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Jenny Reads 50 Shades of Midnight Sun: Grey, Thursday May 19, 2011: “Misogylicious!”

I had a link to share, but then at the last minute I decided against it because I realized that the author was accusing detractors of jealousy while simultaneously suggesting that it’s not fair for E.L. James to be popular. Which was…confusing.

But here is a Buzzfeed quiz that is just as good! They ask you to pick out which lines are from 50 Shades and which are from Twilight. Since I know both franchises pretty well, I thought it would be a piece of cake. I totally failed it.

SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION TIME! I know that some of you awesome readers come to the blog just for the Fifty recaps, and that’s totally cool. But you may not realize that I’m a romance writer, and I have some books coming out on August 4th. You can find out what they’re all about (and find pre-order links) here. I mention it because lately I’ve been getting some flack from idiots for “copying” and “using” E.L. James to make money, so fuck it. If I’m going to be accused of that anyway, then why not do it? CHECK OUT MY BOOKS, THEY’RE AWESOME.

Anyway, we’re back, and ready for another heaping helping of misogyny, courtesy of our beloved Chedward. This chapter doesn’t synch up to Ana’s chapters, so I’ve left out the link to the corresponding recap.

This Day In History:  US journalist Katie Couric signs off as the host of the CBS Evening News.

My scream bounces off the bedroom walls and wakes me from my nightmare. I’m smothered in sweat, with the stench of stale beer, cigarettes, and poverty in my nostrils and a lingering dread of drunken violence.

So, I have this friend. She went on a trip to…I think it was Costa Rica? Anyway, she was on this bus tour with a bunch of upper-middle class white people of retirement age, and she was listening to a bunch of the stupid comments they were making as the bus was going through a poor neighborhood, and she goes, “Look darling, PAAAHverty,” like the stereotypical big-chin country club guy, right? Okay, so, that? That big chinned WASP at the country club pronunciation, “PAAAHverty,” is how I imagine E.L. James hears it in her head.

Maybe it’s because I’ve spent a lot of my life in poverty, but I’m a little touchy. I don’t remember smelling like poverty. I don’t remember it having a smell, but apparently rich assholes can smell us the way the Cullens can smell Jacob and Sam, etc.

BOOM SUCK IT I GOT ANOTHER TWILIGHT JAB IN.

Chedward mentions that he’s been having nightmares every night for the last four nights, and it’s 3:30 in the morning. He thinks about how great it would be to get a full night’s sleep, but he’s a busy man:

And I have a round of fucking golf with Bastille. I should cancel the golf; the thought of playing and losing darkens my already bleak mood.

I bet when Edward loses, he starts stomping around the golf course, screaming about how great he is, and how everyone will pay.

Actual footage of that happening.

Okay, here’s a thing. And I’m not saying that everyone who has ever had tragedy in their life has to be cheerful forever. But Christian Grey has this huge chip on his shoulder because his mom was addicted to crack, but then he got adopted by rich people, got every opportunity in the world, is the richest man on the planet and possibly in the solar system, and he still has this enormous attitude problem. Again, not saying that just having good shit happen to you after tragedy means you’re beholden to anyone to be a good person. But it would have been so easy to write him that way.

There are seeds of it. We see Christian go, “Yeah, I’m developing this technology to feed people, because I went hungry,” but in his every day life, he’s like, Oh shit, I can’t bear to lose a round of golf to someone, when really he should be like, That’s okay if he wins, I’m a multi-billionaire, it’s not like I have to have everything. He does have to have everything, and everything isn’t enough.

Now imagine if Christian Grey came up from tragedy. He meets Ana and he recognizes not the perceived weaknesses in her that will make her easier to exploit, but kindness and a naïveté that appeal to him because she reminds him that there’s good in the world. And she’s drawn to him because he’s made his life beautiful out of that tragedy of his childhood. And he’s not fucked up, he just thinks he’s fucked up, and he begins to realize, because he loves Ana and holds her in mutual esteem, that he can’t possibly be that worthless if someone as good and kind as her could love him.

I honestly think that’s the book E.L. James thought she was writing, and the book fans believe they read. But it’s not there in the text at all. What we get is a spoiled brat who can’t stand to lose a round of golf and who sees the heroine only for her potential as his sex toy, and a heroine who is too meek and self-loathing to resist him.

You turned her down.

She wanted you.

And you turned her down.

It was for her own good.

Underlines, as always, indicate italics in the text.

To me, the last chapter didn’t give me any strong indication that Ana wanted him. She asked him if he had a girlfriend, after he gave her the third degree on a coffee date he invited her on. But in Chedward land, him wanting something = everyone wanting something.

Perhaps I need a distraction; a new sub, maybe. It’s been too long since Susannah. I contemplate calling Elena in the morning. She always finds suitable candidates for me.

Well, except for that one that breaks into your house and holds you girlfriend at gun point later. But how creepy is it that he has the woman who raped him find his subs for him? (Before anyone gets into the “it’s not rape just because he was a teenager,” etc., if an adult approaches a teenager who has known emotional problems and exploits those emotional problems to coerce the teenager into a sexual relationship they aren’t ready for, i.e., a D/s relationship before that teenager even loses their virginity, then guess what, it’s rape.)

Christian thinks about how he doesn’t want anyone but Ana, and how maybe he might have given her the impression that he liked her with the whole inviting her out for coffee thing. Maybe going to her work with a flimsy excuse to be there might have done that too, genius. He’s going to try to think of a way to apologize to her.

His alarm goes off after a section break, and he still hasn’t slept. There’s a story on the radio about the sale of a rare Jane Austen manuscript, and of course it reminds him of Ana.

She’s an incurable romantic who loves the English classics.

Again, I don’t remember Ana describing herself as an incurable romantic, at all. I remember her talking about how her mother had been married four times (and in Fifty Shades of Grey it was made very clear how Ana felt about that), and that she liked books. This is some messed up “sins of the mother” type shit if he feels she’s responsible for all of her mother’s marriages.

But then so do I, but for different reasons. I don’t have any Jane Austen first edition, or Brontës, for that matter…but I do have two Thomas Hardys.

It’s okay for him to love the English classics. For reasons. But when Ana loves them, it’s obviously because she’s a girl and obsessed with romance.

Christian realizes that he knows exactly how to apologize to Ana: with books.

Moments later I’m in my library with Jude the Obscure and a boxed set of Tess of the d’Urbervilles in its three volumes laid out on the billiard table in front of me. Both are bleak books, with tragic themes. Hardy had a dark, twisted soul.

Like me.

I’m just going to use this .gif over and over again.

Even though Jude is in better condition, it’s no contest. In Jude there is no redemption, so I’ll send her Tess, with a suitable quote. I know it’s not the most romantic book, considering the evils that befall the heroine, but she has a brief taste of romantic love in the bucolic idyll that is the English countryside.

And that’s all that Ana, a woman, would be interested in. The romantic parts.

I also like how he thinks it’s “not the most romantic book,” because it makes me think that E.L. James saw the criticism people were lobbing at the book and the fact that it was described as romantic in Fifty Shades of Grey. Which means that what she’s saying here is that Chedward is smarter about literature than Ana, who majored in it. It’s like this home run of author defensiveness (“See! I knew it wasn’t romantic! I’m still brilliant!”), glorification of the hero, and derision toward the heroine.

Ana mentioned Hardy as a favorite and I’m sure she’s never seen, let alone owned, a first edition.

Classist much? You have no idea if she’s ever seen a first edition. Some college libraries have rare book collections students can access. Maybe one of her professors knew she liked Hardy and happened to own a first edition and let her take a look. You don’t know her life story.

PAAAHverty.

After a section break, Christian is in the back of his car, looking through the book for a quote he wants to share with Ana. He thinks about how fiction was an escape for him when he was younger, but his brother didn’t read much, because he didn’t need an escape. Because the only way we can experience Christian Grey is through comparison to other characters. He can’t just be tortured, he has to be more tortured than anyone else. He can’t be smart, he has to be smarter than everyone else.

Taylor drops him off and Chedward goes into Grey House, where he works.

The young receptionist greets me with a flirtatious wave.

Every day…Like a cheesy tune on repeat.

Ignoring her, I make my way to the elevator that will take me straight to my floor.

Contrast this to how he responds to the male security guard:

“Good morning, Mr. Grey,” Barry on security greets me as he presses the button to summon the elevator.

“How’s your son, Barry?”

“Better, sir.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Is that all, Chedward? Are you sure Barry the security guard doesn’t want to fuck you? ARE YOU SURE? Because apparently everyone on the planet wants to fuck you.

Let’s just see how he treats some of his female employees, shall we?

Andrea is on hand to greet me.

“Good morning, Mr. Grey. Ros wants to see you to discuss the Darfur project. Barney would like a few minutes–

I hold up my hand to silence her.

And:

But looking around I notice that Olivia is absent. It’s a relief. The girl is always mooning over me and it’s fucking irritating.

Can the misogyny in this be any more fucking blatant? Wait, yes it can. He wanted Olivia to make him a double espresso, but since she’s not there, Andrea is going to do it:

“Would you like milk, sir?” Andrea asks.

Good girl. I give her a smile.

“Not today.” I do like to keep them guessing how I take my coffee.

AAAAARGH! “Good girl”? Is she your fucking dog? IS SHE?

This guy. This fucking guy.

And it’s not keeping someone guessing if they ask you how you want your coffee, it’s just what happens when someone asks for coffee. Especially if that someone is a tantrum prone boss with exacting standards. You’re going to fucking ask.

And seriously? “Would you like milk?” Well, did he ask for a macchiato? A cappuccino? a latte? Because when you put milk into espresso, depending on the amount, it becomes any of those things. I love it when these books get something pretentious wrong. It’s like a gift from the heavens.

Christian makes a call to Welch and asks him to find out when Ana’s last final exam is going to be. I’m surprised he doesn’t ask when her last bowel movement was, too. Then he agonizes over the fact that he needs to find a quote from the book to present to Ana.

