Er. Mah. Gerd. Chapter 3. There is nothing funny to say about Chapter 3. It’s crappy, yet lame*. Send it back to the chef, I think he put too much lame in it. First off, this is the worst porn ever. I’m fifty pages in and there is still no sex. I want my money back; I’ve been mizzled**. Whoever called this mommy porn has never seen/read any actual factual porn. Because 50 pages and no sex. This is all pretty tame really. But maybe its just me; maybe I’ve seen too much?
Chapter 3 opens with Ana hiding in the stockroom and calling Kate on her cell phone to set up the photo shoot. The boss’s brother, Paul, walks in and suggests Ana might want to work, or something. It’s a good thing he’s in love with Ana (we’re told), because in the real world Ana would be very fired by now. Hiding in the stock room doesn’t even make sense in the context of the story, because we established in chapter 2 that she makes her own hours, and sets her own duties. Why wouldn’t she make her own ‘call whoever I want on my cell phone at work’ rules?
The actual action of this chapter involves setting up the photo shoot and executing it. ZZzzzzz. These are valuable life-seconds I’ll never get back. Ana calls Christian to confirm a time for the appointment while her roommate chants, “Ana and Christian sittin’ in a tree…” Ok, she doesn’t. But pretty damn close: It seems like the kind of conversation 13 year-olds have. And I have a 13 year old, so I can attest to this personally.
Christian then has his driver take everyone back to school so he can get his freak on with Ana. No. Not really. They walk to a coffee shop and have polite conversation. Ana agonizes again about the gay thing, and muses that she is going to need therapy around the issue. I wish E. L. James would f*cking drop this already, it’s getting annoying. Why is everyone such a GD homophobe? If this happens in chapter 4, I swear I am going to put this book in the blender.
The chapter very nearly almost ends on a high note as Ana falls into traffic (Yes! Yes!) and Christian sweeps her into his arms (crap). Then this happens (Here I quote directly from the book. Avert your eyes if you are faint of heart):
“And for the first time in twenty-one years, I want to be kissed.”
WTF?! What. The. F*ck. Double, no triple, interrobang. Ana’s 21 and has never, ever had any kind of sexual feelings for anybody ever? Just how old _is_ E.L. James? Does she remember being 21? Wait here while I google it…ok I’m back. She’s 49. Maybe she doesn’t remember. In any case, I might be persuaded to purchase this particular nugget of bullsh!t for a dollar if Ana was 15. But she’s 21. Have I said that already? 21.
Which leads me to a revelation. All through reading Fifty Shades of Grey something seemed a little off, and it took me until this chapter to figure it out. Fifty Shades of Grey reads like a YA novel. A dirty, filthy YA novel. Only without the filth. Consider: Ana also tells us no one has ever held her hand. Not her innocent grade 3 crush? Not her mom when she was crossing the road? WhatEVAH! Consider further: there’s not much swearing: Ana says ‘crap’ and ‘double crap’ even inside her own head. And also ‘Oh my’…I mention this because every time she thinks it, this is what I hear:
Sure it’s sexy, but I don’t think it’s what the author was going for. In any case the language and diction, and also the repetitiveness says, ‘written for a younger audience’ to me. Someone ought to be offended by this.
On the stupid front, Ana has a brief moment of panic because Christian has invited her for coffee and she doesn’t like coffee. Come on! She’s that literal? At 21? How did she even get into university? I really think I’m on to something with my ‘raised by monks theory’. How else could she possibly not know that going for coffee means going to a coffee shop and ordering the beverage of your choice? Excuse me while I extract my palm from my face. It’d gotten pretty deeply imbedded there.
Something I haven’t mentioned, but should do: for some reason every time Ana and Christian touch hands, there’s a staticky zappy thing that happens. A sexy staticky zappy thing. It’s a sort of physical instantiation of the ‘whenever we touch it’s electric’ thing but it happens so often that I want to pencil in one of these jigs ^ and write in, “Ana makes a mental note to buy some dryer sheets.” All you aspiring writers out there: less really can be more.
And that’s chapter 3. Srsly. That’s it. Aren’t you glad you aren’t reading it?
*I stole this from South Park. I credit my stolen jokes.
**Misled. I think we all know somebody who pronounces it ‘mizzled.’