50 Shades of Grey: Chapter 1 and 2
We did it, guys. We walked into the lion's mouth and let me tell you... the odor is quite foul in here.
Here’s a little background you should know before we start: “50 Shades of Grey” started as a Twilight fan fic entitled “Master of the Universe.” The fic was enormously popular, such that the author sat on a Comic-Con panel about Twilight fandom and that her fans threw a convention for her in DC. Lately, the book has gotten a lot of press for being popular with women and “reenergizing” their love lives. It’s also led to some ugly comments about romance being “porn for women” (which it’s not, but that’s a whole other post that Smart Bitches, Trashy Books did better than I) and some concerns about the legality and unspoken rules of fanfic. DearAuthor did a side by side comparison of the two versions and found 89% of the book is identical to the fic. Make of that what you will. We have.
Disclaimer: Neither Ing nor Maya are Twilight fans. Maya is a big fan of romance novels (particularly historicals) and Ing is familiar with the genre. So don’t bring your romance hate up in here. Now! Lets' get cracking!
I scowl with frustration at myself in the mirror. Damn my hair - it just won’t behave, and damn Katherine Kavanagh for being ill and subjecting me to this ordeal. I should be studying for my final exams, which are next week, yet here I am trying to brush my hair into submission. I must not sleep with it wet. I must not sleep with it wet. Reciting this mantra several times, I attempt, once more, to bring it under control with the brush.
(this is, honest to god, how this whole book starts)
Ing: So this glorious piece of literature starts with the introduction of Anastasia Steele, who is the most boring protagonist known to man. Probably.
Maya: She's an English major at Washington State University and she's boringly mad at her journalism roommate for getting sick and making her go interview billionaire Christian Grey by herself. I WONDER WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN THERE
Ing: Yeah, it's riveting isn't it. The roommate is portrayed as being ~so dedicated and super aggressive about getting awesome cases~ and yet she can't power through a cold to go interview this huge scoop. So consistency, A+. So she goes to interview this Christian Grey guy and he is, unsurprisingly, a complete dick
“Business is all about people, Miss Steele, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well.” He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare.
Maya: And the questions Katherine sent with her are really, really inappropriate. He's supposedly this huge donor to their school and she's delving into his personal space and life in an incredibly awkward and uncomfortable way
Ing: Seeeeriously. one of the questions is, legit, "ARE YOU GAY?" because he doesn't have a giiirlfriend. Awkward. And Anastasia acts all horrified about asking it, but you could've just...idk...NOT ASKED IT?!
Maya: Also, there are the standard romance novel frissons of attraction between the two of them of course. But Ana is incredibly unaware of her own bodily functions and it's really quite annoying
Why does he have such an unnerving effect on me? His overwhelming good-looks maybe? The way his eyes blaze at me? The way he strokes his index finger against his lower lip? I wish he’d stop doing that.
Ing: Yeah, I mean, Ana continues this whole stupid trope Bella got stuck with about being clumsy. Because being clumsy is so adorable and idk, the whole interview is boring as fuck. But she basically leaves without being able to get him ~out of her mind~
Maya: So Ana turns him down and drives back to her school where Katherine is magically well enough to transcribe the whole interview and teases Ana about being attracted to him
Ing: AND THEN. AND THEN comes the best part so far…ENTER JOSÉ. WHO IS HEREBY DUBBED JOSACOB. Because, who are we kidding, it's Jacob
Maya: It's really here where it is so incredibly obvious she just Replaced All the names from the fic. Jose is tall and dark and muscular, his dad is old friends with her dad, and he's attracted to her and wants to date her but she just wants to be BFFs. COME. ON.
I watch José open the bottle of champagne. He’s tall, and in his jeans and t-shirt he’s all shoulders and muscles, tanned skin, dark hair and burning dark eyes. Yes, José’s pretty hot, but I think he’s finally getting the message: we’re just friends. The cork makes its loud pop, and José looks up and smiles.
Ing: Yeeeah. And Ana's mother is basically Bella's mother, just... idk it's basically the same person
Maya: Same with her dad, except instead he's her ex-stepfather and likes tools instead of hunting.
Ing: Couldn't she at least have put some effort into changing some of these details? Anyway, then Ana goes to work in some kind of...hardware store. and LE GASP Christian Grey shows up there because he likes...hardware-y things.
Maya: He says he's there to look at stuff in the agricultural science program and he needs tools or whatever and they are attracted again. And make plans for her to try and get some photos for the article
Ing: And what follows is the most asinine attempt at flirting and double entendres that I have ever, ever witnessed. Like I legit cannot. She's throwing buckets of UST over the whole thing and just covering it in ridiculously unsubtle UST.
