Fifty Shades of Grey: Part One

Fifty Shades is the series that comes to mind when most people think of erotic literature. No wonder, as the series has sold an estimated 165 million copies worldwide. Its booming popularity, sordid and “deviant” sexual escapades between the naive Anastasia Steele and billionaire Christian Grey earned the book the moniker of “mommy porn.” (And don’t worry, we’ll be talking about that particular phrase later.)

But what exactly is the plot of Fifty Shades? The books back cover gives the impression of a relatively standard romance novel:

When literature student Anastasia Steele goes to interview young entrepreneur Christian Grey, she encounters a man who is beautiful, brilliant, and intimidating. The unworldly, innocent Ana is startled to realize she wants this man and, despite his enigmatic reserve, finds she is desperate to get close to him. Unable to resist Ana’s quiet beauty, wit, and independent spirit, Grey admits he wants her, too- but on his own terms.

Shocked yet thrilled by Grey’s singular erotic tastes, Ana hesitates. For all the trappings of success- his multinational businesses, his vast wealth, his loving family- Grey is a man tormented by demons and consumed by the need to control. When the couple embarks on a daring, passionately physical affair, Ana discovers Christian Grey’s secrets and explores her own dark desires.

The summary of this book leads a reader to believe it is a standard billionaire romance with a BDSM twist. In fact, that’s all a lot of people know about the book. And that’s all some people need to know to hate it. This is the way in which Fifty Shades of Grey creates that rabble-rouser renowned “good trouble.” People were shocked at the idea of mothers so openly reading such an explicit book. Women were mocked for being so brazenly sexual, and along with the ire it drew, it also created a fear in conservative circles. “What has womanhood come to!” they shout in the town square, along with “having an orgasm turns a woman into a man!”

This is not a valid reason to hate a book. I’ve talked before about the radical power of women embracing their own horniness, and this series is no exception. In fact, if the book were what that summary reported it to be, I might not even write a blog post about it. But those who actually read the book find something much darker than a torrid deflowering.

Like a complete misunderstanding of sentence structure, or how people talk. The second thing most people know about Fifty Shades is how poorly it is written.

I know I’ve talked a big game about not judging books based on quality of writing, but here, it is less a subjective opinion and more an objective reality. You are, of course, free to disagree with me, but I was shocked by how abysmal the writing was. Some books are beautifully written, that shake the reader to their core and make them feel every possible emotion. I’m not critiquing Fifty Shades for not being beautifully written, but for failing to reach the basic milestones of a story; character motivation, rising action, climax, resolution, sentences that make sense.

I’m going to include some quotes here, but I honestly recommend finding a pdf version of the first chapter online and scanning through it. Because really, some things need to be seen to be believed.

Here’s a quote from a scene in which Christian and Ana are discussing their sexual contract, and their hard and soft limits.

“Right–bondage,” he says, returning to the list. I examine the list, and my inner goddess bounces up and down like a small child waiting for ice cream. (257)

There’s a running writing quirk where Ana’s “inner goddess” and “subconscious” do various things, but this one is very uncomfortable because the imagery is explicitly childish, and they are discussing bondage.

And here’s a passage that had me scratching my head.

I climb slowly out of bed and note that my dress is hanging outside the wardrobe and my bra is on the chair. Where are my panties? I check beneath the chair. Nothing. Then I remember– he squirreled them away in the pocket of his jeans. I flush at the memory, after he . . . I can’t even bring myself to think about it, he was so– barbarous. I frown. Why hasn’t he given me back my panties?

I steal into the bathroom, bewildered by my lack of underwear. While drying myself off after my enjoyable by far too brief shower, I realize he’s done this on purpose. He wants me to be embarrassed and ask for my panties back, and he’ll either say yes or no.

Firstly, the word “panties” is a crime. Secondly, I now say I am “bewildered by my lack of underwear” anytime I feel confused about something obvious. Thirdly, if you ask someone a yes or no question, the answer will probably be yes or no, Anastasia.

Ok so now I’m asking you if you agree that this book is poorly written, and you are either going to say yes or no. I think we can move on.

The third thing that people know about the book is the controversy that sparked over whether the relationship was abusive. That fact has been highly debated, there were actual protests, and very choice responses from the book's author. Other’s claimed that anyone who thought the relationship was problematic was a prude who couldn’t handle the BDSM aspects.