After a section break, Christian is meeting with Ros, his COO, about making vague shipments of something to Darfur. They talk about bribing a senator, and then:

“So the next topic is where to site the new plant. You know the tax breaks in Detroit are huge. I sent you a summary.”

“I know. But God, does it have to be Detroit?”

“I don’t know what you have against the place. It meets our criteria.”

“Okay, get Bill to check out potential brownfield sites. And let’s do one more site search to see if any other municipality would offer more favorable terms.”

Let me get this straight. The guy who was born into poverty in Detroit, who has dedicated his life to feeding the hungry in the third world or whatever (I still have no idea what the fuck his company does besides ship things to Africa and do something with solar powered cell phone technology, and that’s after reading the entire first series), who is supposed to be this big time philanthropist and humanitarian, is resistant to bringing money into the very city in which he was born? He doesn’t want to do anything to stop other children from being born into his situation by improving the local economy? He doesn’t want to take huge tax breaks and encourage the return of industry into the failing city that shaped his early life? It’s not like he would have to go work there. He doesn’t go to work in Darfur every morning, after all.

Ugh. Being a Michigan resident, this makes me hate Christian Grey even more.

Welch calls back and tells him that Ana’s next final exam is tomorrow. And after a section break, MORE MISOGYNY!

At 12:30 Olivia shuffles into my office with lunch. She’s a tall, willowy girl with a pretty face. Sadly, it’s always misdirected at me with longing. She’s carrying a tray with what I hope is something edible. after a busy morning, I’m starving. She trembles as she puts it on my desk.

Tuna salad. Okay. She hasn’t fucked this up for once.

If Olivia is such a bothersome fuck up, FIRE HER. Just fire her. If you’ve got such exacting standards and she’s not meeting them, then get rid of her.

Of course, if Christian Grey fired everyone who mooned over him, he wouldn’t have any employees. Except for Barry the security guard, the only person alive who doesn’t want to fuck Christian Grey.

“Nothing homoerotic is going to happen on my watch, sir.”

Chedward has found the perfect quote for his card to Ana:

I’ve chosen a quote. A warning. I made the correct choice, walking away from her. Not all men are romantic heroes.

I’ll take the word “men-folk” out. She’ll understand.

There are actually versions of Tess where the word “men-folk” is left out, but this is a first edition, so it would be in there. Good job, E.L., though this was probably in response to people who mentioned the “wrong” quote.

Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me? Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks…

This is rich, coming from Cheward in this book. He’s been so dismissive of Ana’s love of reading and books so far, but he picks a quote from Hardy that suggests that women should read, to protect them from the dangers of the world. This didn’t stand out in Fifty Shades of Grey, because we don’t see how utterly dickish Chedward is about Ana’s love of reading in that book.

Christian tells Andrea to make sure the books get sent to Ana, then tells her to get him another set of the first edition. Except he tells her to have Olivia do it. Isn’t Olivia a huge fuck up?

Dismissing the thought, I wonder if that will be the last I see of the books, and I have to acknowledge that deep down I hope not.

It’s not really the books he wants to see again. It’s Ana. Did you get that? It’s subtle.

This was a short chapter this time around. Stick around for an Apolonia recap, hopefully next week.

DOUBLE STEVE BONUS MONDAY

The Big Damn Buffy Rewatch S02E18, “Killed By Death”

In every generation there is a chosen one. She alone wants to track down whoever is responsible for programming Microsoft Word and slash their tires. She will also recap every episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer with an eye to the following themes:

Sex is the real villain of the Buffy The Vampire Slayer universe.
Giles is totally in love with Buffy.
Joyce is a fucking terrible parent.
Willow’s magic is utterly useless (this one won’t be an issue until season 2, when she gets a chance to become a witch)
Xander is a textbook Nice Guy.
The show isn’t as feminist as people claim.
All the monsters look like wieners.
If ambivalence to possible danger were an Olympic sport, Team Sunnydale would take the gold.
Angel is a dick.
Harmony is the strongest female character on the show.
Team sports are portrayed in an extremely negative light.
Some of this shit is racist as fuck.
Science and technology are not to be trusted.
Mental illness is stigmatized.
Only Willow can use a computer.
Buffy’s strength is flexible at the plot’s convenience.
Cheap laughs and desperate grabs at plot plausibility are made through Xenophobia.
Oz is the Anti-Xander
Spike is capable of love despite his lack of soul
Don’t freaking tell me the vampires don’t need to breathe because they’re constantly out of frickin’ breath.
The foreshadowing on this show is freaking amazing.
Smoking is evil.
Despite praise for its positive portrayal of non-straight sexualities, some of this shit is homophobic as fuck.
How do these kids know all these outdated references, anyway?
Technology is used inconsistently as per its convenience in the script.

Have I missed any that were added in past recaps? Let me know in the comments.  Even though I might forget that you mentioned it.

WARNING: Some people have mentioned they’re watching along with me, and that’s awesome, but I’ve seen the entire series already and I’ll probably mention things that happen in later seasons. So… you know, take that under consideration, if you’re a person who can’t enjoy something if you know future details about it. 

CONTENT WARNING: CHILD DEATH

The episode opens with Buffy climbing over a stone wall, into the cemetery. She’s sniffling and coughing, but somehow manages to sneak up on something at the old Alpert crypt. She leaps around the corner and:

Willow, Xander, and Cordelia want to know why Buffy is out patrolling when she’s so sick:

Cordelia: “Half the school is out with this flu. It’s a serious deal, Buffy. We’re all concerned about how gross you look.”

But Buffy is afraid that if she takes a sick day, more people are going to get killed, and probably by Angel. And she’s not going to let that happen.

But that’s the exact minute Angel does show up, and Buffy can barely fight him. He’s beating the crap out of her, and nearly kills her, when the Scoobies jump in and flash crosses at him. Angel retreats, and Buffy collapses.

After the opening credits, they rush Buffy into the ER, where she’s whisked away with a lot of medical jargon. When Joyce arrives, Giles tells her that Buffy is still in the emergency room. I’m giving her a pass on wondering what the hell her kid’s librarian is doing at the hospital with her in the middle of the night, since Joyce is worried that her daughter might be dying. The doctor comes out and tells Joyce that Buffy will be fine, but she needs to stay in the hospital for a few days. But when they try to wheel Buffy to a patient room, she flips out, fighting and begging Giles to tell them that she has to go home and fight the vampires.

The Scoobies make excuses for the vampire talk by saying Buffy has a high fever, etc. Which is again, another time I’ll give anyone a pass on #8. People say loopy things when they have high fevers. For example, I once had an incredibly high fever from the flu and saw my coat hanging over a chair, and I was convinced it was Spike’s coat that he’d left behind in our house somehow. Spike. From this show. So people get real wacky from fevers.

Xander mentions that he’s not used to seeing Buffy so scared, and Joyce drives the Naked Exposition Train right into Convenientown Junction:

Joyce: “She just hates hospitals. Ever since she was a little girl.”

Willow: “What happened?”

Joyce: “When she was eight, her cousin Celia died in a hospital. Buffy was alone with her at the time.”

This is something that happens on pretty much every television show at least once. Someone says they hate hospitals, and it’s always because they had a relative die in one. I feel like hating hospitals is pretty much a universal experience, right? Nobody likes to be in the hospital. I get that for the purposes of this specific episode, Buffy has to have some experience with child death, but this could have been set up a bit more artfully than just, “Oh yeah, she hates hospitals because of this childhood trauma I’ll just tell you all about like it’s no big, even though I myself would have also been affected by my niece dying, possibly with some added burden of survivor’s guilt by proxy because my child lived and my sibling or sibling-in-law’s didn’t.” But more on this clumsy bit of structure later.

Joyce says she’s going to go call Buffy’s father, and Giles tells her he knows where the payphone is. As they walk, Joyce thanks him for looking out for Buffy, and goes on to say that she’s sorry about Ms. Calendar. So, here’s where my patience stops and #8 comes in. Joyce is not only fully aware that Giles hangs out with her daughter and her daughter’s friends on the regular, but that these kids know enough about this grown man’s love life that she’s aware these two teachers were dating. And this doesn’t ring any alarm bells?

I kind of wonder if the reason they wrote Joyce as admiring what should be creepy behavior on Giles’s part is because they were trying to leave some suggestion of a romance between them open later in the series. In “Band Candy” we know they hook up, but nothing ever comes of it. Whatever the reason, the way it’s written in the first two seasons, before Joyce knows Buffy is a Slayer, makes Joyce seem like the most oblivious parent alive.

Willow, Xander, and Cordelia are worried about Angel coming to the hospital to attack Buffy. Well, Cordelia is more worried about Buffy getting botched plastic surgery for a thing on her face that only Cordelia can see. But both are probably valid concerns, right? Even if we don’t notice the thing Cordelia is talking about.

In the middle of the night, Buffy wakes to find a little kid standing outside her door. He’s like, a little Omen-looking kid, but if you think he’s creepy, the guy who comes along next is so much worse:

This hospital needs a more selective candy striping program.

Because Buffy is the Slayer, she has to get up and follow the monster. It’s what she does. Mysteriously, there is a bag with an IV drip beside her bed, but when Buffy stands, she doesn’t have an IV. There’s a janitor in the hallway who sees a patient shambling feverishly and does nothing (a big no-no in every medical facility I’ve worked in), and BAM, Buffy wanders into a flashback.

Is this a flashback from someone else’s life? Because they couldn’t have gotten a kid who looks less like she could grow up to be Sarah Michelle Gellar if they tried.

Anyway, the whole “seeing the creepy dude and getting out of bed thing” was just a dream. Buffy wakes up,  and this time she actually does have an IV, which she pulls out because, you know, what ever, who needs fluids when they’re hospitalized for the flu? This time when she shambles feverishly from her room, past the janitor who does nothing, there’s this dude lurking creepily:

And he’s a security guard, so that puts me right at ease.

