay and something to aspire to.

His wedding ring clinks against the glass as he takes another sip of wine. Now that is a sexy sound.

Yes, your disempowerment is sure getting  me wet, Ana.

The troubadour on the iPod is singing about wicked games.

First of all, troubadour? Second, how does she not recognize “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaac? It’s been in how many movies, tv shows, commercials? It’s a fairly famous song and she doesn’t recognize it? Again, keep this in mind, because I’m going to bring it up later.

Christian burns himself getting something out of the microwave, then asks Ana to “suck it better,” and she does, because they don’t know shit about first aid. “Another person’s mouth full of foreign bacteria is the perfect place for my vulnerable wound! Very sexy!” Good thing Christian isn’t a doctor, or every one of his patients would have staph infections.

After the anxiety and tension of today, and the nightmare of last night with Jack, this is a welcome diversion.

But it’s not. We know that it’s not because for the past two pages you’ve been telling Christian that you want to talk, not play sex games. I guess a person’s perception shifts when she knows she doesn’t have any choice in the matter, anyway. If you can’t beat them, join them?

“How mercurial you are.”

He stills beside me. “Fifty Shades, baby,” he says eventually and plants a tender kiss at the corner of my mouth.

“My Fifty Shades,” I whisper.

NO ONE TALKS LIKE THIS IN REAL LIFE AND IF THEY DO THEY SHOULD STOP IMMEDIATELY BECAUSE EVERYONE THEY KNOW SECRETLY HATES THEM.

Christian feeds her, threatens to spank her if she’s not good, blah blah blah:

This time it’s pita bread and hummus. I realize Mrs. Jones – or maybe even Christian – has been shopping at the delicatessen I discovered about five weeks ago only two blocks from Escala.

I highly doubt that Mrs. Jones, the housekeeper who does all the grocery shopping, did not notice a deli two blocks away.

“Open wide, then bite,” he murmurs. I follow his command. Hmm – one of my favorites, stuffed vine leaves. Even cold they are delicious, though I prefer them heated up, but I don’t want to risk Christian burning himself again.

She doesn’t trust him to use the microwave without burning himself, but she trusts him to tie her up and beat her. Smart!

After she’s full, Christian picks her up and carries her off, still blindfolded:

“Playroom,” he murmurs.

Oh – I don’t know if that’s a good idea.

“You up for the challenge?” he asks. And because he’s used the word challenge, I can’t say no.

Bullshit. I call bullshit on this one. Ana has backed down from numerous challenges in this series. In the rare event that the plot doesn’t just twist so she can avoid oncoming conflict, she backs down. For example, in this chapter, when she wants to talk to Christian, but he wants to play sex games, she just blindly goes along with what he wants. She doesn’t even think about it, she just does it. Now, she’s going to be all Marty McFly and act like being called a chicken is her fucking kryptonite? That is utter bullshit. It hasn’t been a part of her characterization up until this point.

Because he’s carrying her, Christian comments on her weight:

“I think you’ve lost weight,” he mutters disapprovingly. I have? Good. I remember his comment when we arrived back from our honeymoon, and how much it smarted. Jeez – was that just a week ago? 

I know. It feels like a fucking lifetime.

I hate the weight thing. He disapproved when she had gained a little weight, he disapproves now that she’s lost some. And it’s only been a week, so it was probably just water weight. Ana isn’t even allowed to bloat without shattering Christian’s fragile expectations.

They go into the playroom, and Ana thinks:

I want this – whatever he has planned. I want to connect the way we know how.

But you’re not connecting, Ana. You’re avoiding.

He strips her naked and shackles her to the wooden St. Andrew’s cross. There’s talk about the citrus and polish smell of the room, and how he’s going to drive her wild. But he never explicitly tells her what is going to happen. He tells her they’re going to use “some music and some toys,” but he doesn’t tell her what he has planned. Sometimes, surprise is good, and I’m not saying you have to sit down and plan every scene out to every last detail – “Then I will put my hand on your hip, and then I will pick up the flogger,” – but when it’s something like what he’s about to do to her, yes, the Dom needs to let the sub know what to expect.