So here’s where I fall on this: Christian is abusive. I’ll dive into the scientific literature in further installments, but after sitting down and reading all 514 pages, it was very clear to me and I’m going to call a spade a spade.

The abusive nature of the book has nothing to do with the fact that the couple participates in BDSM. It is the fact that the Christian’s dominant status extends so far past the bedroom that he controls every aspect of Ana’s life. There are some scenarios where this is consensual, a 24-hour-slave-contract, but that is not what was outlined to Ana. It’s also not the kind of thing someone experienced in BDSM would ethically offer to a virgin.

I have read a lot of books, so let me offer a description of how I felt while reading this one; sad. I felt so sad reading this book.

Ana regularly refers to being afraid of Christian and how he’ll respond to her very basic requests. She says that he is always angry with her. While the majority of the sex is consensual and not coerced, the book is told through her perspective. This means we see the moments where she feels uncomfortable or scared before engaging in sexual activity are numerous. The first sex scene, in which Ana is losing her virginity, evoked a strong emotional reaction– and not a sexy one.

"I’m going to fuck you now, Miss Steele,” he murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of my sex. “Hard,” he whispers, and he slams into me.

"Aargh!” I cry as I feel a weird pinching sensation deep inside me as he rips through my virginity. He stills, gazing down at me, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph.

Christian becomes particularly volatile when Ana interacts with any man, or does anything by herself without his consent and allowance. Everything she eats, wears, how much sleep she gets, how much she exercises all fall under his domain. This all before the revelation in the second book that Christian “whips little brown haired girls that look like his mother.” (More on the portrayal of BDSM as “motherless/fatherless behavior later).

Though the book is told from Ana’s first person perspective, she hardly feels like a character at all. Just a vessel that Christian does things to. Yes, she is shown as experiencing sexual pleasure, but she has so little control over her actions and her body outside the bedroom that any sense of personhood she has in chapter one is completely removed by the book's final pages. Christian even gets to decide what kind of birth control she uses. In a moment that sums up the entire series philosophy on consent, Ana says “It’s my body,” to which Christian perries, “It’s mine too.”

For a book that became so popular, and is now synonymous with the erotica genre and seen by many as the epitome of women’s fantasy, it’s confusing that the female main character is so belittled, so stripped of agency, so small and scared and childish.

You may be asking, as I did, how on earth does such a book become so popular?

On one level, the answer to this is purely analytical. Fifty Shades started as Twilight fanfiction. It was updated frequently so it was always on the top of the fanfiction.net website. (A fanfiction that is regularly updated and finished to completion is a rarity.) The author, at that time under a different pseudonym even than EL James, a fake name itself, responded to notes left on the fic. For fans, this was an exciting prospect of engagement. For others, it was dramatic entertainment, as EL James argued vehemently with negative posts. The stories' more lurid chapters were available only on the stories personal website, which boosted engagement further. Basically, EL James was a marketing genius of the early internet.

And she landed herself a E-book deal, pulling the story from the internet and removing all traces of its Twilight origins. Though the deal did not come with a marketing budget, EL Jame’s own efforts and the books existing fanbase allowed it to spread like wildfire.

The fact that the story was a serialized publication that went through minimal editing and was simply cut up into three book length sections explains the more arduous problems with the writing. Even great writers like Dickens struggle with turning episodic stories into novels, because put altogether it’s obvious that each chapter ends in a cliffhanger that rarely goes anywhere. EL James probably didn’t have an outline of the entire plot as she was writing, and it was so popular by the time she landed her book deal that no one seemed to think editing was necessary, Therefore, we are left with a Fifty Shades of Grey that picks up and drops plot lines with little care, ambling through sections about lunch while racing through scenes where things actually happen.

So that is how the books came to be, but we are still left with the question of why. Why would anyone choose to read this book? (And since this is a textual format, and you can’t hear my tone of voice, please note that this is said with confusion, rather than judgement.)

There are quite a few scientific theories, which I’ll be going into in the next installment of this series. (Hold onto your hats!) But for the here and now, I’ll share the fantasies that I think are at play.