As Buffy makes her way through the hospital, visibly confused and sweaty, dressed in a hospital gown and a robe, she passes two orderlies pushing a covered body on a gurney. One of them remarks that they hate to lose the young ones. Okay, but there’s a teenage girl who is clearly a patient wandering the halls in the middle of the night. Maybe you want to stop and do something about that?

This hospital is another place where Sunnydale is racking up points in the #8 column like whoa.

Buffy stumbles upon a hushed conversation between two doctors, who are arguing over whether or not a treatment they’re using is safe or effective. When Buffy turns around, two little kids (one of them the boy she’d seen in the hallway) are waiting for her. The little boy says:

Little Boy: “He comes at night. The grownups don’t see him. He was with Tina. He’ll come back for us.”

Buffy asks the boy who he’s talking about, and he tells her it’s death.

Cut to the waiting room, where Xander is sitting, probably on guard in case Angel comes, because that’s exactly what happens. Angel saunters in with a bouquet of roses, and Xander gets in his face and tells him visiting hours are over:

Xander: “Why don’t you come back during the day. Oh, gee, no. I guess you can’t.”

Angel asks if Xander thinks he can stop him, and Xander is pretty realistic about it. But he points out that cops, security guards, and orderlies are all around and would probably notice some shit like a vampire tearing a person to pieces. Angel decides to go another route, taunting Xander about the fact that he still loves Buffy, but Angel got in her pants. Xander doesn’t take the bait, and Angel leaves.

This is a scene where I really love Xander. He knows full well that Angel could kill him, even with all of these people around, but he protects Buffy anyway. And that’s not because he’s trying to prove himself to her. None of the other Scoobies are there to see the confrontation, so there’s no one to tally the points. His only interest is in protecting Buffy the way she has protected him over and over again, and that interest is totally selfless. Congrats on the character growth, Xander.

In another flashback, Buffy is playing superhero with her cousin. That’s a nice touch, that Buffy played at being a superhero before she was one. It’s a scene that’s meant to show us that she was close to her cousin, but it does double duty here. While the writers could have easily reinforced Buffy’s desire for a “normal” life by showing her playing house or something, they show us that deep down, Buffy has always had this heroic instinct.

I bet if Buffy hadn’t been a Slayer, she would have grown up to be a firefighter. Can you imagine present-day Sarah Michelle Gellar all muscular and wearing fire fighter gear? Like, maybe just the pants, not the jacket. But with the suspenders. And a really tight tank top. And she’s sweaty and dirty because she’s just been saving lives, and it’s really hot and she’s pouring a bottle of water over her head.

That’s just something I think about sometimes.

Anyway, the flashback cuts to her seeing her cousin Celia lying in a hospital bed, then Buffy wakes up, and she’s wearing like, all the jewelry in the world:

Even though you can’t see it in this shot, she’s also got on a necklace and earrings. Maybe all hospitals have different policies, but the one I worked at (and was once hospitalized in) would have taken her jewelry and sent it home with Joyce. Why? Because people accuse nurses of stealing shit literally all the time, and it makes everyone’s life easier if that stuff goes home.

One of the doctors from the argument the night before, the one who was stridently anti-nefarious-treatment, is there to check on Buffy. She’s amazed to find that all of the injuries Buffy sustained while fighting Angel are healed. Buffy can’t go home yet, because the virus she has is a bad one. She asks the doctor if it’s the same thing all the children have, but she doesn’t answer, and that’s when the Scoobies show up anyway.

Okay, I’m dying to know if a certain bit of dialogued here is ad-libbed. Xander comes in carrying balloons, and this happens:

Xander: “Flowers for milady.”

Buffy: “I think they call those balloons.”

Xander: “Yeah, stick them in water, maybe they’ll grow.”

The reason I wonder if it’s ad-libbed is because after he says it, there’s a weird pause where no one says anything before Buffy points out that they’re balloons.

Also, I would be wholly remiss if I didn’t point out that Xander is a “Milady” guy. #5 just got to a whole new level.

Willow brought Buffy some homework, but Buffy isn’t as excited about it as Willow is. Buffy wanted chocolate. Then Willow mentions casually that she’s already done all the homework. Willow is a good friend. Giles brought grapes. Cordelia brought nothing, but here’s the thing: she’s actually angry that she showed up without a gift while everyone else brought something. That means that Cordelia actually cares about Buffy’s feelings and is upset when it seems as though she cares less than the others. Cordelia is also growing!

Everybody goes for a walk, where Buffy fills them in on what happened the night before. She tells them everything, from the sick kids being experimented on to the scary hallway corpse man, and the whole thing about the kids seeing Death. And Cordelia proves super insightful, out of the blue:

Cordelia: “So this isn’t about you being afraid of hospitals ’cause your friend died and you want to conjure up a monster that you can fight so you can save everybody and not feel so helpless?”

Giles: “Cordelia, have you actually ever heard of tact?”

Cordelia: “Tact is just not saying true stuff. I’ll pass.”

Nothing Cordelia is saying here is wrong. Even though we know that since it’s a monster show, Buffy is totally not making it up, Cordy delivers that very possible scenario like a pro. And don’t we all wish we could be like her, just saying everything that came to mind, just because?

Buffy wants to check it out more, but since she’s still sick, she can’t really make with the Mystery Machine. Instead, Xander and Cordelia have to sneak through the hospital’s records and find out what the little girl died from the night before. They go to a room full of cabinets with manilla folders in them. They start poking around and are promptly caught by a guard.

You know what would have probably worked better? If they’d sent Willow in to hack the hospital’s computers. This is a really interesting part, and let me tell you why. You may or may not recall that there was this really odd period of time in the late 90′s, early 00′s where a lot of stuff was becoming the domain of the computer, but other things still hadn’t quite caught up. Fiction is one of these places. See, take Sunnydale High’s library, for instance. It still has a card catalogue. But at the time, a lot of high schools had their catalogs on local computer data bases. The computer is only used at times when it’s convenient to the plot; they need Xander and Cordelia to be caught by a security guard so that they can have a big, jealous confrontation later, so no one thinks to even check the hospital’s computer system (which I guarantee they have in 1997). The same stuff goes down in season five, after Willow digitizes all of Giles’s Watcher books. They never look anything up on the computer after that happens, and the entire “scanned books” thing never really comes up ever again. They all need something to do in the Eureka! expositions scenes, and a nice round table full of books is way more interesting than Willow sitting at a computer and reading things off. So, welcome to #25: Technology is used inconsistently as per its convenience in the script.

Back at the library, Giles isn’t that excited about the idea of researching the whole “kids seeing death” thing. He thinks Cordelia has a point; with Jenny’s recent death, Buffy might be looking for a way to defeat the very concept of mortality. Willow points out that they still live on the Hellmouth, and therefore they should look into all the possibilities. They try to remember if they’ve ever heard of a monster that only children can see. Giles suggests that maybe what’s happening is that the children are seeing an adult’s true self. You know, just like the episode with the little league kid in season one.

It’s weird how they forgot about that.

Willow and Giles decide to look up doctor Backer, the dude behind the experimental treatments.

Back at the hospital, Cordelia is flirting with the security guard in order to distract him while Xander sneaks out. And while she is, admittedly, all the fuck over this dude, calling him sexy and brave and shit, she’s doing it so Xander can sneak out. When she meets up with him later, he’s pretty friggin’ ungrateful, considering that his girlfriend just had to invite unwanted advances and shit to save his ass. She asks him if he’s jealous, and he denies it. He tells her to take the file they stole to Giles, and she asks why Xander isn’t coming:

Cordelia: “Oh right, your obsession with protecting Buffy. Have I told you how attractive that’s not?”

Xander: “Cordelia, someone’s got to watch her back.”

Cordelia: “Yeah, well I’ve seen you watch her back.”

Xander: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Cordelia: “Well, I was using the phrase ‘watch her back’ as a euphemism for looking at her butt. You know, sort of a pun.”

In this scene, Cordelia is both clearly pleased that she’s made Xander jealous, and still unhappy that her boyfriend is in love with someone else. Charisma Carpenter is underrated as an actress. This scene is flawless, and it’s not the writing. I mean, as far as dialogue and story goes, this is probably the weakest episode of the season. But she manages to say so much about her character in the few lines she has in this scene that it’s god damn breathtaking.

Like, imagine if she were wearing the fire fighter outfit, okay? And like, maybe she and SMG fire fighter are stripping off their gear back at the fire house. Maybe somebody gets pushed up against the truck, you know? Or accidentally gets their hands tied above their heads to the pole. And CC fire fighter has a really butch haircut, like maybe half her head buzzed or something.

Look, if this episode were more interesting, I wouldn’t have to be writing hardcore girl-on-girl fire fighter erotica in my head, okay?

Later that night, Buffy is free roaming the hospital without any questions asked of her (Sunnydale General, what the fuck?) where she finds the little boy who said the creepy death thing. He’s doing some late night coloring, and he’s drawing a picture of the exact scary guy Buffy saw in her dream. She promises the kid that she’ll protect all of them, because she fights monsters. And then the kid goes:

Little Boy: “You can’t fight Death.”

That’s a fucking solid line to have a kid deliver.

Back at the library, Willow is all sorts of hacked into the hospital’s personnel files. Hey! The hospital has computer files. Which means the scene that we just saw with Cordelia and Xander was completely manufactured just to fill time and give them something to do! In reality, the conversation should have gone something like this: “We can sneak into the records and steal the file!” “No, that’s a bad idea, why don’t we just have Willow hack it?” “Hey, that’s much better, this way no one will get caught.” SCENE. So, like I said before: #25.

