by Lori Perkins
How do we know this is Ana’s desire and not just something she’s willing to do to please Christian? She dreams about it. In her dream, Christian brings her to orgasm with a riding crop while she is completely restrained. Although Christian is the actor here, it’s Ana’s fantasy. Or maybe her subconscious has really come out to play. In her sleep, Ana can’t hide from her desires, she can’t distance herself from what she wants—and what she wants to do is submit, to be at Christian’s mercy while he pleasures her with the kinds of toys she has seen in his playroom. After being introduced to sex by a master, Ana’s sexual self is emerging—and it is kinky!
If the earlier scenes revealed Ana’s desire for submission, the spanking scene (chapter 16) starts exploring the sexual possibilities of pain and punishment. She is ambivalent at first and the feeling of being out of control returns. She’s clearly confused by her reactions, describing the spanking as “demeaning and scary and hot.” Again, she distances herself: he “makes” her feel this way and she’s unwilling to take responsibility for what she feels: “my traitorous body explodes in an intense, body-shattering orgasm.”
Ana embraces the pain-pleasure of spanking when she and Christian play with the Ben Wa balls. In that scene, Christian pushes her to ask him for the spanking, demanding that she recognize that she wants it as well. She acknowledges her feelings when she says, “I’m lost in a quagmire of sensation” and admits that the pain is not only “manageable,” but “yes, pleasurable.”
Ana starts to embrace her own desires, which in turn helps Christian become the partner she needs. When she submits to him sexually, Christian is able to relax his need for total control outside the bedroom and emotional intimacy develops between them. Ironically, as Ana gives over control to Christian in bed, she stops describing her feelings and reactions as being out of control or overwhelming.
Ana has come a long way from the inexperienced girl who fell to her knees in Christian’s office. When they have sex on Christian’s desk (chapter 21), Ana is the aggressor. She is no longer the naïve girl who believed that love was only “hearts and flowers”: “This is not making love, this is fucking—and I love it.” She can acknowledge her own feelings and desire—not just love but lust: “It’s so raw, so carnal, making me so wanton. I revel in his possession, his lust slaking mine.”
Ana Embraces the Dark
The two sex scenes that take place in the hotel in Georgia show how far Ana has come. First, Christian decorates the bathroom with candles—an example of the “more” that Ana wanted (and that Christian insisted he didn’t do). Christian is still in charge, of course, and tells her what to do (“Put your hair up,” “Lift your arms”). This time, Ana doesn’t hesitate or second-guess her own actions—she just does it. Because she is becoming more comfortable with herself sexually, she is able to “ignore [her] natural inclination to cover [herself up].”
Christian caresses Ana while holding her hands so that she is really touching herself. Since Ana has never masturbated, this is a first—learning to give herself pleasure. Her thoughts make it seem like he is in control: “I am a marionette and he is the master puppeteer,” but she’s the one doing the touching. Her pleasure is truly in her own hands.
Christian takes Ana from behind, standing up. He is physically in control but Ana has learned that there is a difference between submission and passivity: “I grip on to the sink, panting, forcing myself back on him.” Afterward, Ana acknowledges the depths of her own desire when she wonders if she will ever get enough of him.
The scene in the hotel bathtub (chapter 23) is a major turning point. Physically, Christian is in charge: “He clasps his hands on either side of my head and kisses me. Deeply. Possessing my mouth. Angling my head … controlling me.” Her response? “I’m kissing him back and saying I want you, too, the only way I know how.” He is in control and she knows it. She accepts that possession is “what he likes … [and] what he’s so good at.” At first, he holds her hands but later when she asks he lets go and pleads with her not to touch him. This is huge. Previously, Christian held Ana’s hands not because he liked restraining her (okay, not only for that reason), but because he has a phobia about being touched in certain places. Now, however, he can let go because he trusts her to respect his boundaries. She is no longer “out of control” during their sexual encounters—she has acknowledged her needs and can rein herself in enough to respect his needs as well. As before, there is no language about losing herself or being overwhelmed. She understands and welcomes what is happening: “I am starting to recognize this delicious tightening … quickening.”
How does Christian respond to these changes in Ana? When they’re back at his apartment (chapter 25) it’s his control that “unravels,” and when he comes, he groans “incoherently.” Because Ana is meeting him in the giving and taking of pleasure Christian can let go and allow himself to lose control. She has also come to see the pleasure of BDSM, describing the feel of his thrusts as “punishing” and “heavenly” in the same sentence.
The climax of Ana and Christian’s sexual arcs come in the final sex scene, which takes place in the playroom, which Ana refers to now as the “Red Room of … Pain … or Pleasure.” Kneeling by the door, she is “excited, aroused, wet.” She no longer thinks his desires are something evil, to be changed: “This is so … I want to think wrong, but somehow it’s not. It’s right for Christian.” (And evidently for her, too, since she’s turned on and he’s not even there yet!) She gives herself over to Christian completely, recognizing that submission brings both of them pleasure. She is tied spread-eagle to the bed, totally vulnerable as in her dream/fantasy, blindfolded, unable to even hear his movements.