The speakers spring to life, and after a moment the strains of a single piano playing a soft, lilting melody fill the room. It’s familiar – Bach, I think – but I don’t know what piece it is.

This is something that just infuriates me to no end. Ana couldn’t recognize a super famous, often heard pop song. Not the singer, nor the title of the song even when the title was part of the lyrics that she specifically referenced. But from a few notes, she recognizes that a piano piece is Bach. I hate the perpetuation of the stereotype that smart people are smart because they don’t know anything about pop culture. Not knowing something doesn’t make you intelligent. That’s the opposite of intelligence. But so many people who shape our entertainment media seem to think that if you don’t know who Britney Spears is, but you do know who Beethoven is, it’s a mark of great intelligence. It’s not. It’s a mark of ignorance, and no one should pride themselves on their lack of knowledge. That’s asinine.

Also, it makes liking the character very difficult, because it makes them seem not terribly real.

Christian gets Ana all hot and bothered, until she’s right on the brink of orgasm, then he takes out a vibrating wand, and then this happens:

He plants soft wet kisses on my shoulder as he withdraws his fingers from me, and moves the wand down. It oscillates over my stomach, my belly, onto my sex, against my clitoris. Fuck, it’s intense.

“Ah!” I cry out, pulling hard on the restraints.

My body is so sensitized I feel I am going to explode, and just as I am, Christian stops again.

Okay, so at this point, he’s made her almost come, then stopped, three times. The vibrator in question is described as feeling like “a large ball-like object.” So we’re talking about a Hitachi magic wand.

BULL FUCKING SHIT HE’S GOING TO PULL OFF ORGASM DENIAL USING A HITACHI MAGIC WAND ON SOMEONE WHO HAS NEVER USED A VIBRATOR.

Seriously? She would come like THAT. She has never used a vibrator before, this is the fucking Cadillac of vibrators, and she’s so close to popping off that she feels like she’s on the very edge. Bullshit, she just came.

He keeps doing the near-orgasm back off thing (referred to by many orgasm denial aficionados as “edging”), telling Ana that this is how frustrated she makes him:

The buzzing stops and Christian kisses me. He runs his nose down mine. “You are the most frustrating woman I have ever met.”

No, No, No.

“Christian, I never promised to obey you. Please, please – “

She isn’t enjoying this. At all. And not in a “I’m not enjoying this in the moment but in a few here, I’ll be so fucking hot,” way:

I can’t help but feel I’m being punished. I’m helpless and he’s ruthless. Tears spring to my eyes. I don’t know how far he’s going to take this.

She doesn’t trust him. How hot does that get you, reader? She’s shackled up and being tortured in a way she couldn’t have consented to, because he never asked her if she was open to orgasm denial as a form of play. He has initiated a sexual act without her consent. Basically, this is a rape scene.

He’s just going to continue. For how long? Can I play this game? No. No. No – I can’t do this. I know he’s not going to stop. He’s going to continue to torture me. His hand travels down my body once more. No… And the dam bursts – all the apprehension, the anxiety, and the fear from the last couple of days overwhelming me anew as tears spring to my eyes. I turn away from him. This is not love. It’s revenge.

Sexy, right? You totally want to be with this guy, don’t you, reader?

Ana safewords, and Christian stops immediately, unshackling her and taking her to the bed while she sobs uncontrollably. He tells her he’s sorry and asks her to forgive him… before asking if she’s okay. Because he is his first and foremost concern in this situation.

Christian Grey should not be a Dom. To anyone. Ever.