Doctor Backer has some dubious charges on his file:

 

If you can’t read the stuff on that screen, this is what’s in his file:

Reprimands for controversial experiments
Censure for risky procedures
Court actions: malpractice suit
Abuse of laboratory services
Improper use of NIH funds
State board ethics violations: cloning
DEA investigations schedule IV drug abuses.

My first reaction to this list was “Wow, all that and only one malpractice suit?” my second was, “How the fuck is this guy still employed? How has he not lost his license.” Seriously, I realize they had to make him look like a bad guy, but this dick is a super villain. And it’s beyond unrealistic; a doctor at a small local hospital is somehow going to have access to cloning experiments?

The class IV drug abuses? That’s a pretty legit charge. Those are less seriously addictive than stuff like Oxy or Vicodin, but it’s stuff that still gets abused. Xanax, for example, Versed, Valium, a lot of benzos are classed IV, and a lot of people abuse those.

Anyway, this dude should not still be employed. #8, Sunnydale. Get your shit together.

Dr. Backer is in his office, reading something that was clearly printed on a dot matrix printer. Man, those were something. He’s really intense about his work, muttering to himself and all.

Xander is still at the hospital waiting, and Cordelia returns with donuts and coffee for him, but she doesn’t say anything. And he doesn’t even thank her for the donuts, because apparently Krispy Kreme doesn’t fix emotional wounds in the Buffyverse.

That’s possibly the most unrealistic thing on the show. Even beyond the vampires.

Buffy, again, still just roaming around the hospital with her deadly illness, follows Dr. Backer into the pediatric ward, where he injects something into a kid’s IV. He hears an ominous giggle, then he’s attacked by something he can’t see:

As the little boy from before (does he have a name? I’ve never caught his name watching this) watches, the invisible thing shreds Dr. Backer and throws him into the hallway. Invisible thing shoves Buffy into a wall and drags Dr. Backer’s lifeless, bloodied corpse down the hallway and into a commercial break.

The next morning, the Scoobies come back. Giles tells Buffy that Tina, the dead girl, died from her fever, but only after showing improvement. They also tell Buffy about Dr. Backer’s dubious professional record:

Buffy: “It wasn’t Backer. He was clean.”

Cordelia: “What do you mean ‘clean’?”

Xander: “What do you mean ‘was’?”

Buffy tells them what happened, and shows them the drawing the little boy made:

and then Giles asks:

Giles: “This is your work?”

Buffy: “No. One of the kids.”

I love how disgusted Buffy looks at the idea that she only draws as good as a child. What’s even funnier is that Giles sounds impressed by the drawing. In season four and season seven we see how shabby Giles’s art skills are, so he might have actually been thinking, “Wow, this is a really good crayon drawing of a monster. Way to go, Buffy.”

PS. this is what I would call character continuity.

Giles wonders why only the children can see the monster, but Cordelia points out that Buffy saw it. Buffy says she was delirious from her fever, and they’re almost there with the conclusion they’ll inevitably come to, but Joyce arrives, stopping all the action.

Joyce: “Ooh, looks like I interrupted a secret meeting.”

Cordelia: “You sure didn’t!”

Joyce tells Buffy that the doctor is going to discharge her, but Buffy has to stay because, you know. Child murdering monster. They all convince Joyce that Buffy isn’t well enough to go home, and after Joyce leaves, they go back into planning mode. Giles is going to try to find the monster in his books, using the drawing as a guide. Buffy is going to sneak around Dr. Backer’s office, because why not, nobody notices patients doing anything they’re not supposed to in this hospital, anyway. She mentions that she won’t know what she’s looking for, and asks Willow for help:

Buffy: “Course if I find anything I won’t know what it means so…Will?”

Willow: “Oh yeah, I’m good at medical stuff. Xander and I used to play doctor all the time.”

I don’t know how international the phrase “play doctor” is, so just to briefly explain, it’s a euphemism for mild sexual exploration in young children of the same age group. Or that’s what we say it is, but I guess I was out of the loop, because when I played doctor with kids my age, we always did surgery. Vague, nebulous sort of surgeries where we would lay on the ground and pull up our shirts and stick out our tummies while someone else pretended to cut us open. I don’t remember any touchy naughty stuff going on.

Anyway, that was apparently Willow and Xander’s experience, too. Xander explains that their version of doctor involved Willow diagnosing him with random diseases. Which, okay. Hang on. We know that Willow is smart. We know that she’s good with computers and school. But how is she “good at medical stuff?” It’s not like medicine is something you just pick up by being smart.

Once again, Xander and is going to stay at the hospital to watch out for Angel, and he tells Cordelia to go with Giles to the library. Giles whines about having to take Cordelia with him, right in front of her, which isn’t very nice, Giles. You’re better than this.

Later that night, the little boy is trying to sneak out of his room, but hides when a security guard comes. Meanwhile, Buffy and Willow are breaking into Doctor Backer’s office. They find his research on the kids, and he wasn’t doing anything sinister. He was just trying to raise the children’s temperatures to burn the sickness out of them. Whatever the monster is, it stopped him from doing that.

Back at the library, Cordelia is annoying the everliving fuck out of Giles as they look through a bunch of books:

Cordelia: “Ew. What does this do?”

Giles: “What?”

Cordelia: “What does this do?”

Giles: “Uh..it uh, extracts vital organs to replenish its own mutating cells.”

Cordelia: “Wow. What does this one do?”

Giles: “Um, it elongates its mouth to, uh, engulf its victims head with its incisors.”

Cordelia: “Ouch. Wait, what does this one do?”

Giles: “It asks endless questions of those with whom it’s supposed to be working so that nothing is getting done.”

Cordelia: “Boy, there’s a demon for everything.”

I like this scene, not just because it’s always fun to see Giles get so frustrated with the teens that he’s on the verge of losing his damn mind, but because it shows us that Cordelia is starting to become more fully integrated into the group. In the past, she’s said she doesn’t want anything to do with all the monster nonsense, but here she’s curious and eager to learn. Maybe if there wasn’t a time limit having to do with dead kids hanging over their heads, Giles wouldn’t be so frustrated about it, but I’m glad that he is, because he plays with his hair and I’m a big fan of that.

Giles says that their research could be hopeless, since only a few people know what the monster looks like. Disheartened, Cordelia closes the book she’s been reading and boom:

 

Cordelia calls Buffy and tells her that the monster is der Kindestod, or “child death.” But Buffy doesn’t want to talk to Cordelia, she wants to talk to Giles. Cordelia asserts that she found the monster, and she knows the details. Cordy is getting treated pretty badly by this episode. First, she has to flirt with a gross security guard to save Xander’s bacon, then he treats her like shit for doing that. Then Giles is like, why do I have to take Cordelia with me, and now Buffy is like, hey, you’re too dumb to regurgitate what you just read in that book.

I’m glad she’s sticking up for herself.

Cordelia explains to Buffy that der Kindestod sucks the life out of the children and makes it look like they were sick all along. Der Kindestod killed Dr. Backer because he was interrupting the food source. When Giles shows Cordelia a picture of what it looks like when the monster feeds, she freaks out and wants to know why they “drag” her into their monster fighting. But we already know from the previous scene that deep down, she secretly likes it.

Der Kindestod sits on its victim and immobilizes them. Giles editorializes that it’s pretty terrifying, which, thanks, Giles. We all need to imagine little sick kids dying in terror. Buffy didn’t really need to imagine it, either, because she has experience with the monster, herself. She flashes back to the day her cousin Celia died:

 

So, Buffy knows exactly what’s up with der Kindestod.

Buffy realizes that the only way she can see the monster is by having a high fever. She and Willow sneak into Dr. Backer’s office again. They find the virus just sitting in there in a refrigerator. Like, literally, a refrigerator. There’s a bottled water in there. Buffy’s about to chug a vial of sickness, when Willow stops her and says its 100% pure and will kill her instantly. How did Willow know this, and why would a 100% potent and alive disease be stored in a refrigerator in someone’s apparently easy-to-break-into office? What is this nonsense?

Willow says she needs to dilute the disease, so she grabs the bottled water and puts a few drops of the virus into it. Are you serious with this?

Buffy immediately develops the sickness and can suddenly see der Kindestod, but the kids are missing. They’re running through some kind of utility corridor, because the unlocked door to the hospital basement is in the pediatric ward.

This episode is high in the running for “stupidest Buffy episode ever”. Maybe when I reach the end of these recaps in ten years, I’ll do a definitive ranking of the worst ones. This will be near the top.

For the first time since Buffy has been admitted to the hospital, someone notices that she’s roaming the halls. This time, it’s her doctor, who tries to get her back to bed. But Buffy shoves her aside and makes a run for it, while the doctor calls for security. When the security guards come, Willow pretends to be hallucinating, screaming about frogs all over her. This gives Buffy a chance to run away and find Xander in the waiting room. She tells him they need to get to the basement.

Cut to the basement. The kids are sneaking around, trying to hide from the monster, but he finds them and HOLY FUCKING CHRIST WHY WOULD ANYONE THINK THIS THING UP?!

Buffy rushes in and saves the kid, and proves she’s not too ill to pun:

Buffy: “You make me sick.”

Get it? Because hospital.

Xander gets the kids to safety while Buffy fights the monster. But how are you actually going to kill death? Xander just sees Buffy fighting nothing, but nothing throws her down and tries to pull his weird eye sucker thing on her, but she snaps his neck and he’s dead.

That’s it. That’s all Buffy has to do to kill this big bad monster that eats children and nobody can see. She just has to break his neck after a very short fight scene.

The next scene opens with Joyce bringing Buffy a sandwich and some juice. Then the shot pans out to reveal Xander laying next to her on the bed, and Willow sitting beside it.

Let me talk a minute about the whole “platonic friends can lay around in bed together” thing. Platonic friends? Can absolutely lay around in bed together. But Xander is doing this even though he A) has feelings that aren’t platonic for Buffy, and B) knows that his absent girlfriend would be extremely uncomfortable with him doing so. #5, Xander. If the grass is greener across the fence from Cordelia, it’s time to break up with her, rather than waiting for something better to come along.

