Chapter One
The Nightmare Begins
In my restless dreams, I see that town...
Maybe I am being a little unfair to these books. Maybe I Am Being A Little Unfair. Regardless, the nightmare does, indeed, begin here, and it is just as confusingly paced and context-free as an actual honest to god REM-induced nightmare. Not a great start to the book; admittedly the later chapters (as of writing this I've read to Chapter Four) do a slightly better job at not being extremely jarring, but this start is quite clunky.
The premise, at least, is simple, so the gunshot start of the novel doesn't make it difficult to follow. Anastasia Steele, our plucky (?) college-aged protagonist, must fill in for her flu-encumbered roommate Katherine Kavanagh to conduct an interview with improbably young and very sexy (?) CEO Christian Grey for the college newspaper, a thing that would certainly have the potential to happen in reality.
I'm fascinated by the way Ana describes her roomate, by the by. Maybe it's a me problem, but Ana's supposed attraction to Christian honestly feels less organically established than whatever homoerotic asides she can't stop making about Kate.
How does she do it? Even ill she looks gamine and gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair in place and green eyes bright, although now red-rimmed and runny. I ignore my pang of unwelcome sympathy.
Like.
I stare at her fondly. Only for you, Kate, would I do this.
Holy shit.
Kate gives Ana some instructions for the interview that seem pretty impossible to fuck up: press the button on this recorder, read the list of questions, take notes on Christian's responses. It is hardly rocket surgery, which I really, really need you to keep in mind.
Ana leaves after being given her very simple list of instructions (not complicated), although not before One More Homoerotic Comment About Kate.
She’ll make an exceptional journalist. She’s articulate, strong, persuasive, argumentative, beautiful – and she’s my dearest, dearest friend.
Like, I really have to stress that I have no idea why James didn't just write these two doing Hot BDSMs, because I would believe Ana wanting to get involved with Kate infinitely more than I would buy her almost stilted attraction to Grey if I wasn't already aware of what book I was reading. Or maybe it's just that I've got gay goggles welded to my face. Who's to say?
Anyway, Ana leaves Vancouver, Washington and heads toward Portland and the I-5 on her way toward Seattle, in case you were concerned about the efficiency of her route and whether or not she'll run into any undue traffic (I was really worried about this, personally). She makes sure to point out that she's driving Kate's car, a Mercedes CLK, as opposed to her own, shittier car, a Volkswagen Beetle. The whole drive is condensed into a single paragraph, which is fine, because it would be incredibly dull and pointless to read about.
Having read a little further ahead at the time of writing, I can pretty confidently say that Chapter One is really a more appropriate Chapter Two or Chapter Three, which is perhaps where some of the issue in pacing lies. Chapter Two sets up a glimpse into Ana's typical daily routine, which would have been a better way to start Chapter One; subsequently Kate's request could go near the end and the silly little drive timeskip paragraph could be rendered unnecessary by simply dividing the trip up between the chapters. It would also be a much smoother way to establish some rapport with and understanding of the protagonist for the reader, rather than jumping into the "meat" of things with little sense of perspective on her or who she is - stronger authors could probably accomplish this without a whole lot of trouble, and in fact I think Tamsyn Muir did a great job of this in Gideon the Ninth (read the Locked Tomb trilogy, and then tie me to a chair and make me finish it), but in this case it doesn't come across well. Personally, I'm pretty sure E.L. James was not worried about pacing in the slightest to begin with - the whole book suffers pretty heavily from "this was first published serially as an extremely unplanned fanfiction and then went through approximately zero edits prior to publication" disorder, a highly specific but very readily apparent sort of malaise.
After our little timeskip, Ana arrives in Seattle. She approaches Grey's offices, which are particularly, uh, distinctive. My first reading of this chapter had me immediately hooked on the passage describing the building, to which I've added a little emphasis.
My destination is the headquarters of Mr. Grey’s global enterprise. It’s a huge twenty-story office building, all curved glass and steel, an architect’s utilitarian fantasy, with Grey House written discreetly in steel over the glass front doors. It’s a quarter to two when I arrive, greatly relieved that I’m not late as I walk into the enormous – and frankly intimidating – glass, steel, and white sandstone lobby.
Call me a bit of a pedant, but I think we get the picture.
