Lighter Shades of Grey Read online

  “This is my favourite tea.” My voice is quiet, breathy…he frowns. He knows I’m hiding something. (42)

  Or alternatively, he’s reconsidering the wisdom of going for coffee with a woman who, when asked for her thoughts, can muster nothing more significant than “this coffee shop has access to the same brand of teabags I normally favour”. Your pick.

  More about Ana’s cup of tea

  “I like my tea black and weak,” I mutter…

  “I see. Is he your boyfriend?” (p42)

  Really, Ana, that’s enough on the subject of this gosh-darn ever-lovin’ cup of -

  Wait, wait, wait. Hang on a minute.

  Did Christian Grey just racially insult José?

  Christian eats a muffin (not a metaphor)

  Grey…glances down at his blueberry muffin. His long fingers deftly peel back the paper, and I watch, fascinated. (p43)

  Let’s hope she never sees him peel an orange. She might never get over the shock.

  Twenty-first century etiquette

  “Why haven’t you asked me to call you by your first name?” I’m surprised by my audacity. (p44)

  See Ana, I don’t know how it works in your part of the world, but round where I live, by the time you’re at the going-to-a-coffee-shop-and-asking-for-each-other’s-thoughts stage, you can pretty much take it for granted that you’re allowed to use each other’s first names.

  And I’m British and was therefore born with a stick up my ass.

  More twenty-first century etiquette

  “The only people who use my given name are my family and a few close friends. That’s the way I like it.” (p44)

  Presumably other people just have a special gesture they make that indicates your divine presence.

  Christian and Ana are not quite as good as Bogart and Bacall

  “Are you an only child?” he asks.

  Whoa…he keeps changing direction. (p44)

  Whoa…Ana, maybe that’s because you’re acting like you were raised by wolves and have never before encountered this thing we humans call conversation, and he’s flailing desperately around trying to get you off the subject of your cup of tea and into some semblance of normal conversational exchange.

  Things that are not romantic

  “My mom is wonderful. She’s an incurable romantic. She’s currently on her fourth husband.”

  Christian raises his eyebrows in surprise. (p45)

  Ana, I think it’s the word “currently” that really undermines your central premise here.

  The world’s oddest description

  “What’s [your stepfather] like?”

  “Ray? He’s…taciturn.” (p45)

  Find me one person (other than Will Self) who has ever used the word “taciturn” in everyday conversation. Just one.

  Ana the genius

  “…it’s England that I’d really like to visit…it’s the home of Shakespeare, Austen, the Bronte sisters, Thomas Hardy. I’d like to see the places that inspired those people to write such wonderful books.”

  All this talk of literary greats reminds me that I should be studying. (p47)

  Yep, one person using the names of authors once totally counts as an in-depth literary conversation.

  Chapter Four

  In which a celebratory visit to a bar is paid, and Ana loses it in a parking-lot

  Thanks to a passing cyclist, Ana is in Christian’s arms for the first time

  Kiss me damn it! I implore him, but I can’t move…He’s breathing harder than usual, and I’ve stopped breathing altogether. (p49)

  Oh, if only.

  Conflict does not occur when everyone is making the same point

  What was I thinking? I scold myself. What would Christian Grey want with you? My subconscious mocks me. (p50)

  Ana, the point of empowering your Subconscious with speech is to allow you to explore opposing viewpoints.

  Here, both you and your Subconscious are making exactly the same point, i.e. that Christian Grey is a God among insects whose shoes you are not worthy to clean with your tongue. Therefore,

  All you’ve achieved is to make the inside of your head sound awfully crowded.

  Bizarre over-reaction to mildly disappointing turn of events

  I lean against the wall and put my head in my hands…unbidden and unwelcome tears pool in my eyes. Why am I crying? I sink to the ground…drawing up my knees, I fold in on myself. I want to make myself as small as possible. (p50)

  Okay, E L James:

  Even in the context of your source material, Bella’s epic four-month sulk when Edward walked out at the start of New Moon was generally considered more than a little bit nuts. Therefore,

  When Ana hasn’t even had a relationship for Edward / Christian to bail on, a catatonic collapse in a parking-lot makes everyone reading question her mental state.

  Ana’s adolescence was just, like, the hardest, hardest thing

  I have never been on the receiving end of rejection. Okay…so I was always one of the last to be picked for basketball or volleyball – but I understood that…

  Romantically, though, I’ve never put myself out there, ever. A lifetime of insecurity – I’m too pale, too skinny, too scruffy, un-coordinated, my long list of faults goes on. So I have always been the one to rebuff any would-be admirers. (p51)

  Ana, “being rejected” is not a synonym for “not understanding why it happened”.

  People who are constantly rebuffing would-be admirers do not get to be insecure about their looks. Please try harder.

  Well, at least someone round here’s talking sense

  Stop! Stop Now! – My subconscious is metaphorically screaming at me, arms folded, leaning on one leg and tapping her foot in frustration. (p51)

  Dear Ana,

  A metaphor requires you to make a comparison between two seemingly unlike things which actually have something in common. There’s no comparison being made here.