The kids all make demands of Joyce like she’s a waitress, which she is very patient about, and then she remembers that Buffy has some mail. It’s from Ryan, the boy from the hospital. Is this the first time we’re hearing his name? I can’t remember and I’m not going to go rewatch this one to find out. Buffy opens the envelope to reveal a picture he’s drawn for her:

Joyce: “Oh, he drew you a picture. How…nice.”

Okay, let me level with you: I don’t like this episode. Not because it’s poorly written, not because kids die, not because it’s super boring and formulaic. I mean, it is all of those things. But I dislike it because it does not live up to the promise of “Passion,” its predecessor, nor can it hold a candle to “I Only Have Eyes For You,” its successor. This was a run-of-the-mill monster-of-the-week episode that would have been grea earlier in the season (minus the infuriatingly inaccurate medical science parts), but feels like filler here. The only thing I really enjoy about this episode is the character development we see from Cordelia, and Charisma Carpenter’s spot-on delivery.

But the next episode is one of my favorites and I can’t wait to write about it and tell you how awesome it is. Unless it’s not as awesome upon rewatch and I end up eating a pint of ice cream and crying about the unfairness of nostalgia.

STATE OF THE TROUT: “Holy balls, I hate the publishing part of self-publishing” edition

Hey there, everybody! As you know (or might not, because I’m bad at doing my own promotion), I have two new books coming out on August 4th! They’re both called First Time, and they’re both the same story, one written from the hero’s POV, one from the heroine’s POV. If you interested, you can read more about them here, and preorder them if you want.

However, since these are self-published, I am up to my sight orbs in work. I’m formatting them for print and e-book, making print covers, ordering proofs, the week is a nightmare. So, while I’m trying to keep everything on track, things might get a little behind. Them’s the breaks.

HOWEVER!

Someone recently asked about a “schedule” for Grey recaps. What I’m doing right now is trying to rotate all my recaps on a regular cycle. A Grey recap, then an Apolonia recap, then a Buffy recap, etc. The next Buffy recap may well be this week, as I’m almost finished with it. But again, I’m working like a trained circus bear on a matinee day trying to get all of this done.

I did have to stop and acknowledge, though, some of the cool stuff people have been sending me lately:

If you sent me something recently and I didn’t acknowledge it, I’m trash and I’m sorry. Let me know and I’ll make a video about that, too, because I don’t want anyone’s gifts to be unappreciated. Also, thank you all for the birthday cards!

So thank you for your patience, thanks to everyone who has pre-ordered First Time, and thanks for generally just being rad.

DOUBLE STEVE BONUS MONDAY

New Chapter of THE AFFLICTED!

Hey there, everybody! The latest (and way, way delayed) chapter of my free Wattpad serial, The Afflicted, has been posted! Thanks to everyone who patiently waited for this! You can read the chapter here, and if you haven’t been following along from the beginning, you can start here.

After her father’s death and her mother’s hasty remarriage, Evelyn Whitney is handed over to the Shaker commune of Bannock, New York, into a life she has little chance of escaping. When the dead become monsters and community loyalties fracture, Evelyn must rely on John Quill, a young hired man, for protection from the terrors outside the commune, and the dangers within. 

Get Sydney Blahnik to the All-Star Game!

Hey everybody! Sydney Blahnik has been selected to play cornerback on the All-American team in the Women’s Football Alliance’s all-star game, but she has to pay for her own travel. She’s trying to raise $1,000.00 to cover her expenses so she can go and play!

Sydney Blahnik (right)

The game is on August 8th, 2015 in Los Angeles, California, so there’s not much time left to raise the funds. If you have some to spare, Sydney would appreciate it!

Here’s the link to the fundraiser.

Jenny Trout: Celebrating 35 Years of Excellence

In case you didn’t see news accounts of the dramatic full arc quadruple rainbow appearing over the hospital where I was born, or you didn’t witness one of the tremendous parades held in my honor, today is my birthday. Or as it’s known in my head every morning, my personal best record for consecutive days alive. Since it’s a nice number that’s easily divisible by five (my favorite kind of number), I thought I’d take you on a walk down memory lane.

Join me, won’t you, for Jenny Trout: 35 Years of Excellence.

[This is an image heavy post. Click the "read more" with caution]

From my earliest years, I was an exhibitionist:

But also a fashion-forward style icon:

So I guess I could have been born into the Kardashian clan. Instead, I was born to some Irish people:

(That’s five generations, with me in the middle, swathed in the itchiest lace Jo-Anne Fabrics can supply, fully assuming a lifetime of Catholic guilt).

And some people as Russian as Vladimir Putin shirtless and riding a bear while complaining about how nobody has it as rough as he does:

(I’m the teenager on the far left.) (If you follow me on twitter, the man on the far right is the Russian gentleman known as the grandfather who routinely lets himself into my house to yell, “Jenny! I’m having a donut!” before taking said donut and leaving.)

As a child, I enjoyed nature:

but now I’m more of a “you absolutely can’t make me go outside and if you ask I will scream so loud and so long that a whole nation will hear me and rise up in force to drive back your evil and also allergies and mosquitos.”

I love dogs:

Cats are okay.

(Why didn’t anyone help that poor cat?!)

As I grew into a teenager, I began to develop my eccentric sense of humor:

I thought Beavis and Butthead was the pinnacle of hilarity:

I’ve been through a hippie phase:

A musical theatre phase (I’m the nun in the middle):

A goth mom phase:

A successful author phase:

and a not-so-successful, incredibly jaded, sad author phase:

But my amazing husband has been with me through the good and the bad:

I’ve got an awesome family, who don’t mind that I ruin all our vacation photos by blinking:

And I have a whole bunch of friends and you amazing people on the internet who get me through every single day just by being there, looking at my silly blogs, reading my smutty books, reading my not-as-smutty books, and generally being amazing. So thank you guys for that.

Now here’s to me, in my 35th year of awesomeness:

Photo credit: Rinda Elliot

May I have 135 more. Or more than that. I mean, with medial science the way it is. Also, I’m scared of death. Like, terrified. Oh god, I don’t want to be thirty-five. IT’S NOT MY TIME! I HAVE SO MUCH MORE I WANT TO DO WITH MY THIRTIES! I’M MARCHING TOWARD DEATH WITH EVERY BREATH I TAKE AND THERE’S NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT! AAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHH BIRTHDAAAAAAY WHYYYYYYYYYY

GUEST POST: The Beast, by A.R. Davis

From time to time, I turn over the blog to a citizen of Trout Nation who’s written a book and wants to get their promo out there. Today we’ve got A.R. Davis, here to tell you about her book, The Beast, and to share some anxiety that debut authors can definitely relate to!

 

 

My name is A. R. Davis and I love to write. I love to share stories with people, and I love making things up. I hope you’ll at least like one of my stories, if not all of them. My first book, The Beast, is coming out soon, and I’m not going to lie, I’m scared to death. I’m not scared of the criticism I’ll face or that people will pick up the book, dismiss it and get rid of it. I’m scared of the apathy. I’m scared that I’ll fail to convince people to even give me a shot. Those are the kinds of fears that keep me up some nights.

I’m hoping that, if you’re reading this blog post, I can at least convince you to give me a shot.

You can email me at writerardavis@gmail.com. My twitter is @writerardavis. I would love to hear from you, whether you love my book, hate my book, or haven’t even read it at all and have no wish to. I like getting messages. I’ll do my best to respond to them. I have a full-time job as well, so please understand I’m not ignoring you if I don’t get to you right away. I’m hoping to make this my full-time job one day, but until then, bills need to be paid.

Amazon e-book • Paperback

The citizens of Leola live in fear of the dense, dark forest that borders their town. Men disappear into the brush or are found dismembered as if they were attacked by a rabid Beast. But fear of a different kind also breeds in the citizens of Leola.

For Valerie Mason, starvation is worse than potentially disappearing. With her former guardsman father drowning his troubles in spirits, it’s up to Valerie to keep them afloat by any means necessary…even if it means breaking the law.

Young Aubrey, the future Lord of Leola, fears that once he dies, the pages of his personal history will be left blank. When he hears of the dangers threatening his town, he knows the only way ensure that he lives on in the memory of his people is to venture into the forest and defend it himself…even if it might cost him his life.

Valerie and Young Aubrey must each breach the veil of trees again and again on their own quests. Will Valerie or Young Aubrey emerge victorious, or will they fall victim to their own demons and The Beast?

Read on for the prologue of The Beast…

Prologue: Tellervo & the Beast

A girl asked her father to tell her a story. After pondering the question for a time, her father asked, “Do you know the story of the Beast?”

From his pocket, he procured a small wooden figurine of a monster wearing an emerald green cloak. He sported twisted black horns, and he hunched over as though ready to attack. His little mouth was open, exposing his jagged, white teeth. The girl could almost hear his roar.

She shook her head slowly as she examined the figure. It had been a long time since her father told her a story she had not heard before. Her father’s stories were always special. They did not include the typical hero-rescues-princess trope that she grew tired of. They were usually about normal people doing extraordinary things for the greater good. When the girl grew up, she wanted to be one of those people.

“Would you like to?”

“Yes, Papa. Very much.”

“This story is a bit different from the ones I’ve told you,” her father said.

“Does it have a happy ending?” the girl asked quietly.

“I’ll have to leave that up to you.”

The girl wanted to ask him what that meant, but he was already clearing his throat. He took a deep breath and began.

Once upon a time, two kingdoms, the red and the white, were constantly at war. No one knew why it all began because the two sides had been fighting for so long. Death saturated the land and then drained it dry. Battle cries filled the air for days and echoed over the hills and rooftops.