Ana enters the building and is greeted by a BLONDE!!! receptionist, who intimidates her with her immaculate semi-formal office outfit and smarmily arched brow (punchable trait). Consequently Ana hems and haws about her outfit, which as it's described doesn't sound particularly inappropriate or unprofessional for a visiting college student at all - a skirt of some kind, knee-length brown boots, a navy-blue jacket, and a blue sweater. Clearly Ana doesn't feel confident about it at all, though, and she's already beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable before even making it to Grey's office. She heads toward the elevator and finds her way to the meeting room, where she is greeted again by a BLONDE!!! receptionist.
Do I keep emphasizing that these women are blonde? Why on Earth would I do that?
Ana takes time while she waits to consider the situation she's found herself in. She laments that she has no real information on Grey, and doesn't even know how old he is (as if this would leave her somehow unprepared for an interview which will consist solely of reading questions from a piece of paper), before further thinking that really she'd rather be at home reading a book and that she's not too fond of delicate social situations like this one to begin with.
I’ve never been comfortable with one-on-one interviews, preferring the anonymity of a group discussion where I can sit inconspicuously at the back of the room. To be honest, I prefer my own company, reading a classic British novel, curled up in a chair in the campus library. Not sitting twitching nervously in a colossal glass and stone edifice.
Personally, whenever I twitch nervously in a colossal edifice, I prefer it glass and stone. Skill issue.
Not long after this completely amazing line, E.L. James hits me with something that makes me weep:
I roll my eyes at myself. Get a grip, Steele. Judging from the building, which is too clinical and modern, I guess Grey is in his forties: fit, tanned, and fair-haired to match the rest of the personnel.
To preface, this book would have been infinitely worse in almost every way if Grey had actually been in his forties; the amount of Cultural Baggage an age gap like that would inject into the mix of this already terrible situation would really be like throwing a Molotov cocktail into a raging tire fire. There would be so much more to unpack, and it would be horrendous. But I'm attracted to middle aged men and seeing that the possibility for just a slight breath of reprieve was so cruelly taken away from me is painful. It hurts. It hurts me. I could have at least had a garbage trash book with a hot guy in it, but instead I have to sit with the knowledge that this character is an expy of Edward Cullen.
Shortly after E.L. James dashes all my hopes and dreams to pieces with this snippet of internal narration, a third BLONDE!!! female employee approaches Ana to let her know Mr. Grey is ready to see her and to take her jacket. It's upon seeing this third BLONDE!!! that Ana begins to think someting strange is afoot, for some reason. Which is curious. Whyever should she think that about such an innocuous detail? Everything is perfectly normal in this office building.
There is Much Fuss Made about a glass of water, and then Mr. Grey and Ana finally meet. Apparently Ana experiences some regular difficulty in opening doors, because this is the first impression she makes:
I push open the door and stumble through, tripping over my own feet, and falling head first into the office. Double crap – me and my two left feet! I am on my hands and knees in the doorway to Mr. Grey’s office, and gentle hands are around me helping me to stand. I am so embarrassed, damn my clumsiness. I have to steel myself to glance up. Holy cow – he’s so young.
If I know anything, I know that this is exactly how college students talked in 2011.
In all seriousness, there's not necessarily anything inherently wrong with Ana being more than a little awkward and clumsy - people exist like this in reality, after all. The particular reason it comes across as worthy of criticism to me is because of the way the relationship between Grey and Ana progresses with this sort of bumbling, incompetent demeanor of hers taken into account. The BDSM aspect is, of course, deeply fucked from the get-go, but what strikes me is how absolutely disempowering Ana is as a viewpoint character. The intended effect of the books is ostensibly for female readers to project on Ana and vicariously live through her, but I can't imagine wanting to even just vicariously experience literally anything Ana thinks or feels - she's an extremely frustrating and timid reader proxy who's always kind of down on herself and who perceives herself as bad at everything, which I can already experience firsthand by putting the fucking book down. From what I understand, she never really gains much in the way of confidence or boldness, either, so one can't even enjoy projecting on her for the benefit of enjoying her character development. The fantasy being sold here fundamentally kind of sucks, right? This is not fun. I kind of want to shake her. I don't get it. Maybe it's the fantasy of being both fail and desirable, even to a man like Mr. Grey, which is much more comprehensible to me - but also, HE kind of sucks, too, so...?
