A digression, which will tie into the peculiar relationship dynamic at the heart of Fifty Shades.
On her way back to Seattle, travelling separately from Christian, Ana thinks about how she’s managed to render the steel-hard man downright squishy.
Ana has a dream about Christian in a cage, offering her a phallic strawberry. The real Christian wakes her up.
She gets dressed, including borrowing a pair of his underwear (identified by brand name, of course.) I get the impression that Ana thinks this is being deliciously wicked, whereas Christian probably thinks this cute, at best. Remember, Christian’s been in kink since he was a teenager, with 15 prior submissives, and owns a private dungeon. Wearing your lover’s underwear or going commando is training-wheels compared to what he’s done.
I started this project to critique Fifty Shades of Grey, and instead I end up trying to diagnose it. What is this book? And why is it so unexpectedly popular?
I have neglected to mention Christian’s stalker tendencies to my mom.
I see him. My heart leaps, beginning a juddering thumping beat as he makes his way toward us. He’s really here – for me.
Yes, he’s here “for” Ana, the way the Terminator was there “for” Sarah Connor.
Ana continues to show her emotional maturity by teasing Christian via email, on the theory that an airplane in flight is one place where even Christian Grey can’t get to her. Her main objection to Christian’s upgrade is not the invasion of her privacy or intrusion into her life, but making her embarrassed at the airport.
More emails. Ana says everything in email that does she doesn’t say to Christian in person, and it’s hard not to read it as her being so intimidated or outright frightened by him that this is the only way she can express herself clearly. (If this story will be filmed, I bet a lot of the email communications will be converted into face to face dialog, if only to make it more visually interesting. )
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Ana wakes up with Christian gone again. She meets his housekeeper, Mrs. Jones, and goes into another jealous snit over nothing.
Why does Christian only have attractive blondes working for him? And a nasty thought comes involuntarily into my mind – Are they all ex-subs? I refuse to entertain that hideous idea.
Generally, we’ve been criticizing Fifty Shades of Grey on the grounds that it might be harmful to the heterosexual women who read it and develop unrealistic or dangerous expectations of what a BDSM relationship should be. But have we thought about it in terms of how it might affect heterosexual men?
I’m still trying to understand the “why” of this book. I can understand the appeal of the story it is telling, sort of; I concede that I’m somewhat handicapped in comprehending this work on a deep level because it is not for me, a heterosexual man. What’s really baffling is its astonishing popularity. It’s as if some niche fetish like pedal pumping, against all odds, became a hit.
Christian pays an OB/GYN to make a house call to examine and counsel Ana on contraception. This fits the Pygmalion subtext of this story, that Christian is giving her everything that an adult woman should have: computer, car, email, contraception, job, wardrobe, awakened sexuality. It’s a materialist form of initiation: I’m a “sex-having person” because I have the consumer goods a sex-having person has. Of course, this also means Christian is increasingly in control of every aspect of Ana’s life. It’s Christian Grey’s world; Ana Steele just lives in it.
It’s tempting to attribute Fifty Shades‘ phenomenal commercial success to the recession, as a version of “shopping and fucking” novels: the emphasis on brand names, the incredible disparity in wealth and status between the two leads. Ana doesn’t even have to shop for herself, much less develop her own taste and preferences; Christian’s minions do it for her. Apart from smouldering grey eyes and huge schlong, Christian’s main appeal may be old fashioned financial security. Of course, Ana would be a lousy gold-digger; she’d sign his pre-nup without reading it.