On the red side was a tyrannical captain who ordered his men to plow through the white villages and burn them to the ground. He smiled at the path of destruction he created; he loved the smell of burning skin and the taste of ash in his mouth. His palate could no longer appreciate the tastes of fine food. Instead, his teeth gnawed on the gritty black powder. He once had a life beyond this destruction—a normal life—but he could not remember what that was like, or if it was worth returning to.

One day, he and his men were trying to cut down the trees in the white’s forest, but no matter how hard his men hit the trunks with their axes and no matter how many fires they lit, the trees would not come down. The captain insisted that they weren’t doing it properly, so he grabbed an axe and started chopping away at the nearest tree. The axe barely made a mark. The captain kept hitting it over and over, sweat coating his face, his muscles aching for some reprieve, but he could not cut down the tree.

He turned around to face his men, to insist that the axe simply wasn’t sharp enough, but he found that he was alone. The forest seemed to darken at this knowledge, as though the sunlight had been sucked out of the world.

“Where are you, you cowards?” the captain barked to disguise his own cowardice. He swiveled his head around in every direction in search of a flash of armor.

Suddenly, there was a light so bright that the captain had to shield his face for a moment as it came closer to him. As swift as it had come, the light faded, and from it emerged a doe. She stepped toward him as though she had nothing to fear—not the smell of death on his skin, nor the gunpowder in his pouch. Slowly, the captain reached for his rifle. His men would love to dine on fresh venison, and he might even consider letting them have it when they returned to work. He aimed the rifle at the doe’s chest. In her large black eye, the captain could see a reflection of himself slowly distorting, changing as though he was made of clay.

At that moment, the captain’s muscles burned. His stomach seemed to fill with gas until it came close to bursting, and he doubled over in pain. Sweat coated his whole body. His armor became too tight for him and he wanted nothing more than to shed it like a heavy skin. He could hear the fine bones in his hands cracking. The captain fell to his knees, gasping for air. He yanked off his helmet and tore at his armor with his long fingernails. The scraping of metal set his teeth on edge. His chest plate burst apart, followed by his leggings.

Finally, it stopped. He took in deep, rasping breaths. His undergarments lay in tatters around him. When he looked up to see the deer, he saw a woman in its place.

This was no ordinary woman. Her skin was an olive green, her hair flowed wildly around her and looked to be made of twigs. Thick vines covered her body, accentuated by lush flowers in different shapes and colors. When she stepped forward, roots pushed up from the ground and spiraled into elaborate patterns.

The captain had heard enough stories and legends to recognize this woman: she was known as the forest fairy, Tellervo. She was staring down at him with such a rage that his heart filled with fear.

“How dare you!” Tellervo said, her voice echoing with the malice of a dangerously powerful creature. “I pour my life into these trees and fill the world with beauty. I protect the creatures that nest in my home, even you pitiful humans. I have given my life to this world because I have so much to give. What about you, dear captain? What do you have to offer?”

The captain quivered. “Please, mercy, please…”

“Nothing,” Tellervo spat. “Not even the mercy you beg for now. You are a monster, captain, such a monster that you no longer recognize yourself.”

Tellervo gathered the dew drops from the grass and turned them into a mirror. She held it up for the captain to see.

“Look at yourself,” she commanded.

The captain shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Do as I say.”

The captain reluctantly raised his head. To his horror, his face was no longer that of the man he once knew. Fur covered his face, black bone horns grew out of his skull and twisted to the sky, and when he reached up to touch his cheek, his hands had black claws like thorns.

“What have you done?” The captain cried.

“I have made you what you are.”

“Change me back!”

“No.”

The captain gave a booming roar. He lunged at Tellervo and sank his claws into her flesh, tearing it apart. He bit into the top of her head and chewed on her twig-like hair. The captain let it fall from his mouth, but all that came out was dirt. He discovered he was only ravaging the ground. For the first time since he was a small boy, he burst into tears, covering his ugly face and burying his mouth back into the ground.

Tellervo’s hand rested on his hunched back and he jerked away from it; her touch burned through the muscles and seemed to infect his bones.

“Though I am still angry with you and still see no good inside you, I am willing to grant you a reprieve.”

The former captain slowly looked up. “Reprieve? Does that mean you’ll change me back?”

“I will, only if you complete a task…”

“Yes, yes, anything!” The monster folded his hands together.

“In order to change back into your original form, you must complete one thousand good deeds.”

“A thousand? But…but that is impossible! Who would want help from me? I will be like this forever.”

“Those are my conditions,” Tellervo snapped. “Perform a thousand good deeds, and I will change you back.”

With that, Tellervo dissipated into the slowly rolling fog, leaving the Beast with hopeless curdling in his belly.

For days, the Beast wandered around the forest and hid from travelers and merchants. He buried himself in the mud to sleep. How was he going to complete his deeds? The fairy was torturing him.

One afternoon, while he was trudging through the forest, he stumbled upon a man lying very still in the middle of a clearing. The Beast recognized the uniform the man was wearing; he was a soldier for the white side. The man’s breathing was shallow. Blood pooled around him. The Beast carefully stepped closer until he was standing over the man.

“Who are you?” the man asked in a raspy voice. He was too preoccupied with thoughts of death to be afraid.

“I am…” The Beast searched for a name, but he had none. “I am a monster.”

“Well, I suppose a monster at my side is better than nothing. There are things I want to say, and for my last wish I want a pair of ears to listen. You seem to have a fine pair.”

“I will listen,” said the Beast.

“I never did anything right with my life,” the man began, tears welling in his bloodshot eyes. “I became only a murderer. I watched my own people suffer, and I made other people suffer. I should have done more.” The man started sobbing. “I should have done so much more. I once saw a child holding her doll and weeping beside the body of her dead mother. I brushed her aside like she was nothing. I laughed at death, but I suppose it is death who is laughing now.”

The man was too sad to go on.

“I was once a captain,” the Beast said. “I was just like you.”

“Then there’s no real difference between us,” the man said, laughing bitterly.

“No,” the Beast lamented. “No difference at all.”

“Will you hold my hand? I don’t think I will be here much longer.”

The Beast wrapped his large fingers around the man’s small hand. The Beast was crying now because he did not want the man to die. He had forgotten what loneliness felt like until this moment.

“Maybe you are different,” the man said, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes were slowly closing. “Other people only dream of dying in the arms of someone who understands.”

The Beast closed his eyes and looked away. After a long time, the man’s shallow breathing stopped and his hand went limp, but the Beast could not let go. At night, the Beast took the time to bury the man. He wished desperately that he had learned  his name.

The Beast stayed at the gravesite for three days before moving on. He encountered a woman whose clothes hung like rags from her body. The woman had bald patches on her scalp, and what little hair she had was very thin and limp. She was scrounging around for something to eat.

When she saw the Beast, she took a hesitant step back. “Have you come to kill me, monster?” Her voice quivered.

“No,” said the Beast. “I am here to help you if you need it.”

“Why?”

“It is how I will be free from this curse. What do you need?”

The woman still looked distrustful, but the Beast was patient.

“I need food,” the woman said, rubbing her arm. “And I need something else.”

“And what is that?”

“Bring me something to eat and I will tell you.”

The Beast hunted for her and brought her back some deer meat. He waited while she cooked and ate.

“I want to feel beautiful,” the woman said, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I have never felt beautiful, even when I was a child.”

“I don’t know how to do that,” the Beast admitted.

“I just want to hear someone say it. Just once.”

The Beast looked deep into her berry blue eyes, and suddenly, she was beautiful. In his eyes, her hair seemed to be restored to its full, black beauty. Her dirty skin was smooth and clean, and her smile was like a tiny light in a dark room.

“You are beautiful,” the Beast said, and she believed him.

“Thank you, Beast. You are very kind-hearted.”

She reached up to kiss his cheek and the Beast felt warmth surge through his muscles. Then, just as she had appeared in his life, she vanished, and again he wished he had learned her name.

Days and months passed, and as they did, the Beast encountered more strangers along the way who were in desperate need of his help. Some had reservations about his appearance, but once they recovered from their initial the shock, they found they could care less what he looked like. Much like the dying white soldier, they all agreed that they were quite happy that he was there for them. Even so, the Beast found that he could not enter any of the towns. He made the forest his home, quietly tucking himself away, but did not hide himself so completely that none could find him if they needed him.

On the eve of his final deed, Tellervo came to him, glowing under the moonlight. There was a smile on her green lips.

“You have almost completed my task,” the fairy said. “Soon you will return to your old self.”

“And what will I be then?” the Beast asked.

Tellervo studied him curiously. “You will be what you were before I changed you.”

“The captain,” the Beast said. “But I don’t know him. He’s a stranger. When I looked at his image, I could not share it. I can’t be him. I have done so much. Yet, I feel it is not enough.”

“You are right. You have done so much, and you are no longer the cruel man I met many years ago. You will be a new man.”

The Beast laughed bitterly. “I doubt that very much.”

In the morning, a crowd of people were anxiously awaiting the Beast’s appearance. He was completely overwhelmed by the crowd’s cries for help. The Beast listened patiently to all of their stories. When he was done, he studied their faces over and over; nameless faces that needed so much from him. But what would happen after this? Who would they turn to then?

“I’m sorry,” the Beast said, “but I cannot choose.”

The crowd erupted into shocked whispers.

“I will conceal myself deep into this forest to await the one most deserving of my final good deed.”

With that, the Beast retreated into the gloom, away from the anguished cries.

“Who will help us now?” he heard them shout. He heard them sob and it tore at his heart.

The Beast found a lonely log to sit on. He couldn’t believe how weary he felt.

Tellervo came to him once again. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Waiting for the right deed to come.”

“Why?”

“Because when it does, then that will mean it is over.”

Tellervo could not understand these mixed emotions swirling through her, like thick clouds of pollen in the spring.

“I will sit and wait with you,” she said.

“That would be very nice,” said the Beast.

