Lighter Shades of Grey
Page 2
More wisdom on the subject of manufacturing
“I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I have a love of ships. What can I say?” (p11)
Hi again, Christian,
“Investing in manufacturing” is not the same as “making stuff”. Most CEOs are too busy running the company to personally make the stuff the company sells. This is why huge businesses generally employ more than one person.
“Manufacturing” is not a synonym for “liking ships”.
“Are you gay, Mr Grey?”
I cringe, mortified. Crap. Why didn’t I employ some kind of filter before I read this straight out? (p13)
Hell if I know, Ana. Maybe you’re related to Ron Burgundy?
Christian’s PA is astounded by a last-minute change to his schedule
“We’re not finished here, Andrea. Please cancel my next meeting.”
Andrea hesitates, gaping at him. She appears lost. (p14)
Photo: Ambient Damage [flickr]
Later that day, Christian asked for a different sort of biscuit with his coffee, and Andrea keeled over and died.
World’s most ill-considered job offer
“We run an excellent internship program here,” he says quietly. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. Is he offering me a job? (p15)
Well, Ana, since he doesn’t know who you are, what you’re good at or even what your major is, I sincerely hope he isn’t. That would be the act of an idiot. And I would so hate to think of Christian Grey as an idiot.
Chapter Two
In which we learn more about Anastasia’s family and get to marvel at how very, very literary our heroine is
Anastasia has no self-awareness
No man has ever affected me the way Christian Grey has, and I cannot fathom why. Is it his looks? His civility? Wealth? Power? (p17)
Yes; finding yourself attracted to a good-looking, age-appropriate billionaire who clearly also fancies you back makes absolutely no sense at all.
Anastasia and the law: round two
As I hit the I-5, I realise I can drive as fast as I want. (p18)
Um, no. No you can’t. You can drive at speeds up to and including the applicable speed limit. Same as always.
Sauce for the goose: Kate’s commentary on Anastasia’s love-life
“You, fascinated by a man? That’s a first,” she snorts. (p21)
Just out of interest, why does no-one ever ask Anastasia if she’s gay?
Photo: CarbonNYC [flickr]
Obligatory clunky intertextuality (1)
I work on my essay on Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Damn, but that woman was in the wrong place at the wrong time in the wrong century. (p21)
Yep, she should have been born in our time. These days, we’re totally down with stabbing your lover through the heart because he makes an ill-judged crack about your ex-husband.
Things that are not dreams (1)
That night I dream of dark places, bleak cold white floors, and grey eyes. (p22)
Really? How does that work, then? Are the bleak cold white floors in the dark places? If the places are dark, how can you see the bleak cold whiteness of the bleak cold white floors? Or do you move from one to the other – like, one minute you’re in a dark place, the next minute you’re standing on a bleak cold white floor? And how about the eyes – are they just rolling around loose on the floor, or what?
Fundamental misunderstanding of how home-based businesses work
[My mother] proceeds to tell me about her latest venture into candle-making…I hope she hasn’t mortgaged the house to finance this latest scheme. (p22)
Unless she’s actually built a candle-making factory in the back garden, I seriously doubt she will need to mortgage the house to pay for her starter-kit.
Very few banks would sign off on a mortgage where the stated purpose was “Start candle-making business. Get rich. Buy island in sunshine. etc.”
Obligatory piece of clunky intertextuality (2)
Ray is a skilled carpenter and the reason I know the difference between a hawk and a handsaw. (p23)
No, the reason you know the difference between a hawk and a handsaw is because they are absolutely nothing alike.
Being able to quote from someone else’s masterpiece does not imply that you yourself are actually clever.
Anastasia the alcoholic
Standing on our doorstep is my good friend José, clutching a bottle of champagne. (p23)
At this point I would just like to flag up that – despite a later claim that she never gets drunk – Anastasia gets through a really quite astonishing quantity of alcohol in this novel.
A poor basis for a friendship
Not only do we share a sense of humor, but we discovered that both Ray and José Senior were in the same army unit together. (p23)
I doubt my dad could pick my friends’ dads out of a police line-up. Does this mean we should cancel our friendships and start hanging out with the children of people our parents went to war and traumatically shot foreigners with?
She has read too many books, and it has addled her brain
Perhaps I’ve spent too long in the company of my literary romantic heroes, and consequently my ideals and expectations are far too high. (p24)
Mr Rochester was sarcastic, mocking and frequently cruel. Mr Darcy was rude and socially awkward. Alec D’Urberville was a rapist, and Angel Clare ran for the hills as soon as he found out he wasn’t marrying a virgin. Heathcliff was a psychopath Exactly which of your ideals and expectations would you say these men have set far too high?
Although thinking ahead to who you actually end up falling for…
Has anyone, anywhere, ever met anyone, anywhere, who died a virgin and a mad old cat lady solely because they never met anyone who matched up to Mr Darcy?