Sex and Love in Shades of Grey
In the beginning of the novel, Ana equated Christian’s desires and need of control as being “in the dark” and pledged to save him by bringing him into the “light.” Now she has discovered that darkness within herself and learned to embrace it. Her desire while she is waiting is “dark and tantalizing.” When he begins to flog her, she is “dragged in to a dark, dark part of [her] psyche,” and realizes that she’s “entered a very dark, carnal place.”
Ana has come a long way from viewing the world in black and white. By opening her mind and body to new sexual experiences, she has come to see that love and pleasure come in many shades of grey.
JOY DANIELS writes erotic romance because she likes to expose her characters completely—strengths, flaws, and scars. Before turning her attention to love and lust, Joy studied oceanography and spent her days trying to save the world one fish at a time. She writes and grows veggies in the Washington, D.C., area with her scientist husband and two curious kids. Since moving south of the Mason-Dixon line, Joy has developed passions for NASCAR and country music and both feature prominently in her stories. She is currently working on a Nashville novel, and her debut novella, Revving Her Up, will be released by Samhain in January 2013. She can be found online at www.authorjoydaniels.com and @authorjdaniels.
STACEY AGDERN
Sexually Positive
AS A BOOKSELLER, I see the rise and fall in popularity of many books; today’s hottest bestseller is often the book that gathers dust on the shelves two months later. I’ve learned all too well that the impact of a title on the reading public can never really be judged in advance. But what strikes me most is when a book forces a change in people’s reading habits. These are the kinds of books that alter people’s perceptions of what they can and will read. Fifty Shades of Grey is one of these books.
Really? What? Yep. Absolutely. I have seen multiple examples of customers who swear all they’ll read are books by authors like Franzen, Wolfe, Safran Foer, Lahiri, and Kingsolver become completely obsessed with authors who have names like Day, Hart, and Burton. All it takes is Fifty Shades of Grey.
But why? Why this book? First, because Fifty Shades of Grey is so popular, most people will shove their genre-based prejudices aside in order to stay current. As anybody knows, t
he ability to join a conversation on a topic of current interest is crucial to fit into society. Water coolers, trains, coffee shops—in each of these places people are talking about “that book.” As a result, everybody is reading it.
But there’s something more than being at the center of a trend that makes Fifty Shades of Grey the kind of book that changes people’s reading habits. What is the intangible factor that makes this book sparkle—that makes it stay with a reader and forces them to reevaluate the way they look at reading? The sex, of course.
It’s not just that there is sex in the book; if that were the case, there would be an entirely different conversation going on in contemporary society. No, the fact is that, in Fifty Shades of Grey, E. L. James has created an atmosphere where sex is seen as a good thing, a source of enjoyment. In short? It’s sexually positive. As a result, it reintroduces into contemporary society the idea that it is okay to read a book where characters obtain enjoyment, and—gasp!—pleasure from mutually beneficial sex.
What makes a book sexually positive?
Two different elements: The first is the reaction of the book’s characters to the sex that takes place during the course of the story. The second is the way the sex itself is written.
First, and foremost, Ana Steele is not painted as a slut or a whore by any of the characters that the reader is supposed to respect after she has begun to have sex with Christian Grey. In fact, instead of being ostracized, she is encouraged both by family and friends to continue her relationship with Grey. Her mother and her best friend in particular are both his champions. They may chime in with advice to be careful if it seems he is going too far, but it is quite clear to the reader that they are on Grey’s side.
Nor does Ana’s professional life suffer as a result of her engagement with Grey. She is shown studying for finals, working a part-time job, graduating from college, searching for postcollege employment, and working in her new full-time job. None of these things has anything to do with Grey, despite how much he wishes to involve himself.
Second, there is the writing in the sex scenes themselves. The writers who are usually nominated for and win The Literary Review’s Bad Sex in Fiction Prize are the kind of writers who make sex seem boring, routine. Winners of this award include illustrious names like Norman Mailer and Tom Wolfe; nominees also include Jonathan Franzen, not to mention John Updike, who received the organization’s Lifetime Achievement Award. In short, most critically acclaimed literary writers seem to believe that it is all right to write about sex as if it is the sort of thing that only those who have lost their mind would engage in.
E. L. James, on the other hand, writes her sex scenes with an eye toward demonstrating that the characters get enjoyment out of the act. Even when there is pain involved, Grey is shown to be adamant that “Miss Steele” finds pleasure. And as the sex happens from Ana Steele’s first-person perspective, the reader is absolutely certain that Ana has in fact done so.
These two elements, when combined, demonstrate James’ interest in creating a story where sex is seen as positive and pleasurable. It is also these two elements that draw readers from Fifty Shades of Grey to authors like Sylvia Day, Megan Hart, and Jaci Burton.