So they sat and waited. People passed them by, but the Beast insisted that it was not enough. Each time someone came, Tellervo would glance at the Beast, and her heart ached at his labored sigh. Not enough, he would insist. They sat quietly together and watched the sun as it came up and went down and then watched the moon glowing between the branches. Moss covered their legs, flies and insects crawled on their bodies. They remained unmoved.

Eventually, the people took to helping each other, lending an ear or a kind word to those in need. Soon, the Beast was all but forgotten. However, the people would sometimes still whisper about him over a meal or a good drink. They would wonder about him, wonder if he was still sitting there, waiting.

“Who was he?” they asked sporadically. “Where had he come from?”

It was as though he were a great flame in their time of darkness, lighting the way to a new era of prosperity. They never found the answer, and many years later, when they went to look for him, they could not find him.

“Is that really the end?” the girl asked.

“Indeed it is,” her father replied.

“But what happened to the Beast and Tellervo? Did he ever change back?”

Her father smiled like he was about to part a long-kept secret. “That, my dear, is entirely up to you.”

 

A.R. DAVIS first picked up writing at age six after getting annoyed that the characters weren’t right in a Donkey Kong Country novelization. She loved it so much that she went on to graduate with a BFA in Creative Writing at UNCW. Visit her site: http://pencilprofessional.com/ to learn more and connect.

Jenny Reads 50 Shades of Midnight Sun: Grey, Sunday, May 15, 2011, or “The impossible has occurred: Ana is suddenly tolerable”

Aaaand we’re back.

Since the announcement of Grey, I’ve had some Tumblr messages and a few emails asking me if I would ever rewrite the Boss series from Neil’s POV. I can’t see a way that I could do that without being extremely derivative of E.L.’s move, but it would be an interesting project. In the meantime, I do have dual POV novels coming out on August 4th, entitled First Time. You can pre-order them now, if you’re interested.

Other thing: I get messages every now and then from people who are like, “I want to donate to your blog,” or whatever. And I appreciate it, and I always tell people to buy my books if they’re interested in supporting me, but if you’d prefer, I put up a Patreon. The higher level donations are definitely intended to be one time only, so please be sure to cancel your subscription or whatever after you make the one-time donation.

This day in history: Actress Barbara Stuart, of Gomer Pyle U.S.M.C. fame, died.

For your reference and enjoyment, here’s my chapter three recap of Fifty Shades of Grey.

Now, let’s do this:

Chedward starts his Sunday out with a run to clear his head. He dreamed of Ana the night before, instead of having a nightmare, and it has so disturbed him that he needs to push his body “to its limits” to get her out of his thoughts. Then there’s a section break and it’s two hours later, and he’s still out running. He sees a coffee shop and thinks maybe he should take Ana out for coffee. As always, underlines indicate italics in the text:

Like a date?

Well. No. Not a date. I laugh at the ridiculous thought. Just a chat–an interview of sorts. Then I can find out a little more about this enigmatic woman and if she’s interested, or if I’m on a wild-goose chase.

It would be ridiculous to assume that one would take a woman they’re interested in out on a date. How droll. Instead, we shall interview the aforementioned woman as though she were a candidate for employment. This proves how very businessy and Master of The Universe-ish we are.

Christian goes back to his hotel room, where he stretches, and:

Breakfast has been delivered and I’m famished. It’s not a feeling I tolerate–ever.

If you don’t like feeling hungry, here’s a thought: DON’T GO OUT RUNNING FOR OVER TWO HOURS. Shit like that has a tendency to make you hungry.

I hate the absolutes Christian throws out. “It’s not a feeling I tolerate–ever.” I know that it’s meant to show his very serious and dark and powerful side, but instead he comes off like a total brat who would start kicking and screaming if he got slightly hungry and food wasn’t immediately accessible.

We learn that he plans to eat before he showers, and there’s another section break. Dear fucking lord. I know this book was supposed to give us new insight to this fascinating character, but do we really need to hear about the order in which he’s going to eat and shower when it does nothing to propel the story? Most of this page is just him running, thinking about how he dreamed about Ana, thinking about coffee, then planning to eat breakfast and shower later.

Only in the third section, the bottom quarter of the page, does anything happen at all. Taylor knocks on the door and tells Christian that they’re ready for him at the photo shoot downstairs.

Room 601 is crowded with people, lights, and camera boxes, but I spot her immediately. She’s standing to the side. Her hair is loose: a lush, glossy mane that falls beneath her breasts.

Mane.

If Ana has that much hair growing under her boobs, though, that might actually be a symptom of a serious endocrine disorder. She should get that checked out.

She’s wearing tight jeans and chucks with a short-sleeved navy jacket and a white T-shirt beneath. Are jeans and chucks her signature look? While not very convenient, they do flatter her shapely legs.

Ugh, I hate it when a woman’s clothes don’t allow me immediate access to all the holes I would like to stick things in. But at least they make a part of her body pleasing to my eye, and that’s all that matters.

Chedward greets Ana and considers kissing her hand, but he doesn’t, stopping just shy of becoming a creepy, fedora wearing “m’lady” guy. Katherine is there, and is described by Chedward as standing “too close” to Ana, because he is Master of The Universe and dictates where everyone should stand. All the world is a stage, and Chedward Grullen will give you your blocking.

“Mr. Grey, this is Katherine Kavanagh,” she says. With reluctance I release her and turn to the persistent Miss Kavanagh. She’s tall, striking, and well groomed, like her father, but she has her mother’s eyes, and I have her to thank for my introduction to the delightful Miss Steele. That thought makes me feel a little more benevolent toward her.

Why do you dislike her in the first place? Because she’s well-groomed? Because she has her mother’s eyes? Or is it just that you like people more depending on how much they’ve done for you? I doubt it’s that last one because HA HA HA that would make you a gigantic dick bag.

Chedward calls her “the tenacious Miss Kavanagh.” Two things I’m real tired of this motherfucker doing. One, calling anyone “miss.” “Miss” is a word all men need to strike from their fucking vocabularies, because I have no patience for it (except in the case of when women self-apply it, like my friend’s stage name, Miss Quinn). It’s condescending, and there’s a reason men like Chedward do it. That reason is to be shitty on purpose. You can say “Ms.” and your precious masculinity won’t suffer. Second, he attaches adjectives to women and it drives me up the wall. The “delectable” Miss Steele. The “tenacious” Miss Kavanagh. He sounds like he’s labelling butterflies he’s pinned into a frame. “Here we have the lace-winged honey moth, and here, ah, the gem of my collection, the delectable Miss Steele.”

She has a firm, confident handshake, and I doubt she’s ever faced a day of hardship in her privileged life.

Are. You. Fucking. Kidding. Me.

Chedward is a white man who has literally billions of dollars, and he’s looking down on a college student for being too privileged. Yes, he had a difficult four years of his life, and tragedy and abuse, but at the end of the day, he’s a foster kid from Detroit who got adopted by rich people, given every opportunity in the world, and felt comfortable walking away from Harvard because it was beneath him.

Plus, he can tell that she’s never faced hardship because she has a confident handshake? Because women who have faced hardship can’t be confident? Or shouldn’t be?

You know what, fuck it. It’s because he doesn’t like women, and we all already knew that.

I wonder why these women are friends. They have nothing in common.

YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT EITHER OF THEM!

Ana introduces Christian to José, and of course Chedward is instantly defensive, thinking “Game on, kid,” as they shake hands. One of the things that really rankled in the first series was how dismissive Chedward was of José. He wasn’t just like, “I don’t like this guy, because he likes Ana,” it was always done with words like, “kid” and “boy,” when Christian is really only something like six years older than them. On top of that, a white guy calling a man who is not white “boy” or “kid” is, you know. Racial intimidation.

Christian gets into position for the picture taking:

As the glare recedes I search out the lovely Miss Steele. She’s standing at the back of the room, observing the proceedings. Does she always shy away like this? Maybe that’s why she and Kavanagh are friends; she’s content to be in the background and let Katherine take center stage.

Or–and this will probably sound crazy–it’s Katherine’s piece for the newspaper, so that’s why she’s in charge.

Hmm…a natural submissive.

I am sick to shit of this “natural submissive” bullshit! I AM DONE! WE ARE DONE!

Are there people who are naturally submissive, as in, they always stay kind of passive and will go with the flow for the sake of letting the more dominant people get their way? ABSOLUTELY. Could some of these people be sexually submissive as well? ABSOLUTELY. But one is not indicative of the other and I’m so tired of hearing it framed that way. Let’s say it again, for those in the back who maybe didn’t hear it last time: YOU CAN’T TELL IF SOMEONE IS A SEXUAL SUBMISSIVE WITHOUT THEM TELLING YOU OR SHOWING AN INTEREST IN SEXUAL SUBMISSION WITHIN YOUR OWN RELATIONSHIP.

All this kind of malarky does is tell inexperienced kinksters, hey, that creepy guy who just messaged you on FetLife saying you’re definitely a submissive and he can tell? Is a totally safe dude to interact with.

Everything about this book is crap.

Christian locks eyes with Ana:

Back down, Anastasia. I will her to stop staring, and as if she can hear me, she’s the first to look away.

Good girl.

Maybe it wasn’t like, mind control, Cheddie. Maybe it was the fact that you’re creepily staring at her and it’s making her uncomfortable. But whatever, as long as you’re affecting her, right?

After the photo shoot, Christian gets ready to leave, and he shakes hands with José, who is apparently antagonistic, because:

His antagonism makes me smile.

Oh, man…you have no idea.

What kind of prick gloats over trying to steal someone else’s…oh, right. I forgot what book I was reading.

Christian asks Ana if she’ll walk with him.

I mutter some platitude to those still in the room and usher her out the door, wanting to put some distance between her and Rodriguez.

He’s separating her from the herd.

Here’s a really good example of why this book isn’t working for readers:

“I’ll call you, Taylor,” I say, and when he’s almost out of earshot I ask Ana to join me for coffee, my breath held for her response.