Because the author is so in love with the “romantic hero” she has created, she has to shift the blame off his shitty actions an onto something else, so the reader can still love him as much as she does:

So much has happened over the last few days – fires in computer rooms, car chases, careers planned out for me, slutty architects, armed lunatics in the apartment, arguments, his anger – and Christian has been away. I hate Christian going away… 

HE NEVER GOES AWAY. He was away for one night, and you two are never fucking apart. Leaving aside the blatant misogyny of “slutty architect,” Ana doesn’t blame Christian at all for his role in her breakdown. She never does. Thinking back, how many times have we seen Ana use the “so much has happened” line as an excuse to blame everything but Christian’s actions for making her cry or get angry or frustrated? And if she does blame Christian, “So much has happened” is used to lump his bad actions in with other, seemingly more serious stuff. Because E.L. can’t make this relationship work the way she wants it to work if Ana has too many negative thoughts about Christian. So, rather than alter the hero she’s created so that he can become a better man for Ana, she clumsily tries to show the reader that it’s everything else in Ana’s world that’s the problem. Christian is the only good and perfect thing she has, even if it’s his behavior and Ana’s involvement with him that’s causing her so much misery. The whole series is like one long descent down a shit-covered water slide of Ana’s sorrow and pain as she loses her entire identity in this man who really deserves to be force-fed into a wood chipper.

Ana asks Christian to turn off the music, and his response is:

“Not a fan of Bach’s Goldberg Variations?”

Yes, Christian. That’s the problem. Not the fact that she used the safeword on page 248, it is now the second half of page 249 and you have yet to ask her if she is okay. He’s not even talking to her at all, except to ask forgiveness for himself, because his emotions are the most important.

“Why did you do that?” My voice is barely audible as I try to process my scrambled thoughts and feelings.

He shakes his head sadly and closes his eyes. “I got lost in the moment,” he says unconvincingly.

So… he’s lying? That’s what that means. He just lied about why he did it.

I frown at him, and he sighs. “Ana, orgasm denial is a standard tool in – You never – ” He stops.

Orgasm denial is totally normal and widely used in D/s play. He’s absolutely correct. But guess what? A responsible Dom lets his sub know what to expect. He doesn’t just spring it on the sub during a moment of heightened emotional turmoil, ie, IMMEDIATELY AFTER FIGHTING ALL GODDAMNED DAY LONG.

Page 250, and Christian still hasn’t asked Ana if she’s okay. He’s still only concerned with making excuses for his bad behavior and asking her not to cry. Because again, the most important person in this relationship is Christian Grey, and Christian Grey will not be held accountable for his actions. I’m sure that if Ana keeps crying, he’ll just fire her, like he fires everyone for situations he gets himself into.

What am I going to do with this controlling man? Learn to be controlled? I don’t think so…

I do. Because you already are. But again, I’m 100% certain someone is out there thinking about what a great feminist character Ana is, since she thinks internally that she’s not going to be controlled while outwardly surrendering all control over herself and completely changing every facet of her life and personality to please a man.

“I never what?” I ask.

“Do as you’re told. You changed your mind; you didn’t tell me where you were. Ana, I was in New York, powerless and livid. If I’d been in Seattle I’d have brought you home.”

I can’t. I literally cannot even.

“You have to stop doing this,” I murmur.

His brow furrows.

“For a start, you only end up feeling shittier about yourself.”

He snorts. “That’s true,” he mutters. “I don’t like to see you like this.”

This is Ana’s rationale? That he should stop abusing her because it makes him feel bad?

“And I don’t like feeling like this. You said on the Fair Lady that you hadn’t married a submissive.”

“I know. I know.” His voice is soft and raw.

“Well stop treating me like one. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I won’t be so selfish again. I know you worry about me.”

First of all, he’s not treating you like a sub, Ana. Submissives generally get treated better by their Dom/Dommes than you do. And you just rewarded him for sexually abusing you. You gave in.

Page 251, and Christian has still not inquired as to how Ana feels or if there’s anything he can do to make her feel better. But he does say:

“Your lips are always so soft when you’ve been crying,” he murmurs.