“Anything else?” My voice is husky and breathy. His eyes widen slightly.
“Some rope, I think.” His voice mirrors mine, husky.
“This way.” I duck my head down to hide my recurring blush and head for the aisle.
“What sort were you after? We have synthetic and natural filament rope… twine… cable cord… ” I halt at his expression, his eyes darkening. Holy cow.
Ing: AND THAT'S THE PLOT SO FAR. So now we can discuss everything we hate
Maya: Well, first of all, the author is clearly British and her beta clearly never picked up on the blatant British-isms she used. For example: an American wouldn't say they were good at DIY, because while DIY is used in America, it's not nearly to the extent it is in Britain and as a noun the way the British use it. Also, an American wouldn't ring things up at a till. It’s a cash register
Ing: But this ties into the laziness when it comes to changing this from fanfic to an original text. In fanfic, it had to be set in Washington, but why didn't she go through the text and set it to something more fmailiar to her like London? In a fanfic, those things are forgivable. In a published book, not so much. Just, the complete lack of effort into giving this book an original universe is astounding
Maya: If someone was coming into this not knowing at all that it was related to Twilight, maybe they wouldn't see the similarities, but any foreknowledge makes it completely obvious.
Ing: It's really fucking awful when we can sit down and pick out characters and say 'this is fucking Jacob, like, this is Jacob hello'
Maya: Which is one of the issues coming up in this debate. These characters are, personality and relationship wise, very very similar to their Twilight counterparts. If she had changed locations, personality, etc. there wouldn't be a debate about the legality, but that's not the case. Just because "Christian" isn't a vampire doesn't mean the similarities aren't blatant and concerning
Ing: Another thing I really, really loathe about this book is that the writing is just so awful and colourless. Say what you will about Tyra Banks, but you can spot her writing style from the moon. This book could be written by anyone. I couldn't pick out this writing style in a line up with ANY generic fanfic writer. The descriptions are terribly bland and the sentences are more often than not of the 'I went into the kitchen and got myself some tea', 'I saw someone at the door and they smiled' variety. There's no variety in the language at allll. And there are SO many excellent writers in fanfic and yet THIS is who gets published
For the rest of the week, I throw myself into my studies and my job at Clayton’s. 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. By Wednesday, she’s much better, and I no longer have to endure the sight of her pink-flannel-with-too-many-rabbits PJs. I call my mom in Georgia to check on her, but also so she can wish me luck for my final exams. She proceeds to tell me about her latest venture into candle making - my mother is all about new business ventures.
Maya: Also, there's my pet peeve, where Ana talks about her medulla oblongata being the seat of her subconscious which talks to her. Look, I get there's a lack of science education, but a quick Wikipedia search will tell you that the medulla is responsible for breathing, salivation and vomiting, among other not conscious behaviors. And your subconscious is called such because it is below your conscious notice. If your mind is speaking to you, as it does to most people, it is not below your conscious notice. THIS IS WHY I NEED TO WRITE "NEUROSCIENCE FOR WRITERS"
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. No way! I dismiss it immediately.
Ing: CAN WE DISCUSS THE TERRIBLE IMAGERY IN THIS "BOOK". I am appalled and disgusted with the ridiculous heavy-handedness of the imagery in this thing. Imagery isn't supposed to hit you over the head like a fucking ton of bricks, it's just supposed to add colour and discriptive touches to your prose. It's not stupposed to smack you in the face and make you stagger backwards while blood spews out your nose. When Ana is flirting with Christian and she feels uneasy, the writer of this thing decides to describe it as if she's on "SHIFTING TECTONIC PLATES". It's like... oh god. Oh. god. WE ARE ALL ON SHIFTING TECTONIC PLATES. ALSO, YOU CAN'T FEEL THEM. THIS IS AN IMAGE THAT DOES NOT WORK, OKAY. IT ALSO MAKES YOU LOOK LIKE A RAGING DUMBASS. Also, describing absolutely EVERYTHING in this novel as gray is asinine and infuriating. We get it, okay? We get it. Now, please stop.
Our fingers brush very briefly, and the current is there again, zapping through me like I’ve touched an exposed wire. I gasp involuntarily as I feel it, all the way down to somewhere dark and unexplored, deep in my belly.
I gaze at him unable to express myself. I’m on shifting tectonic plates.
Yes, sweetie. We all are.
Also:
He smiles, then strides with renewed purpose out of the store, slinging the plastic bag over his shoulder, leaving me a quivering mass of raging female hormones
Fuck, you author. Fuck you and your 'quivering mess of raging female hormones'. >:{
Aren't you just glad we're reading this? :D
....
yeah, neither are we :P