I have decided to preface the latest recap with an urgent appeal to Stephenie Meyer, writer of Twilight.
I want to apologize for saying your books are the most sucktastic books in the history of ever and for calling you a hack writer that can’t even spell her first name correctly. That was mean. I am truly sorry. For karma hath reared her ugly head, and hath brought from her fiery bosom Fifty Shades of Grey. In comparison, you are a fabulous writer, and your books are so awesome. I only have one request, and if you will just honor it I will never say bad stuff about Twilight again; in fact I will recommend it be nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. I want you to face off with E.L. James who has clearly stolen some of your material and somehow managed to both make it worse and make money off of it. You don’t have to sue her, although that would be cool. Just go to the media and start a shit storm about her and I will be ever so happy. Truly, that might make not just my day, but my entire life. I will never ask for anything ever, ever again so help me Edward.
Your Greatest Fan.
Okay. With that out of the way, we go back to our regularly scheduled snark already in progress. Chapter 11 brings us The Contract. All of it. Even three appendixes. I think she copied this off the internet somewhere. She even includes the bits that we read in the last chapter. It’s a big long mess of psychotic slavery legalese. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the terms warranty and buttplug in the same document before, but there’s a first time for everything. The only part of the contract we don’t see is the part where he tells her what she can and can’t eat, because Ana just can’t go there, you know.
Ana gets her Macbook (product placement presents!) from Christian. She reveals that she does not have an e-mail address. Just – I don’t – she’s a college student – how . . . nevermind. Well, Ana gets an email address; and readers, James just abuses the hell out of it. This chapter, and chapter 12, are filled with emails back and forth between Ana and Christian. It’s such an awesome plot device, that I think I’ll write some emails to E.L. James.
From: Christian Grey
To: EL James
Ms James, thank you for creating me in all my godliness, but did you have to make me such a fuckwad?
-Christian Grey, Master of the Universe
From: EL James
To: Christian Grey
Subject: You are Dreamy
Christian, I love you can I please have your babies?
E.L. “kiss kiss” James
From: Anastasia Steel
To: EL James
If I am your self-insert, then why did you make me so stupid? Are you going to kill me? Because so far my story is reading like a Lifetime movie.
Ana Bobana Steel
From: EL James
Subject: Listen to your inner goddess
I gave you three voices for advice, what more do you want?
EL “The Great” James
To: EL James
I hate you. Stop writing immediately.
As I said, there are a lot of idiotic fifth grade level emails back and forth as Ana and Christian negotiate the sex slave contract and Ana chuckles at “playful Christian”. Then, in a rare burst of intelligence that probably burns out a few synapses, she writes an email that she has seen enough and “it was nice knowing you.” And then she agonizes because he does not send an email back oh noos is he angry? Turns out, yes, cause HE SHOWS UP AT HER APARTMENT AND THIS IS NOT AT ALL INAPPROPRIATE.
Christian sexes her up and then she’s all puddy like and he leaves satisfied that he has screwed her into submission once again. Kate comes to check on her after he leaves, and Ana is in tears, because some part of her, deep down in that tiny unused part of her brain, knows that Christian is a freaked out maniac. But she ignores that part, and goes back to sending Christian email questions about the contract. He writes back in all “shouty” caps and intimidates her from a distance. She falls into a “troubled” sleep.
“He emailed me. I’m like a small, giddy child. And all the contract angst fades.” (Ch11 p155)
How is this girl not on a milk carton already?