1. The “I can fix him, no really I can” fantasy.

Alexa, play Taylor Swift! This is perhaps the most obvious fantasy, given that the name “fifty shades of grey” is in reference to the fact that Christian is “Fifty Shades of Fucked Up.” He has been abused and turned into an “ unlovable monster,” and Ana fixes him through the force of her love. As the book reiterates often, she “brings him into the light."

2. The “Protection” Fantasy

Though Christian’s jealous rages trend to the abusive, there is a draw there of never having to worry about unwanted advancements from other men. And naturally, every man in Ana’s life is interested in her.

3. The “You don’t know you’re beautiful, that’s what makes you beautiful” Fantasy

From Ana’s perspective, we are reminded constantly that she is very plain. When Christian calls her beautiful, she wonders if he needs glasses. But from the actions of every man in the book, it is clear she is something of a siren to the male sex– completely irresistible. This ties into the sexist idea of a woman who is beautiful “without trying”-- in the same breath mocking the “wonton” women with their dresses and makeup and feminine wiles. (Call this the “She Wears Short Skirts, I wear T-Shirts” Fantasy.)

4. The “Purity” Fantasy

Ana is not just a virgin when she and Christian meet; she has never experienced sexual attraction at all. She has kissed two men, but also never wanted to kiss someone before Christian. It is even revealed that she has never masturbated before. She is as pure as freshly fallen snow, and though the fantasy of the virginal woman is generally thought to be a male infatuation, Ana’s pure status serves as a reminder that though she experiences sexual pleasure, she is not one of those women.

5. The “Lack of Initiative” Fantasy

I don’t have a snazzy name for this one, but think of it in terms of old bodice ripper romances, where the man rapes a woman as punishment, and then realizes he has the wrong woman when she is clearly a virgin. Then, he tries to make the experience as good as possible for her, allowing her to experience sexual pleasure without being lustful or actively pursuing sex. Though Christian doesn’t rape Ana, he does pursue her intently, and the fact that he is so much more experienced and making all the moves, allows Ana to experience sexual pleasure without being censured for it– without being a slut. This is where the book veers from actual BDSM practices, where though one party may appear to be the one calling the shots, everyone involved is an active, willing, and adequately experienced participant. (Though there is nothing wrong with Christian wanting to have a BDSM relationship, I think there is something wrong with him pursuing one with someone so inexperienced, and so forwardly a romantic. He knows she is going to want more than he wants to give her before they’ve even kissed.

6. The “Special One” Fantasy

Christian has had many lurid affairs before Ana, but none of them came with any emotional attachments. Though his previous subs looked likeAna, and Ana lacks any personality to differentiate herself from them, there is just something about her. Something that makes Christian form an attachment to a woman for the first time in his life. This explains the book’s baffling insistence of showing Christian being a misogynist to every single woman he interacts with– the only woman he is capable of even respecting is Ana. Though he could get off with other women, he could never care for them. Never love them. She is special.

7. The “Goodness” Fantasy.

The world is a dangerous place for women. That danger comes not primarily from shadowy figures on the street, but from the people we know and love. Ana falls in love with a man who is abusive. And she is good enough, kind enough, pretty enough, that no harm befalls her. The world awards her for her naivety not with danger but with protection. And wouldn’t that be lovely? If the heavily red-flagged man you find yourself falling in love with would never hurt you, so long as you loved him good enough? So long as you were good enough? How many women have found themselves looking at their long-term boyfriend, their husbands, their fathers, and realized that they may pose a danger. And it would be so comforting to live in a world where you could keep yourself safe without becoming hardened and calloused, but by remaining open, pure, pretty in a quiet sort of way, loving, and shy. If you could love so well that he stopped hurting you. And that is the fantasy that Fifty Shades offers. And that is why reading this book made me so damn sad.

I will leave you with the final lines of the book, as they seem quite fitting.

I fall onto my bed, shoes and all, and howl. The pain is indescribable . . . physical, mental . . . metaphysical . . . it is everywhere, seeping into the marrow of my bones. Grief. This is grief– and I’ve brought it on myself. Deep down, a nasty, unbidden thought comes from my inner goddess, her lips contorted in a snarl . . . the physical pain from the bite of a belt is nothing, nothing compared to this devastation. I curl up, desperately clutching the flat foil balloon and Taylor’s handkerchief, and surrender myself to my grief.

Couldn’t have said it better myself,

Pure.