Thursday, 5 July 2012

Chapter Ten: Part One

Chapter Ten – Part One

So, we’re about to meet Christian’s mother. We’re about to get some sort of insight into his life when he’s not hanging girls from the ceiling. Excited? No. You bet.

Christian and Ana scramble around, putting their clothes on. Ana contemplates that she might just stay hiding in his bedroom, but Christian seems pretty keen that she meet his mother (let’s just refresh our memories; this is the fifth time they’ve met and they haven’t even known each other for two weeks yet. But yeah, he’s totally keen to introduce her to the fam).

Christian leaves Ana to get dressed. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s not wearing clean panties,” complains Ana. Isn’t that something universally hated by every woman ever? This doesn’t even need to be stated.

Ana puts a pair of Christian’s boxers on. She goes to look at herself in the bathroom mirror and her subconscious supposedly mouths the word “ho” at her. Someone needs to remove all blunt objects from my home before I hit myself over the head with one. The attitudes to sexually active women in this book are horrendous.

When Ana meets Christian’s mother, we are treated to a description of just how beige she is. I mean, the word ‘beige’ is never actually used, Ana goes for words like ‘sandy’ and ‘camel-coloured’, but what she really means is that this woman is the epitome of white, upper-middle-class beige-ness. 

Dr Grace Trevelyan-Grey turns out to be a very inoffensive lady, who seems very pleased to see that her adopted son has found a woman. Sweet. Ana’s phone starts ringing, and she (rather rudely, for someone who’s meeting someone’s parents for the first time) goes to answer it in the kitchen.

“Dios mio! Ana!” Jose is the only ethnic minority in the whole book, and as such, the author has him remind the reader of this, in an embarrassingly stereotypical way, at every opportunity. “Dios mio, I’m so diverse! Now, where did I leave my sombrero? Anyone for tacos?” 

The phone call is pointless and adds nothing to the plot; he’s basically calling to ask why she wasn’t returning his calls, and Ana says that this isn’t a good time and hangs up on him. That bitch.

By the time Ana is hanging up the phone, Christian’s mother is saying goodbye and leaving. What a flying visit. Guess E. L. James got bored of actual character development and just wanted to get back to the filthy sex. “So the photographer called?” asked Christian. He’s not impressed. Christian is the worst kind of guy because he’s a possessive guy with technology. He won’t wait until you’re out of the room until he checks your phone; he’ll just have it tapped and intercept all your messages. He won’t call you to check up on you when you’re not around; he’ll have his bodyguard tail you and report back to him all day long. Swoon.

Christian has to make some important business calls, so he gives Ana the official contract to look over and tells her to do some research if there’s anything she doesn’t understand. Ana says she doesn’t have access to the internet, or a computer. She’s just finished four years of university education, but sure, she doesn’t have a computer or home broadband. Right.

Christian says he'll lend her a laptop and they leave his apartment. “He’s wearing a black leather jacket. He certainly doesn’t look like the multi-multi-millionaire, billionaire, whatever-aire, in these clothes.” 
This sentence doesn’t make any sense. Brb, going to blow my own brains out.

Christian concedes that Ana can break the terms of their confidentiality agreement to have some much-needed girl talk with Kate (I bet that’ll be insightful). “The sooner I have your submission the better, and we can stop all this. You, defying me,” says Christian. Oh, brother. 

They go to get in Christian’s sporty car. “It’s one of those cars that should have a very leggy blonde, wearing nothing but a sash, sprawled across the hood,” Ana thinks. Again with the objectification. I find this sentence gross. That’s all I need to say.

They put on matching baseball caps as he lets the top of the convertible down. “He likes baseball?” ponders Ana. Yes, you dimwit, this is Twilight fan-fiction, don’t you know.

They stop halfway back to Ana’s for some food at a place called ‘Cuisine Sauvage’. Christian goes right ahead and orders for Ana, because he’s a complete douchebag. “Two glasses of the Pinot Grigio,” he says, clearly forgetting that he’ll soon be in control of a very fast sports car with a naked blonde woman clinging to the hood.

They start talking about vanilla sex and BDSM over lunch. Christian sensationally reveals that he lost his virginity to one of his mother’s friends when he was fifteen, and was her submissive for six years. It finally happened! Character development! I could cry tears of joy right now. 

Christian fondly reflects that his ex-dom used to beat the shit out of him. Ah, good times. Apparently, he still sees his ex-dom, and they’re very good friends. This genuinely sounds like the healthiest relationship Christian has, bearing in mind that he doesn’t seem to have any other friends besides his bodyguard. Predictably, Ana doesn’t like it.

Christian urges Ana to read the contract when she gets home and ask any questions she needs to. Things are getting pretty deep, and I know what you must be thinking: “Wow, I bet Ana’s head is absolutely swimming with thoughts and questions and confusion about the huge, life-changing decision she has to make here.” Nope, she’s off in her own little world, thinking about how much Christian must work out to stay in shape, and the way his pyjamas hung from his hips that morning. Get a grip, woman.


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