As my fabulous vacation to the land of the Mucus Pneumonias draws to a close (it had better be drawing to a close) I return now to another bunch of crap someone spat up. No, I didn’t forget about that festering disease known as 50 Shades. It’s still there, and there’s still, dear God, five chapters left.
Chapter 18 is full of thrills. No, it’s not. It’s full of shit. Like always. What’s even worse is that her shit has nothing to do with any other shit she writes. I mean, normally you divide a story into chapters for some reason. Like, say, this is the chapter where they screw in the kitchen and the elevator and hanging from the chandelier, and this is the chapter where Ana is almost raped by Snidely Whiplash on the copier. There’s some consistency of some vague sort, somewhere, somehow. But not with E.L. James. Sure, she does try to end on a cliffhanger, if you find “will they have sex” a cliffhanger after they’ve had it roughly 5 billion times already. But otherwise, it’s a bunch of freaking pick up sticks. Why? Just why?
For instance, this chapter involves shopping for a big fancy house, and Christian telling Ana to take off her panties again, and them teasing each other with oysters again, and him fingering her in the elevator again, before finally screwing on the coffee table. Also, Ana picks out another present for Christian from the Red Room o’ Pain! This goes on for pages and pages and pages and pages. But that’s not all! No, no, no, then Jose and Kate show up from out of freaking nowhere! Of course they do! And obviously no chapter is complete without the goddamn emails.
But I was going to interview someone, so I guess I’ll go with one of the two characters she has ignored until realizing that she has taken care of any potential conflict and yet has five chapters yet to go. We’ll start with Jose.
Alice: Hello, Jose. Where have you been?
Jose: Oh, lurking. I think Ana really likes me.
Jose: Because she’s shown absolutely no interest in me so far, and is currently shacked up with this rich asshole.
Alice: Makes sense. Here’s another question. Why are you interested in her to begin with?
Jose: Because . . . um . . . she’s beguiling, and witty, and intelligent and . . .
Alice: No, she’s not.
Jose: She speaks Mandarin and plays all these musical instruments!
Alice: Not once have we seen her do any of those things.
Jose: Huh. Good point there. She’s hot.
Alice: At least we’re getting somewhere now. You do realize you were shuttled off to the Friend Zone years ago and are never, ever getting out, right?
Jose: I think there’s hope. She really responded when I tried to rape her that night we got drunk. I mean, we’re still totally tight after all that.
Alice: That’s because she’s an idiot and has no spine.
Jose: Alice, you are not very nice.
Alice: No. I’m not. Because I hate you. I hate you all. Now tell me what the hell happened this chapter? I mean, part of it was them flirting and screwing each other and house shopping, and you weren’t there for that . . . crap, were you there?
Jose: I might, might have been following them.
Alice: I . . . nevermind. So she invited you to stay at Christian’s place.
Jose: Yeah. I asked if they were serious.
Alice: They’re freaking living together, you moron.
Jose: And then I pointed out that he’s, like, too old for her.
Alice: He’s five years older and they’re both in their twenties. Big fucking deal.
Jose: Then Kate showed up with her brother Ethan, and Ethan was all hot after Ana, and that made me madfaced.
Alice: I don’t give a shit.
Jose: But then came the best part! Christian’s brother said the Charlie Tango was missing.
Alice: The what?
Jose: That’s Christian’s helicopter.
Alice: Oh, right. Ohhhh, you mean missing? So is he dead? Because I don’t want to break out the champagne for nothing.
Jose: We don’t know. That’s how the chapter ends. I’m kind of hoping it went down in flames and just exploded all over the place, sending pieces of Christian everywhere.
Alice: We can dream, Jose. We can dream.*
*I know there’s no way he could be dead, because we have four more chapters and, sweet white baby Jesus, another book to go. But allow me my little moment of happy thoughts.