Ana Gets As Drunk As You Have To Be To Read This: Fifty Shades of Grey Chapters 4 and 5

Well, I have bad news, everyone. A friend of mine saw this blog on Facebook and gave me a warning that we’ve got a little bit of a wait ahead of us before we get to the sexy parts of this book.

Pictures and names blurred to protect the identities of people who actually read this book.

Chapter Four

In a shocking turn of events, Christian rejects Ana when she thinks really hard at him to get him to kiss her. Note that the shocking turn of events isn’t that she was unsuccessful in, you know, willing him to kiss her, which doesn’t usually work, but rather that after all of Christian’s creepy advances, he suddenly loses all interest. I think this is supposed to make him seem complicated, but, spoiler, it’s just inconsistent characterization and bad writing.

Kate is sitting at the dining table at her laptop when I arrive. Her welcoming smile fades when she sees me.
“Ana, what’s wrong?”
Oh no … not the Katherine Kavanagh Inquisition.

Nobody expects a Monty Python reference on the internet!

Ana has a hilariously inconsistent conversation with Katherine about Christian which is almost impressively irreverent and misguided (“he’s a little out of my league, Kate” … “Okay, he’s got more money than you”) before going to study. Thankfully, we don’t get any more of Ana’s fantastic English major analysis like “Damn, that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century”, and instead skip to her finishing her last exam.

It’s Friday, and we shall be celebrating tonight, really celebrating. I might even get drunk! I’ve never been drunk before.

Because everybody loves that person who put off ever getting drunk to their last year of college and will spend the entire night telling everybody that, hey guys, they’re drunk! This is so weird! Haha, I must tell everybody what this feels like all night long! Everybody! Every. Single. Person.

This is what it’s like – probably not an experience to be repeated.

Ana continues to alternate between hilarious and groan-worthy stereotype, throwing the “Are you trying to get me drunk? Because I think it’s working” line at Jose and drunk dialing Christian Grey. She goes outside to get some air and Jose follows her and then things get a bit sexual assaulty and also a bit racist.

“No, Jose, stop-no.” I push him, but he’s a wall of hard muscle, and I cannot shift him. His hand has slipped into my hair, and he’s holding my head in place.
“Please, Ana, cariƱo,” he whispers against my lips.

But then Christian Grey shows up! Having somehow gotten from Seattle to Portland in about five minutes.

“I think the lady said no,” a voice in the dark says quietly. …
“Grey,” he says tersely. I glance anxiously up at Christian. He’s glowering at Jose, and he’s furious. Crap.

Okay, as has been established previously, Ana has a sort of “crap scale” for assessing uncomfortable situations. From the examples we’ve gotten so far, Ana’s roommate asking her about her love life merits a single crap, whereas making a fool of herself in front of a very attractive man is a more uncomfortable situation meriting a double crap. So why the fuck does being sexually assaulted by a close friend only rank at a single crap? Less importantly, but still a relevant question, why the fuck does Christian’s sudden ability to teleport only rank at a single crap?

I was looking for a picture to make a “Beam me up, Scotty. There’s no intelligent life down here.” joke, saw this, went “Wait, is that Frances Bean Cobain?”, and, uh, now this picture is here.

My stomach heaves, and I double over, my body no longer able to tolerate the alcohol, and I vomit spectacularly on to the ground.
“Ugh – Dios mio, Ana!” Jose jumps back in disgust.

I think we can assume that E L James isn’t Team Jacob.

I’m on my own with Grey. Double crap.

No, seriously, how is this worse than sexual assault?

Oh, Ana … are you ever going to live this down? My subconscious is figuratively tutting and glaring at me over her half-moon specs.

Oh, right, she’s schizophrenic and thinks her subconscious is an entity inside her mind that mocks her, scolds her, and evidently has poor eyesight. This explains the inconsistencies of the crap scale, I guess. As far as other weird things go, Christian’s brother Elliott is maybe hooking up with Kate and I kind of want to explore this Christian+Elliott wingmen dynamic but Ana gets sick again, probably because Christian decided it was a good idea to bring her onto the dance floor even after she threw up to the point of dry heaving, and then the chapter ends with Christian shouting “Fuck!”. Foreshadowing, anyone?

Chapter Five

Ana wakes up in Christian Grey’s bed in his hotel suite, tries to figure out how this happened, and I’m going to point out a line that made me laugh not because it’s poorly written.

Fractured memories of the previous night come slowly back to haunt me. The drinking – oh no, the drinking

You’ll note, however, that I’m basically still just laughing at the book and not with it, but that’s still a bit better!

I glance at the bedside table. On it is a glass of orange juice and two tablets … The orange juice tastes divine. It’s thirst-quenching and refreshing.

Okay, show of hands: has anybody ever been hungover and thought “I bet some orange juice would help me feel better!”
(note: As it turns out, Ariel and I actually argued about this point after I made this joke, so I guess orange juice has some value as a hangover remedy, but I personally can’t imagine the acidity making you feel any better, so I maintain that my joke is still valid.)

The debate rages on.

“We didn’t-” I whisper, my mouth drying in mortified horror …
“Anastasia, you were comatose. Necrophilia is not my thing. I like my women sentient and receptive,” he says dryly.

OH MY GOD, SENTIENCE IS SO HOT.

After some more weirdness from Ana’s subconscious (“she’s doing her happy dance in a bright red hula skirt”), Ana tells us how great Christian Grey is in much the same way crazy people describe their attraction to any generic Byronic hero, and Christian comes out of the shower in a towel.

Michelangelo’s David has nothing on him.

Well, David‘s got a fairly small penis, and I imagine that’s not the direction this book is going to go in. Although the bar for sexiness is surprisingly low so far:

“I’d like to bite that lip,” he whispers darkly.
…That has got to be the sexiest thing anybody has ever said to me.

Christian and Ana finally stop beating around the bush and discuss getting their bone on (not how the book words this) and arrange to meet up that night so Christian can show Ana some sort of secret, and she immediately jumps to “Does he white-slave small children?”, which is… an interesting first guess. They confirm these plans and Ana goes to brush her teeth and uses Christian’s toothbrush with so much lust that I imagine a dentist would die from shock reading this.

I eye Christian’s toothbrush. It would be like having him in my mouth … I feel the bristles on the toothbrush. They are damp … I squirt toothpaste on it and brush my teeth in double time. I feel so naughty.

Oh and then they kiss in an elevator.

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4 comments

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