  From now on, I’m going to start thinking of your “unconscious” as your Common Sense.

  The most dispiriting trade-off in the history of romance

  “…he’s a little out of my league, Kate,” I say…

  ”Okay, he’s got more money than you…[but] you’re a total babe,” she interrupts me. (p52)

  Oh, Kate. And I thought we were going to be friends.

  Since Christian Grey apparently has more money than anyone on the planet, presumably the last thing he’s looking for in a relationship is someone with comparable amounts of money. What on earth would be the point?

  Suggesting that the only way a woman can deserve a rich man is to be unbelievably beautiful is reductive and depressing.

  In fact, it doesn’t take a whole lot of squinting before that starts to look a lot like prostitution.

  But if you’re going to insist - physical beauty inevitably deteriorates over time, whereas Christian’s empire is likely to continue growing. Therefore, if you trade off Ana’s good looks against Christian’s money, Ana will become progressively less and less “worthy”, until eventually Christian decides to trade her in for a younger model.

  Anastasia the genius

  It’s suddenly, blindingly obvious. He’s too gloriously good-looking…His words make sense. He’s not the man for me. This is what he meant, and it makes his rejection easier to accept…almost. I can live with this. I understand. (p53)

  Ana, I really wish I could believe you’ve suddenly realised that not being good enough for a man this shallow would actually be something of a lucky escape.

  Things that are not dreams (3)

  That night, I dream of grey eyes, leafy patterns in milk, and I’m running through dark places with eerie strip lighting, and I don’t know if I’m running toward something or running away from it…it’s just not clear. (p53)

  Look, the barista just wiggles the jug about as they pour the cream in, okay? You can look it up on YouTube if you like.

  And if you’re a really special customer, sometimes they pop in
a nice juicy grey eyeball for you to find at the bottom.

  Photo: KimManleyOrt [flickr]

  Novel approach to alcohol poisoning

  As I down my fifth [margarita], I know this is not a good idea on top of the champagne…I’d better have a beer. (p56)

  Ana, if you want to sober up, drinking more alcohol is rarely a successful strategy.

  Ana does drunk-dialling

  “Anastasia?” ….how does he know it’s me? (p57)

  Christ, I don’t know. How could he possibly guess? I mean, it’s not as if cellphones use technology that lets us programme in people’s names or anything, is it? A total mystery.

  The best way to keep one’s word is not to give it

  I vow silently that I’ll never ever drink again. (p60)

  Just for the record, Ana lasts a whole twenty-four hours before she drinks again.

  Photo: Bayhaus [flickr]

  And I always ask my hamster for investment advice

  Is [Kate] okay? I can see where things are heading for her and [Elliot, Christian’s brother]. I need to do the safe sex lecture. (p64)

  Yeah, I get my best sexual-health counselling from clueless virgins who’ve never sustained a relationship and sit rocking in parking-lots when men don’t want to kiss them. They have all the answers.

  This is why you should never accept drinks from strangers

  …my body [is] no longer able to tolerate the alcohol, and I vomit spectacularly on to the ground… (p60)

  …[Christian] hands me a very large glass of iced water.

  “Drink,” he shouts his order at me…He’s watching me intently. I take a tentative sip.

  “All of it,” he shouts…I drink the entire glass. (p63)

  It’s so warm in here, so loud, so colourful – too bright. My head begins to swim, oh no…and I can feel the floor coming up to meet my face. (p64)

  Okay, Ana, a quick recap:

  You throw up, thus emptying your stomach and presumably ensuring that at least you can’t get any more drunk than you are. At this stage you’re still able to walk, talk and operate your cellphone.

  Christian Grey hands you a large glass of what he claims is iced water. He insists you drink it, and stands over you while you do so.

  Contrary to all expectations, the “iced water” makes you more drunk, to the point where you lose consciousness.

  Call me nasty and suspicious, but I think he spiked your drink.

  Chapter Five

  In which a major felony is committed, but no-one seems to notice

  To prove a kidnapping in a court of law, the following elements must be present:

  Physical transportation of a person

  Without that person’s consent

  Without legal authority to transport that person

  With intent to pursue some other nefarious objective

  America’s Most Wanted

  Oh shit. I’m in Christian Grey’s suite. How did I get here? (p65)

  Okay Ana, let’s take it you didn’t give consent.

  Now you are his prisoner

  I’m wearing my t-shirt, bra, and panties. No socks. No jeans. Holy shit. (p65)

  So he’s taken you somewhere without your consent, and also stolen your clothes.

  Not totally convinced we’re focusing on the right things here

  He’s in grey sweat pants that hang, in that way, off his hips and a grey singlet, which is dark with sweat, like his hair. (p65)

  Look, Ana, I’m all for seeing the good in situations. But if I’d just woken up in the hotel suite of a strange man who stalked my cellphone and stole my clothes while I was unconscious, then my immediate reaction might be a little bit less about the sweaty hair and the palazzo pants, and a little bit more about the moral outrage and the credible escape plans. Just putting that out there.

