Let's Read 50 Shades of Grey (and be a b*tch about it) (explicit content)
A note to those from outside EoFF, or who are potentially connected to a publishing company:
This forum is where I first posted this idea, to see if there was any interest. Once I started looking for external support for this project, I became unsure if I should keep this thread on the internet. I thought making my work appear previously unpublished might be more appealing.
However, this thread has garnered the interest of a number of people within this small community and of others who have found it through my Twitter and Tumblr pages. I think that providing evidence that there is interest for my project idea and that it has already prompted intelligent discussion around the themes and concepts explored in 50 Shades of Grey is more important than making it seem as though my work has never been published. I hope you agree.
Thank you for your consideration and I hope you enjoy my work.
50 Shades of 50 Shades: An Analysis
Warning: Don't read if you like 50 Shades of Grey because I'm not going to be nice to it. Don't read if you're squeamish about the blatant criticism of poorly written BDSM sex scenes. Don't read if you would like to maintain the illusion that I'm a nice human being.
Introduction.
Let’s start at the very beginning
The cover of the paperback is made of a strange, smooth material that acts like a magnet for dust. I’m sure that material was designed to feel sensual, but now that it is layered with a permanent coating of dead skin cells I feel the effect has been lost.
After wiping away the dust as effectively as possible, the iconic image of a necktie is revealed. My first reaction is simply exasperation; I haven’t even opened the cover yet and already this book is depicting the man who wears this piece of fabric around his neck, whom one can only assume is Mr. Grey himself, is cold like the steel whose texture was stolen to pattern his tie.
The first page, E L James’ biography, already has a pencil note from the first time I read this book. It expresses concern for her two children. Imagining having a mother responsible for poorly-written and stupidly-famous smut makes me feel uncomfortable; however, my genuine pity is diminished slightly when I realise they are probably benefiting from the ridiculous amount of money E L James is earning from this enterprise.
The dedication and acknowledgement are laden with innuendo. ‘The master of my universe’ just begs to be interpreted in a sexual way, and such phrases as ‘thanks for sorting me out’ and ‘thanks for taking a punt’ sound suggestive in their own right. This is potentially deliberate, given the theme of the book, but I’d prefer to think it was a happy coincidence. Or perhaps everything is exactly as it seems and E L James was indeed ‘sorted out’ by Sue Malone, whoever she is.
Another title card, in case I’ve forgotten what the title of this book is already, and away we go.
Commentary on commentary. It's a thing now.
I find Ana’s musings that Christian might be ‘celibate’ or ‘saving himself’ laugh out loud funny given we all know how far from the truth that is. I’m looking forward to the moment poor, ignorant Ana realises how wrong she is.
Yes, because when an attractive, rich, and successful man rejects you, it's obviously because he's saving himself. Yes.
Ana, the girl who has never been drunk before, has champagne, five margaritas and decides that it’s time for a beer. Ana, the girl who has never been drunk before, is going to pass out before this night is through.
More like puke. I know she's never drank alcohol before, but doesn't she know she shouldn't mix booze? Especially if she has no tolerance for alcohol? Where are all of her friends? That camera guy? Spanish Inquisition Kate?
Christian figures out that Ana is drunk and demands she tell him which bar she is in. Ana dismisses this as him being ‘his usual control freak’. She hasn’t known him nearly long enough to have established his ‘usual’ and if this is in fact his usual, that would be setting off all sorts of alarms for a rational human being.
Apparently in this world it's totally normal for men you've only met three times before you rush to your side because you're out at a bar with friends and drinking is just the worst thing in the world. You need a white knight, sister.
After throwing up in the garden and regaining her senses, Ana asks Christian the completely valid question: ‘How did you find me?’ Apparently he tracked her phone. This man Ana just met wanted to pick her up because she sounded drunk, so he tracked her phone and found her. How romantic.
That's not creepy at all. Ana should probably head back to that bathroom because she's about to piss herself with excitement over being stalked by a guy like Christian Grey.