The mark of the Sue: wilful blindness to another’s obvious devotion
I watch José open the bottle of champagne…José’s pretty hot, but I think he’s finally getting the message: we’re just friends. (p24)
Yeah, when I was a penniless student I used to take bottles of champagne round to my male just-good-friends’ houses for absolutely no reason all the time.
Surprise about things that are inherently not surprising (1)
Saturday at the [DIY] store is a nightmare. We are besieged by do-it-yourselfers wanting to spruce up their homes. (p24)
Ana, after four years of working in the same DIY store, how can it possibly take you by surprise that Saturday is your busiest trading day?
Mr Grey has entered the building
Holy crap. What the hell is he doing here…? I think my mouth has popped open, and I can’t locate my brain or my voice. (p25)
Unless you are suffering from a disorder of proprioception, you should be perfectly capable of determining whether your mouth is, or is not, open. Please consider consulting your nearest neurologist.
Your vocal cords are stretched across the front of your larynx, as always.
Your brain is in the jar where I’m presuming you usually keep it.
Photo: Kazarelth [flickr]
…or something
His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel…or something. (p25)
Description 101: if you need to qualify your simile with the phrase “or something”, it probably wasn’t that good of a comparison to start with.
Things that sound good until you picture someone actually doing them (1)
I shake my head to gather my wits. (p25)
Objective: convey that the heroine is overcome by the presence of her leading man
Unintended consequence: the reader pictures her in the guise of a large wet dog that has just exited a pond
Photo: johnroberts2 [flickr]
Basic anatomy fail (1)
Why is he in Portland? Why is he here at Clayton’s? And from a very tiny, under-used part of my brain – probably located at the base of my medulla oblongata where my subconscious dw
ells – comes the thought: He’s here to see you. (p26)
The word “subconscious” has no scientific meaning, and as such is avoided in academic circles. Using it looks the exact opposite of big or clever.
Your medulla oblongata takes care of the boring-but-necessary housekeeping stuff like breathing, heartbeat, temperature regulation, etc. This is, indeed, sometimes referred to as your “Unconscious”.
However, it’s worth remembering that your Unconscious is exactly that – unconscious. As such it’s not capable of generating active thought such as “He’s here to see you”, and it’s certainly not possible for you to engage in dialogue with it.
Mr Grey goes shopping for his serial killer supplies
He gazes at the selection of cable ties…What on Earth is he going to do with those?
”Is there anything else?”
“I’d like some masking tape…no, [I'm] not redecorating,” he says quickly then smirks….”And some rope, I think.” (p26)
[Christian to Ana] “What else would you recommend?”
“Coveralls…you wouldn’t want to ruin your clothing.”
“I could always take them off.” (p28)
Yeah, nothing remotely threatening or disturbing here. And I’m sure the guy who came in and bought seventy-five pounds of ammonium nitrate and sixteen detonators was just planning to give his lawn a really, really deep feed this season.
Another one for Anastasia’s collection of slightly stalky just-good-friends
Paul hugs me hard, taking me by surprise…”You’re looking well, Ana, really well.” He grins as he examines me at arm’s length. Then he releases me but keeps a possessive arm draped over my shoulder. I shuffle from foot to foot, embarrassed. It’s good to see Paul, but he has always been over-familiar. (p30)
Listen up, Ana. In fact, listen up, everyone. If someone is touching you in a way you don’t like, you have the right to say no.
Please forget about shuffling from foot to foot in embarrassment, and consider kicking him in the nuts with your foot in righteous outrage.
Paul gets dazzled
“Mr Grey,” Paul returns his handshake. “Wait up – not the Christian Grey? Of Grey Enterprises Holding?” Paul goes from surly to awestruck in less than a nanosecond. (p30)
Think back to your college days. How many CEOs of major corporations could you name? Yeah, I thought so.
Even allowing for the fact that Paul is studying Business Administration at Princeton, “Christian Grey” isn’t that unusual a name. It’s a pretty big leap from “You have the same name of someone who has absolutely no reason to be in my family’s hardware store” to “You are that actual person”.
“Grey Enterprises Holdings” is a really stupid name for a business.
Things that sound good until you picture someone actually doing them (2)
“Would you like a bag?”
…”Please, Anastasia.” His tongue caresses my name, and my heart once again is frantic.
In pronouncing the name “Anastasia”, the tongue stays entirely behind the teeth and is not visible at all. In order to accept the premise that Christian is, indeed, caressing Anastasia’s name with his tongue, I am forced to conclude that he is licking her name-badge.
On the other hand, I quite like the idea that this is what he’s doing, so I’m tempted to let this one go.
Things that sound good until you picture someone actually doing them (3)
I spend several minutes staring at the closed door through which he’s just left (p31)
Readers! A little experiment for you to try:
Go into a large, crowded DIY store
Find a door to stare at
Stand in front of this door for at least three minutes with your best catatonic expression. Do not respond to questions
See how long it takes before you’re completely surrounded by concerned passers-by, creeped-out employees, burly security guards, and the Ambulance service.
