Tuesday, November 20, 2012

Fifty Shades chapters 11-14, aka Porn for Asexual Attorneys

What can I say about chapters eleven through fourteen of Fifty Shades except that they're truly fucking insipid? There's hardly anything to discuss about them. A few samples of strange writing can be found, but not much.
 
Vaguely, I’m aware that I’m still in my sweats, un-showered, yucky, and he’s just gloriously yummy, his pants doing that hanging from the hips thing, and what’s more, he’s here in my bedroom. 

"Yucky?" "Gloriously yummy?" The only possible explanation for a publisher giving this book the green light is that E.L. James probably sold her soul to Satan. It was a win-win situation, too, since I know E.L. gets wet thinking about having her skin flayed off for all eternity.

Finally, my medulla oblongata recalls its purpose, I breathe.

Sorry, you still don't sound like you've been anywhere near a formal education, E.L. I know you try to hide it with the big words, but things like this betray you:

He pops a fragment of ice in my navel in a pool of cool, cold wine.

Cool and cold, huh? This, too:

I am beyond warm – warm and chilled and wanting.

I am so warm that I'm cold.

Taking a deep breath and mentally girding my loins, I head into the hotel.

Does this guy have an egg beater for a penis? All the better to scramble his eggs with, I guess.

He glances, nervously I think, toward the entrance and stills when he sees me.

The only other instance in this book where Grey is described as "stilling" is when he orgasms. This gives the very amusing impression that Mr. Christian Grey has just creamed his pants in the middle of a restaurant.

Unbidden, I recall my dream from this morning, and the muscles in my belly do the delectable clench thing.

... Are we both from the same planet, E.L.? You seem kind of... odd...

I close my eyes as my insides uncoil and melt.

That's it! You're a godsdamn toaster! Out the airlock with you!

But seriously, the last sixty pages of Fifty Shades has been pure boring drivel. At least Twilight was really absurd all of the time, which made it fun to read even though it was never close to being good. Fifty Shades is simply mundane.

For example, chapter eleven begins with seven pages of the legal contract outlining the terms of their BDSM relationship. That's right; it's seven pages of sex being discussed in dry legal terms. I mean, if someone genuinely thinks appendices are pure sex, then there's a much better way to write it. How about this:

"You know why I've asked you to come here, don't you, Ms. Steele?" In the dim light of the moon coming through the office window, he looked absolutely yummy. Holy crap. "Of course you know. You've been a very naughty girl, Ana. Very naughty indeed."
I bit my lip, anticipating what was coming next. Could we about to engage in... Legal intercourse?
"You've gone delinquent on article six, subsection three of our agreement. There are penalties for this, Ms. Steele. Stiff penalties. Come closer."
I nearly swooned, my head spinning from the thought of Christian Grey perusing my documentation. He had an undeniable animal magnetism when he talked about non-disclosure agreements, and it made my insides flutter and churn to think about him gently stroking my legal portfolio. I had no choice but to obey.
"Submit yourself to the power of attorney, Ms. Steele." He pulled down my legal briefs, revealing my loophole.
"Please sir, I want you litigate me. I want you to litigate me hard!"
"Silence in the court, you filthy tart!" He brought his gavel down hard again and again, marking my capital assets in red.
"Oh, yes! Violate the terms of my contract! Violate it again and again!"
He put his throbbing subpoena into my hands, and I caressed his subordinate clauses.
"I'm going to release you from your legal obligations... All over your face!"
"Oh, I'm coming! I'm coming! I'M COMING TO MY COURT APPEARANCE!" I screamed, as Christian stilled and removed his pro bono from my posse comitatus.
"Could we get a third party to arbitrate for us?" I gasped, nearly out of breath.
"A threesome, eh? You're a kinky little minx, Anastasia."

Anyhow, the problem with Fifty Shades of Grey is that it it takes all of the mystery, intrigue and spontaneity out of sex. A legal contract that explicitly states everything they're going to do leaves no tension or anticipation whatsoever. It's also really awkward and boring. Once again, Fifty Shades manages to completely mishandle erotic literature.


2 comments:

  1. egg beater for the penis, bwAAAAhahahaaha! so glad to see you're still updating this blog, dude. I need more of this to get through the week sober and not-suicidal.

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  2. "This gives the very amusing impression that Mr. Christian Grey has just creamed his pants in the middle of a restaurant."

    I was at work when I read this part, and just burst out laughing. People are staring at me now. HAHAHAHA!!! BEAUTIFUL!! I love this.

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