At this point, I feel like this book is victimizing me. I’m sure there are a lot of readers who have had bad situations in their past who feel the same way.

“Deal with it, please. For both our sakes. And I will try to be more considerate of your… controlling tendencies.”

So, there we have Ana telling him to not control her, but if he does, she’ll just roll with it.

He looks lost and vulnerable, completely at sea.

I feel real fucking bad for him, let me tell you.

This is what this is really about – his fear… his irrational fear for my safety. An image of Jack Hyde slumped on the floor in the apartment with a Glock comes to mind… well, maybe not so irrational, which reminds me…

In which our heroine explains why it’s okay for our hero to abuse the fuck out of her, both physically, mentally, emotionally, and sexually. Christian Grey has basically EGOTed every abuse category. Well, except religious. I assume that will happen in a later series, when he finds Jesus. Or appoints himself Jesus in the cult he creates and forces Ana to join.

Ana asks Christian about his earlier “or” with regards to Jack Hyde’s attempts at malicious property destruction, but first she has to point out that she’s talked to his mother about Mrs. Robinson. Christian isn’t down with that, but Ana tells him that Grace blames herself for his involvement with Elena. Which is weird, because I distinctly remember Grace blaming Christian for his molestation in the last book. But here I am, looking for consistency in a book that has never once displayed any at all. Ana tells Christian that she didn’t talk about it with his dad, and thinks about how she doesn’t have “that kind of relationship with Carrick,” because of the prenup conversation. So, Ana doesn’t like Christian’s dad because he tried to suggest a prenup to protect his son? That’s mature.

Ana is incapable of forgiving anyone for imagined slights against her (Kate asking too many questions, Mia being overly friendly, strangers looking at her husband, a father giving his son good practical advice) but she can totally forgive Christian for all the shit he’s done to her. That’s a symptom of abuse, in case you’re keeping score at home.

Christian tells Ana about the “or”:

“The cops found… things in the van.” He stops again and tightens his hold around me.

“What things?”

He’s quiet for several moments, and I open my mouth to prompt him, but he speaks. “A mattress, enough horse tranquilizers to take down a dozen horses, and a note.” His voice has softened to barely a whisper while horror and revulsion roll off him.

So, basically, Jack Hyde’s plan was to drug Ana and rape her. It never says it explicitly, but I’m reading the incredibly unsubtle space between the lines. This is unacceptable to the reader, because only Christian is allowed to rape Ana.

Christian tells Ana that the connection between him and Jack Hyde is that they’re both from Detroit. Christian is from Detroit, so is Jack Hyde.

Why, E.L.? Why did you have to bring Detroit into this? Hasn’t Detroit suffered enough? With the economic downturn, Kwame Kilpatrick, and the 2003 Detroit Tigers? Why are you dragging your shitty fucking book into the mix? Jerk.

No, it’s not Roadhouse. Roadhouse is on break, and season 2 will premiere on April 19th, with an episode about awesome tv shows that got cancelled way too soon.

However! In the meantime, D-Rock and I made a non-Roadhouse project that we like to call Drunk of Thrones. Or, Game of Drunk, depending on how drunk we got as we filmed. Since season three of one of our favorite shows, Game of Thrones, will premiere on March 31st, and there are probably some people who haven’t watched the first two seasons, we thought, “Who better than us to help these poor, Game of Thrones-deprived souls fill the gaps in their knowledge. While we drink a mini-bottle of dollar store wine per episode?”

Drunk of Thrones is the result of that selfless experiment.

In glorious new lighting (I changed a lightbulb in my office), featuring a cast of literally two of us, Drunk of Thrones is all the action of Game of Thrones, without any of the masterful storytelling or cognitive coherence you’d get from just watching the dvds.

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MaOb233f3Co]
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gvo346cS0I]
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iI6PeyTcazU]

Drunk of Thrones: Drunk Throneser will be out next week. But they’ll be, you know. On the internet forever.

Because this is our legacy.