Chapter Three
In which we get to admire Christian Grey’s hair, and everyone drinks very sophisticated coffee
Things that sound good until you picture someone actually doing them (4)
“My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me…I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side.” (p33)
WwHeyhy not try this one in public and see what happens?
Basic anatomy fail (2)
“Ana, you’re the one with the relationship.”
“Relationship?” I squeak at her, my voice rising several octaves. “I barely know the guy.” (p33)
Okay, Ana.
The average human voice has a natural span of about an octave and a half. A trained singer can generally manage between two and three. At four octaves, Freddie Mercury’s range was so exceptional that almost no-one can sing his work the way he sang it.
For your voice to rise “several octaves” (i.e. three or more), you would either have to have a natural speaking voice somewhere in the range of James Earl Jones, or be capable of producing a pitch somewhat beyond the range of normal human hearing.
Things that are not dreams (2)
“I am restless that night, tossing and turning. Dreaming of smoky grey eyes, coveralls, long legs, long fingers, and dark, dark unexplored places.” (p35)
I especially like the introduction of “coveralls” into this bizarre still-life collection. Sort of like a collision between Grant Wood’s “American Gothic” and an abattoir after dark.
Good hair, pants that hang from hips
He’s wearing a white shirt, open at the collar, and grey flannel pants that hang from his hips. His unruly hair is still damp from a shower. (p36)
Dear readers,
I refer you to the comment in Chapter One of this book, above. From here on in, Hair References will be coming thick and fast.
The other thing Ana really goes for is pants that hang from men’s hips. Mentioned once, this is not annoying. Unfortunately, this is not the last we’ll be seeing of Christian Grey’s well-hung pants.
Social mobility fail
[Kate] shakes [Christian's] hand firmly without batting an eyelid. I remind myself that Kate has been to the best private schools in Washington. Her family has money, and she’s grown up confident and sure of her place in the world. She doesn’t take any crap. I am in awe of her. (p37)
Welcome to America; the land of opportunity. FFS.
Using other people’s over-reactions to add emphasis makes you sound like a moron
“Christian Grey has asked me to go for coffee with him.”
Her mouth pops open. Speechless Kate! I savour the moment. (p39)
As an experiment, spend a day telling people mildly surprising things like “I thought I might give up sugar in my tea for a week” or “I have six tattoos” or “I met the Queen once when I was small”. Count the number of times anyone’s mouth pops open. If n > 0, I will humbly retract my objection.
Kate has been telling Anastasia for pages and pages and pages that Christian likes her. Therefore, speechless shock is not an appropriate reaction to him acting on this.
Unless she knows Anastasia is gay, of course.
Photo: CarbonNYC [flickr]
Coffee shops do not only sell coffee
“I am going to have coffee with Christian Grey…and I hate coffee.” (p40)
Then, Ana, you will just have to stand outside the shop like a dog waiting for its owner while he goes in on his own, won’t you.
In the coffee-shop, Anastasia comes over all sophisticated
“I’ll have…um – English Breakfast tea, bag out.”
“…Okay, bag out tea. Sugar?”
For a moment, I’m stunned, thinking it’s an endearment, but fortunately my subconscious kicks in with pursed lips. No, stupid – do you take sugar?
“No thanks.” I stare down at my knotted fingers. (p41)
Since the word “Sugar?” is modified by a high-rising terminal, and you’re in a coffee-shop, this
is clearly a contextually-appropriate question rather than an endearment. Interpreting it as anything else makes you look like an idiot.
We’ve already covered the impossibility of engaging in meaningful dialogue with your unconscious, so I’ll just refer you back to p42.
As any mother but yours would undoubtedly tell you, staring down at your knotted fingers when someone asks you a civilised question makes you look surly and rude.
In a post-SATC world, any reference to “tea, bag out” or “bag out tea” is automatically funny.
Good hair, pants that hang from hips (2)
“He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and slim, and the way those pants hang from his hips…oh my. Once or twice he runs his long, graceful fingers through his now dry but still disorderly hair. Hmm…I’d like to do that.” (p42)
Dear Ms James,
There is a limit to the number of times I want or need to be told how well these pants hang from his hips, and we have now exceeded it.
While it’s traditional for TwiHarders to venerate Robert Pattinson’s hair, as this book is not officially Not Fan Fiction any more, it’s okay to get rid of this particular trope. In fact, I insist.
Idle speculation about things that normal people already know
“He has a coffee which bears a wonderful leaf-pattern imprinted in the milk. How do they do that? I wonder idly.”(p42)
Oh come on.
Photo: TandemRacer [flickr]
Ana’s musings about her cup of tea
“Your thoughts?” he prompts me.