The book is about how Christian felt when he met and fell for Ana, right? Yet there are several instances where he’ll say, “I asked her this,” or “I told her that,” instead of the reader seeing the dialogue being spoken and the characters reacting as it’s happening. We’re seeing more interaction with Taylor in this paragraph than with Ana. Since asking the question of Ana makes Christian hold his breath, then that’s the important part of the paragraph, right? It’s backwards; Chedward’s aside to Taylor should have been the bit that was glossed over.

Of course, Ana says she can’t go to coffee, because she has to drive everyone home, and Christian tells Taylor to take Ana’s friends back to campus.

“There. Now can you join me for coffee?”

“Um–Mr. Grey, er–this really…” She stops

Shit. It’s a “no.” I’m going to lose this deal. She looks directly at me, eyes bright. “Look, Taylor doesn’t have to drive them home. I’ll swap vehicles with Kate, if you give me a moment.”

Okay, this is interesting. Besides the part where Christian actually knows that “no” is a negative reply and not an obstacle to overcome, this part of the book reads a lot differently than the first book did. In the first book, Ana is still so, “Golly gee, why would anybody on earth like me, I’m so shy and stumbling and shy and insecure and shy and did I mention shy?” that I almost sprained my head rolling my eyes at her. From Christian’s perspective, it doesn’t read as though Ana is insecure, just that she’s worried about the logistics of getting her friends back to where they need to go without ditching them.

Much like Movie!Ana, I like Chedward’s POV!Ana much better than Ana Classic.

Christian waits for Ana in the hallway while Taylor gets his jacket and Ana goes back in to talk to her friends.

What the hell am I going to say to her?

“How would you like to be my submissive?”

No. Steady, Grey. Let’s take this one stage at a time.

Why? It’s not like you’d be the first romance novel douche Dom to pull that instasub bullshit.

How long is Anastasia going to be? I check my watch. She must be negotiating the car swap with Katherine. Or she’s talking to Rodriguez, explaining that she’s just going for coffee to placate me and keep me sweet for the article. My thoughts darken. Maybe she’s kissing him goodbye.

Damn.

She emerges a moment later, and I’m pleased. She doesn’t look like she’s just been kissed.

Maybe she forgot to turn the neon “I’ve been kissed” sign on.

Again, this is all supposed to be showing us how insecure Grey really is, as a way of excusing his creepy behavior. Instead, he just seems like an impatient dick, checking his watch while he waits on the woman whose plans have just changed because of him.

Christian asks Ana how long she’s known Kate:

“Since our freshman year. She’s a good friend.” Her voice is full of warmth. Ana is clearly devoted. She came all the way to Seattle to interview me when Katherine was ill, and I find myself hoping that miss Kavanagh treats her with the same loyalty and respect.

“Because I sure won’t,” he does not say, because no one asked me to write this book.

They get into the elevator, where the couple inside have just been making out.

As we travel to the first floor the atmosphere is thick with unfulfilled desire. And I don’t know if it’s emanating from the couple behind us or from me.

Well, you know, elevators smell bad sometimes. It happens.

I’m relieved when the doors open again and I take her hand, which is cool and not clammy as expected. Perhaps I don’t affect her as much as I’d like. The thought is disheartening.

I don’t even know anymore with this “affect” thing. He’s not worried about what Ana is thinking or feeling. He’s worried about what she’s thinking and feeling about him, and more importantly, that she have a physical reaction that will gratify him.

At the coffee shop, Christian asks Ana what she wants, and she tells him she wants English Breakfast tea, bag on the side. He asks her if she wants something to eat, and she says no. He goes up to the counter to order for them.

I have to wait in line while the two matronly women behind the counter exchange inane pleasantries with all their customers.

Okay, keep that paragraph in mind as we continue.

“I’ll have a coffee with steamed milk. English Breakfast tea. Teabag on the side. And a blueberry muffin.”

Anastasia might change her mind and eat.

Or she might not, since she said she wasn’t hungry. He’s already trying to control what she eats, this early.

So, Christian is getting the order, and this conversation happens with the woman at the counter:

“You visiting Portland?”

“Yes.”

“The weekend?”

“Yes.”

“The weather sure has picked up today.”

“Yes.”

“I hope you get out to enjoy some sunshine.”

Please stop talking to me and hurry the fuck up.

Yes, please do. Because this whole sequence could have been taken care of with the paragraph above, where he mentions that they’re talking to all of their customers. I understand that this book is supposed to show us the story from Christian’s perspective, I really do. But I, and a lot of readers, were thinking something more along the lines of seeing what he’s thinking when he and Ana are together, and scenes where he’s living his life and how those events shaped his side of the story. I wasn’t dying to read about what it was like when he ordered the coffee that time they went to the coffee shop. Because it’s not important.

Christian notices that Ana is watching him, and he wonders if she’s checking him out. Then he’s finally able to join her at the table.

“This is my favorite tea,” she says, and I revise my mental note that it’s Twinnings English Breakfast tea she likes.

I’m surprised it wasn’t on the background check.

As she tells me she likes her tea weak and black, for a moment I think she’s describing what she likes in a man.

I don’t know, his arms are still pretty jacked, suspenders or not.

This is an important detail, by the way. Once Christian realizes that Ana is talking about tea, the reader is reassured that Christian is not weak and, most importantly, not black. And you might think that’s a joke, but consider the fact that Chedward is hauling some pretty heavy clues around with him, like the fact that he was from Detroit and his mother was addicted to crack. In basically any other story, that would be code for “this guy is a black guy,” because stereotype dictates that crack is a drug only black people use, and Detroit is a black city. In conceptualizing Grey’s backstory, James has basically used the astoundingly negative stereotypical trappings we culturally associate with blackness, but on a white guy, because we’re supposed to view a white guy living a rough “black” childhood as being the utmost travesty of justice in the universe, thus deepening his tragedy.

I’m not saying this was a choice intentionally made by James. I doubt she got up one morning and went, “Aha! I should work an air of white supremacy into my fanfic,” but, like the abuse, rape, misogyny and homophobia, it somehow got in there.

Christian decides to get right down to business, asking Ana if José is her boyfriend.

She laughs. At me.

At me!

And I don’t know if it’s from relief or if she thinks I’m funny. It’s annoying.

Dramatic reenactment of me blogging that passage.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks out of the blue, and it’s the third strike. I’m out of this fledgling deal. She wants romance, and I can’t offer her that.

Okay, but how is it “out of the blue?” You interrogated her about whether or not she had a boyfriend right at the beginning of this whole getting-to-know-you conversation. And you thought she wasn’t interested in you in the first place. She’s given absolutely no indication that she might be into you. For all you know, she’s making small talk.

The whole, “Woe is me, I’m such an insecure billionaire, Miss Steele could never want me” nonsense would be a lot more believable if he didn’t clearly believe every single woman on the planet wanted him.

He tells her he doesn’t do the girlfriend “thing,” and I think it’s safe to assume that by “thing” he doesn’t mean “relationship” but “women are things.” Maybe that’s unfair of me.

HA HA NO IT ISN’T.

Then, the magical Twilight moment occurs:

Stricken with a frown, she turns abruptly and stumbles into the road.

“Shit, Ana!” I shout, tugging her toward me to stop her from falling in the path of an idiot cyclist who’s flying the wrong way up the street. All of a sudden she’s in my arms clutching my biceps, staring up at me. Her eyes are startled, and for the first time I notice a darker ring of blue circling her irises; they’re beautiful, more beautiful this close. Her pupils dilate and I know I could fall into her gaze and never return.

I wish you would. I wish Ana’s bottomless pupils would just swallow him up and we never had to read about his existence from this point on.

Also, Ana needs to go see Katrina the fortune teller to get rid of this bad luck.

Christian is holding Ana in his arms, not at all like Edward Cullen in the exact same scene in Midnight Sun:

Too frightened to have her this close to me, knowing what I would smell if I allowed myself to inhale. Too aware of the heat of her soft body, pressed against mine–even through the double obstacle of our jackets, I could feel that heat… (Stephenie Meyer, Midnight Sun)

Her body is pressed against mine, and the feel of her breasts and her heat through my shirt is arousing. She has a fresh, wholesome fragrance that reminds me of my grandfather’s apple orchard. Closing my eyes, I inhale, committing her scent to memory. (E.L. James, Grey)

Fun fact: Bella also smelled like plants. According to Edward in Twilight, she smells like freesia or lavender. In Midnight Sun, Emmet has a vivid memory of a woman and the scent of apple trees. And, of course, there’s a friggin’ apple on the cover of Twilight. But E.L. James’s works are not at all, in any way, connected to Twilight ever. How preposterous.

Chedward thinks about how Ana wants to kiss him, and he wants to kiss her, but he can’t because he doesn’t do “hearts and flowers,” a phrase that will be referenced over and over and over and over until you’ll never again see a heart or a flower without thinking of this franchise.

“Anastasia,” I whisper, “You should steer clear of me. I’m not the man for you.”

The little v forms between her brows, and I think she’s stopped breathing.

“Breathe, Anastasia, breathe.”

Because women literally die when he turns them down.

“Thank you,” she adds.

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

And I want to tell her that I’m saving her from me…that it’s a noble gesture, but that’s not what she wants to hear.

No, she probably doesn’t want to hear that your assumption that she’s ready to leap into your arms, wet and willing, is noble.

There’s angst because Ana isn’t into him now, after he’s told her not to be into him.

“Anastasia…I…” I can’t think what to say, except that I’m sorry.

“What, Christian,” she snaps.

Whoa. She’s mad at me, pouring all the contempt she can into each syllable of my name.

I think you mean both syllables of your name.

She disappears into the building, leaving in her wake a trace of regret, the memory of her beautiful blue eyes, and the scent of an apple orchard in the fall.

That’s all for this time. Check back for more blatant rip-offs of Stephenie Meyer’s work!