From Fifty Shades, readers often turn towards Sylvia Day’s Bared to You. Although the heroine of Bared to You, Eva, is employed by the corporation owned by the hero, Gideon Cross, there are no negative consequences to her professional life once she enters into a relationship with him. Her boss, who becomes her friend, jokes with her and counsels her, but by no means does he encourage her to stay away from Gideon. There are also no personal consequences; none of the people in Eva’s personal life that the reader is supposed to identify with and respect believe that a relationship with Gideon is a bad thing. And Sylvia Day’s depiction of the sex between Eva and Gideon is electric; she is able to demonstrate to the reader, through Eva’s first-person point of view, how much pleasure both characters derive from the scorching sex they have.
But Bared to You adds an extra element to the basic sexually positive atmosphere that Fifty Shades of Grey brings to the table. Eva is much more experienced than Ana Steele in both life and sex. As a result, the sexual relationship she enters into with the enigmatic Gideon Cross is more of a give-and-take on multiple levels. Eva is not afraid to challenge Cross and his dominance, and in return Cross is smart enough not to push her.
Switch by Megan Hart is another book that readers reach for after they finish Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s a completely different kind of story, but still sexually positive. This is the story of Paige, a young woman who is searching for … something in her life. There are no professional consequences for this young woman as she goes on her journey of personal and sexual exploration. There are also no personal consequences directly related to Paige’s sexual exploration. She is neither ostracized nor judged for her interest in sex. And Megan Hart’s writing is beautiful, painting Paige’s sexual fantasies with gorgeous language that demonstrates this woman is really finding the pleasure she needs.
The element that Switch adds to the basic sex-positive story is the emergence of a Dominant female character. The “something” Paige searches for, and finds, is the ability to channel her need for control into all aspects of her life. It is an internal struggle she goes through until she learns how much being in control pleases her. And, of course, pleases the person she has sex with—namely her ex-husband, with whom she has had a tumultuous relationship.
Finally, we have Jaci Burton’s Taking a Shot. It is the story of a young woman and her relationship with the last person on earth she would expect to have a relationship with. Jenna, the book’s heroine, gets no flak from her family and friends about her relationship with Ty, the book’s hero. She is neither ostracized nor insulted at work, nor by anybody the reader is supposed to respect. The way Jaci Burton crafts the story is simply amazing: emotional when it needs to be and hot enough to melt ice when it should be. It is very obvious that both characters are enjoying the sex they have together.
There are two elements that Taking a Shot adds to this sexually positive dynamic. First, the hero and the heroine are both dominant, they are equals, and they find themselves meeting in the middle more often than not, to their mutual benefit. In fact, unlike the other three books mentioned, this story is told from both Jenna and Ty’s perspectives, taking full advantage of the third-person point of view.
But the second element this novel adds is more important than the first. Despite the scorching sex, Taking a Shot is about more than just lust or dominance. It is about the relationship between two people and the intangible aspects that make the best relationships work. It is more than just sexually positive: it is relationship positive.
Books that treat sex in a positive manner are not revolutionary. Unfortunately, due to contemporary prejudice against pleasure reading, most people have a tendency to dismiss these kinds of books as irrelevant. However, thanks to being introduced to the sex-positive atmosphere of Fifty Shades of Grey, readers have been discovering a wide and varied genre full of amazing characters, wonderful stories, and hot sex written by authors who are capable of burning up a page. It is too early to tell whether this is the kind of paradigm shift that will last long after people have forgotten Fifty Shades of Grey, but it is a shift worth watching nonetheless.
STACEY AGDERN is the award-winning romance specialist at Posman Books, an independent bookstore located in New York’s Grand Central Terminal. She has written reviews and commentary for publications such as Heroes and Heartbreakers, Romantic Times Magazine, Romance at Random, and Romance Novel News. She has given presentations on the effective use of booksellers at regional and national conferences. She is a regular correspondent for Barbara Vey’s “Beyond Her Book” column at Publishers Weekly’s online site and shows her geeky side as a member of the BlackStone Podcast. You can find her on Twitter at @nystacey.
MEGAN FRAMPTON
My Inner Goddess
IWANT TO FUCK HIM.
&nbs
p; Baldly put. Far too blunt for the average person, much less a young college student such as Fifty Shades of Grey’s Anastasia Steele.
Ana is a week away from her final exams when we first meet her—and when she first meets gorgeous billionaire Christian Grey. She is overwhelmed by everything she encounters at his office, from the battalion of blondes who greet her, to the view, to how Christian strokes his index finger against his lower lip.
It’s clear, from the way Christian responds to her, that something is happening, and Ana has no clue what it is. Neither do we, but both of us are dying to find out.
As their relationship begins, Ana needs to find a way to express what she is feeling when she is near Christian—needs a personification of the newly sprung emotions and desires he summons in her.
And thus her inner goddess is born.
It’s not as though Ana doesn’t have inner thoughts before beginning a relationship with Christian, but her thoughts are not personified by any kind of deity—they’re more along the lines of “Wow” and “Holy crap.” Much more immature and insecure. But as soon as Christian engages Ana in sexual discourse she needs a better spokesperson, hence the development of her goddess.
The inner goddess is not a new concept born of Fifty Shades of Grey—there are an endless number of shops and websites with the name selling goods designed to make you feel more satisfactorily womanly. “Inner goddess,” in that context, evokes images of patchouli, beaded curtains, and women-only bonding sessions.
