So Ariel and I are back at college. That’s exciting. Um, what else is new with me… I’m almost at my 10,000th tweet. That’s pretty cool.
Yeah. What’s up with you guys?
Ana’s bored and wants to go shopping. That is where we pick up this riveting story.
She wants to jet ski from their boat to town, but Taylor doesn’t want get in trouble for letting Ana do something he doesn’t think will go over well with Christian. So Ana pretends to ask Christian for permission.
Christian is on his BlackBerry, leaning against the mahogany desk. […] His gaze is politely expectant. Shit. Why do I feel like I’ve entered the principal’s office? This man had me in handcuffs yesterday.
Maybe Ana went to a Catholic school.
“Will do.” I smirk at him as I exit his study. My subconscious shakes her head and purses her lips. You didn’t tell him you were going on the Jet Ski, she chastises me in her singsong voice.
Ana has a schizophrenic fight with her subconscious.
I ignore her … Harpy.
She jet skis to town with security, and Christian calls Taylor to give him a stern talking to. Ana tries to reassure Taylor that she’ll get him out of trouble.
As I climb out of the boat, I catch a glimpse of his reluctant smile, and it makes me want to smile, too. I cannot believe how fond I am of Taylor, but I really don’t appreciate being scolded by him—he’s not my father or my husband.
Crap, Christian’s mad—and he has enough to worry about at the moment. What was I thinking?
Seriously, read those two paragraphs. Ana immediately contradicts herself. First she’s all “I don’t care if Christian’s mad! He can’t tell me what to do!” and then she’s all “Crap, Christian’s mad! What was I thinking?” in the next sentence. Seriously, how are people not reading this as a story about an abusive relationship? Ana can’t keep herself decided on whether she wants to challenge or completely succumb to Christian’s controlling tendencies for one sentence. Either way, we get to hear her complain about it, which gets tiresome.
Ana goes shopping. She gets an idea.
We were looking at the Venus de Milo at the time . . . Christian’s words echo in my head, “We can all appreciate the female form. We love to look whether in marble or oils or satin or film.”
It gives me an idea, a daring idea. I just need help choosing the right one, and there’s only one person who can help me. I wrestle my BlackBerry out of my purse and call José.
I’m kind of torn on whether or not I feel bad for Jose, because while he did drunkenly sexually assault Ana that one time, Ana also just shits all over him.
His tone chills … Shit, I should not have called him. I don’t need this right now.
“José, I need your advice.”
“My advice?” He sounds stunned. “Sure,” he says, and this time he’s much more friendly. I tell him my plan.
Can you imagine how uncomfortable this conversation must have been? Jose has to give a girl he loves, who doesn’t love him back and has previously turned him down, advice on what camera equipment would be best for taking nude photos of herself for her new husband.
Christian doesn’t really know how to react to the gift, because it’s too similar to the ways he objectified women in the past. But then he gets over it before the novel can focus on something that isn’t a shitty sex scene.
I am reaching … reaching … and he’s driving me higher, overwhelming me, taking me, and I want this.
Is this sentence actually just saying that she wants an orgasm? Well, no shit.
Ana tries to ask Christian about the fire at his office, he doesn’t want to, she starts reciting her wedding vows (what), he recites his wedding vows (still what), and they rekindle their emotional connection and he tells her that it was arson, because apparently this was information that couldn’t be shared unless he was really feeling the love.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He frowns. “What for?”
“For telling me.”
He shakes his head and a ghost of a smile touches his lips. “You can be very persuasive, Mrs. Grey.”
So, um, he literally wasn’t going to explain to her that her life was potentially in danger unless she offered him sex. That is literally the message here.
Later on, E L James demonstrates her lack of understanding modern technology.
I jump on to my newfound toy—Skype messaging—and see that [Kate]’s available.
Skype is commonly known as being the first thing to popularize the video chat and is effectively what made it more accessible.
I quickly type a message.
So they use it to have a non-video, words only, instant message conversation. Which is really stupid, but, honestly, I’m kind of amazed E L James even knows what Skype is, given her assumption in the first book that it would be totally believable that a modern day college student wouldn’t have used email before.
Ana has a nightmare about losing Christian. E L James is terrible at symbolism.
he turns wordlessly and walks away slowly, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the mirrors as he paces the enormous room to the ornate double doors at the end … a man on his own, a man with no reflection … and I wake, gasping for air, as panic seizes me.
A man with no reflection? What is this even saying? That there’s nobody like Christian Grey? That he’s incapable of self-reflection? That he’s a vamp- oh wait…