  Christian the knight in shining armour

  “After you passed out, I didn’t want to risk the leather upholstery in my car taking you all the way to your apartment. So I brought you here.” (p66)

  Oh, absolutely. It’s all her fault. And if she had thrown up on your leather upholstery, you would have been totally within your rights to bill her for the cleaning. Dragging her comatose body through the lobby of a major hotel, into the elevator, up to the top floor and then into your suite was definitely the right choice.

  Or, you could have left her with her friends – those people who she knows, trusts and was expecting to leave with – and let them take her home. Just an idea.

  Christian the gentleman

  “Did you undress me?” I whisper.

  “Yes.”

  …“We didn’t - ?” I whisper, my mouth drying…

  “Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing.” (p66)

  Well, that’s good to know, Christian. When you kidnapped a defenceless woman and concealed her in your hotel suite, I was starting to wonder. But as long as you merely stripped her clothes off, stared at her for a while, then presumably went off to the bathroom for a quick five-finger knuckle-shuffle, we’re totally shiny.

  Just for the record, the term that describes sexual attraction to sleeping or unconscious people is “somnophilia”. “Necrophilia” refers to sexual attraction to corpses.

  Although personally I think you’re protesting too much.

  Christian feels his actions are totally justified

  “You didn’t have to track me down with whatever James Bond stuff you’re developing for the highest bidder,” I snap at him.

  “Firstly, the technology to track cell phones is available over the Internet. Secondly, my company does not invest or manufacture any kind of surveillance devices, and thirdly, if I hadn’t come to get you, you’d probably be waking up in the photographer’s bed…” (p67)

  Dear Christian,

  Technically yes, the technology to track people’s cellphones is available over the internet. However, to install the relevant software without Ana’s knowledge, you must have stolen her phone, installed a tracking app, and deleted the email and text notifications advising her that someone’s now tracking her phone. This is at best immoral, and at worst a federal offence.

  You can buy practically anything over the internet these days, including stolen music, the services of sex workers, prescription-grade painkillers, soiled panties and the right to take other people’s virginity. Just because something is easy to buy doesn’t mean you ought to buy it.

  Although I must admit, I sort of like your attempt to claim the moral high ground. In fact, I may use this myself. If I, for example, were to come to your house with a gun and shoot you with it, I like to think my decision not to personally invent and then manufacture my own design of handgun would count in my favour.

  Just out of interest, Christian – do you often kidnap women who are getting kissed by men who they aren’t really into, just as a precautionary measure in case these men turn out to be rapists?

  Or are you, perhaps, just desperately thrashing around for a plausible excuse for dragging Ana into your car, driving her across town, dragging her out again, lugging her unconscious form through the parking-lot, into the hotel lobby, past the front desk to the elevator (did the staff help you out, by the way? Did they question your actions at any point? Or did they just sit there like stuffed dummies and watch?) and all the way up to your hotel suite so you could play at Let’s Undress Raggedy Anne, all by yourself in your king-sized bed?

  Can you tell how much it pisses me off that this is being presented at a romantic gesture? I really hope so. Women of the world, please take note. Kidnapping Is Not Romantic.

  Further insight into Christian’s moral philosophy

  “Well, if you were mine, you wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week after the stunt you pulled yesterday. You didn’t eat, you got drunk, you put yourself at risk…I hate to think what could have happened to you.” (p67)

  “When my women step out of line, I hit them.” Did you just actually express that sentiment out loud and get away
with it?

  Although maybe you have a point here. I mean, Ana could have ended up passing out in front of a ruthless sexual predator, being taken from her friends and carried off to an unknown location before having her clothes and possessions removed and –

  Oh wait, hang on a minute.

  The Mark of the Beast

  One minute, I’m confused and angry, the next I’m gazing at his gorgeous smile…I quite forget what he’s talking about. (p68)

  Ana, you’ve just described a textbook example of Superficial Charm; a key attribute used in the diagnosis of psychopathic personalities.

  Ana ponders her surprising feeling of safety

  He’s the only man who has ever set the blood racing around my body. Yet he so antagonizing too; he’s difficult, complicated and confusing. One minute he rebuffs me, the next he sends me fourteen-thousand-dollar books, then he tracks me like a stalker. And for all that, I have spent the night in his hotel suite, and I feel safe. Protected. (p68)

  EITHER:

  Christian is a diamond in the rough, a dark knight, an angel with a dirty face. The paradox of your feeling safe and protected, even in a situation of apparent danger, is a sign that you are destined for each other.

  OR:

  Stockholm syndrome.

  Ana wonders why Christian isn’t a rapist as well as a kidnapper

  Does he want me? He wouldn’t kiss me last week…What’s he thinking? You’ve slept in his bed all night, and he’s not touched you, Ana. You do the math. (p69)

  Okay then, how’s about:

  Woman unconscious and unable to give consent