(no subject)
So I've been watching Mark Reads Fifty Shades of Grey videos (which...I feel kind of bad about that, because he obviously doesn't like the books, but his freakouts at various lines and events are both entertaining and informative?)
Anyway, so the book has a bunch of awful parts, but--unrelated to those bits--there was an interesting paragraph that echoed something from one of my favorite fanfics of all time, rageprufrock's The Least of All Possible Mistakes. I found it very interesting, from a writing perspective, how the two passages portray not only their very different protagonists and prose styles, but also very specific kinds of...romantic ideals, I guess? Anyway, should anyone care to read them, I've excerpted the passages below. They both concern a situation where the romantic hero provides clothing to the romantic heroine, and ends up buying an entire outfit (shoes and undergarments included); in fact, weirdly enough, both of the women receive jeans and blue shirts, and both passages discuss the fact that it's the romantic hero's assistant who purchased the undergarments.
Fifty Shades of Grey:
I inspect the bag of jeans. Not only has Taylor brought me jeans and new Converse, but a pale blue shirt, socks and underwear. Oh my. A clean bra and panties--actually to describe them in such a mundane, utilitarian way does not do them justice. They are an exquisite design of some fancy European lingerie. All pale blue lace and finery. Wow. I am in awe and slightly daunted by this underwear. What's more, they fit perfectly. But of course they do. I flush to think of the Buzz-Cut man in some lingerie store buying this for me. I wonder what else is in his job description.
The Least of All Possible Mistakes:
Mycroft’s brought her dark-colored jeans and a pair of soft-looking fawn-colored flats, a cashmere sweater in searing lapis lazuli. There’s also a little black box from a positively salaciously named boutique, which she peers into: cream-colored camisole with a lace neck - kindest thing for her breasts now, frankly, since a bra’s going to be a practical impossibility for a few days at least given her ribs - and a plain pair of panties.
George glances up at him, one brow arched, and Mycroft shifts in the seat like a bird settling his feathers, saying, “The intimates, I assure you, were selected by my very female assistant. I took no part in it.”
“And I guess everything will fit perfectly,” George says, grinning.
She’d been worried it would be something impossible, like ceramics, or a glass vase, something awful and incredibly expensive. George has no doubt these clothes are incredibly expensive, too, but they’re useful, nice, and the sweater is already warm wrapped around her hands. If George had had all the things in the world to choose from, she would have chosen these.
Anyway, so the book has a bunch of awful parts, but--unrelated to those bits--there was an interesting paragraph that echoed something from one of my favorite fanfics of all time, rageprufrock's The Least of All Possible Mistakes. I found it very interesting, from a writing perspective, how the two passages portray not only their very different protagonists and prose styles, but also very specific kinds of...romantic ideals, I guess? Anyway, should anyone care to read them, I've excerpted the passages below. They both concern a situation where the romantic hero provides clothing to the romantic heroine, and ends up buying an entire outfit (shoes and undergarments included); in fact, weirdly enough, both of the women receive jeans and blue shirts, and both passages discuss the fact that it's the romantic hero's assistant who purchased the undergarments.
Fifty Shades of Grey:
I inspect the bag of jeans. Not only has Taylor brought me jeans and new Converse, but a pale blue shirt, socks and underwear. Oh my. A clean bra and panties--actually to describe them in such a mundane, utilitarian way does not do them justice. They are an exquisite design of some fancy European lingerie. All pale blue lace and finery. Wow. I am in awe and slightly daunted by this underwear. What's more, they fit perfectly. But of course they do. I flush to think of the Buzz-Cut man in some lingerie store buying this for me. I wonder what else is in his job description.
The Least of All Possible Mistakes:
Mycroft’s brought her dark-colored jeans and a pair of soft-looking fawn-colored flats, a cashmere sweater in searing lapis lazuli. There’s also a little black box from a positively salaciously named boutique, which she peers into: cream-colored camisole with a lace neck - kindest thing for her breasts now, frankly, since a bra’s going to be a practical impossibility for a few days at least given her ribs - and a plain pair of panties.
George glances up at him, one brow arched, and Mycroft shifts in the seat like a bird settling his feathers, saying, “The intimates, I assure you, were selected by my very female assistant. I took no part in it.”
“And I guess everything will fit perfectly,” George says, grinning.
She’d been worried it would be something impossible, like ceramics, or a glass vase, something awful and incredibly expensive. George has no doubt these clothes are incredibly expensive, too, but they’re useful, nice, and the sweater is already warm wrapped around her hands. If George had had all the things in the world to choose from, she would have chosen these.