Back to business, at any rate. Ana is, naturally, taken aback by Mr. Grey's Hot Hotness, and this is the part where I have to make a really sordid confession: I can only imagine the guy from the movies now and he is just, like, not at all attractive to me, so this is coming across as a very "informed trait" kind of deal. It's just no good, and I'm having a rough time. Anyway this happens:
If this guy is over thirty then I’m a monkey’s uncle. In a daze, I place my hand in his and we shake. As our fingers touch, I feel an odd exhilarating shiver run through me. I withdraw my hand hastily, embarrassed. Must be static. I blink rapidly, my eyelids matching my heart rate.
There is literally so much to touch on here. "Monkey's uncle," that classic turn of phrase so well-known for being regularly used by young people. The fact that she mistakes whatever bizarre reaction she has to shaking his hand for static electricity? Whatever the fuck that weird shiver is supposed to be? Is he giving her ASMR tingles? The blinking thing. This is all extremely FF.net and I don't mean that even remotely positively. I get that I'm being harsh but this was published and made into THREE MOVIES. Why? How? What the fuck?
Ana sits down for the interview and gets a good look around Mr. Grey's office, then thinks this.
[The] rest of the office is cold, clean, and clinical. I wonder if it reflects the personality of the Adonis who sinks gracefully into one of the white leather chairs opposite me. I shake my head, disturbed at the direction of my thoughts[...]
I'm so fucked up.
After this really fascinating aside, she starts digging shit out of her bag, which she didn't do in the waiting room because then we wouldn't be treated to her struggling at yet another very basic task. Do you remember how I said this interview wasn't rocket surgery? Do you remember how I wanted you to keep that detail in your heart? Now is a very good time to recall that I said that, if you'd forgotten. She grabs her notes, then struggles significantly with the recorder, prompting Grey to make fun of her.
Next, I set up the mini-disc recorder and am all fingers and thumbs, dropping it twice on the coffee table in front of me. Mr. Grey says nothing, waiting patiently – I hope – as I become increasingly embarrassed and flustered. When I pluck up the courage to look at him, he’s watching me, one hand relaxed in his lap and the other cupping his chin and trailing his long index finger across his lips. I think he’s trying to suppress a smile.
[...]
“Do you mind if I record your answers?”
“After you’ve taken so much trouble to set up the recorder – you ask me now?”
I flush. He’s teasing me? I hope. I blink at him, unsure what to say, and I think he takes pity on me because he relents. “No, I don’t mind.”
Talk about shithead behavior on Mr. Grey's part, here! It continues to be bad.
I swallow nervously. “I have some questions, Mr. Grey.” I smooth a stray lock of hair behind my ear.
“I thought you might,” he says, deadpan. He’s laughing at me. My cheeks heat at the realization[.]
I'm going to present some lightly edited commentary I initially made on this exchange from my tumblr blog, because I really have no further notes here:
1. This reminds me of a fanfiction I read once that was, at least in construction, significantly better than this. The guy in said fic was a massive dickhead and was purposefully demeaning the girl he was speaking to while she was in a very stressful situation, because the author was explicitly into degradation and shit like that. It was a miserable read, but it was clearly done with the express intent of making him infuriating by proxy. I can’t really explain why, but I don’t get the sense that this is the emotion James is trying to evoke in me, which makes this exchange extremely puzzling. In the fic I’m talking about, it made sense that the girl was at such a level of anxiety that she was unable to come across very well. She was in very unfamiliar territory - it was a situation in which she felt physically unsafe- and she was also established as very sheltered. It made sense both that she would say stuff that frustrated me as the reader in that moment and that the guy responded very cruelly and made it into a shitty game. I’m not saying it’s implausible for Ana to be THIS nervous in this context, nor for Grey to be such a dickhead, but I think it’s just frustrating me more from a writing context because this is really my immediate introduction to both of these characters. In the fic I’ve discussed, I already knew who the guy was, and the girl was established before he came into the picture as sheltered, desperate, and frightened; there were actual stakes involved and I was more invested in her perspective. In this context I just keep asking myself, like, “why is Anastasia so fucking bad at everything?”, which is probably uncharitable, but like...from the jump she’s been framed as this bafflingly incompetent protagonist, with few mitigating factors that would make me feel more patient for her. I don’t know who she is on a deeper level or why this would be a difficult situation for her, I just know that I want to scream every time she opens her mouth.
2. He is laughing at you. That was a fucking stupid thing to say.
Like I said, Grey sucks. Moving on.
"You’re very young to have amassed such an empire. To what do you owe your success?" I glance up at him. His smile is rueful, but he looks vaguely disappointed.
"Every time I see a colleague I Fuck them in the Prostate and become their Master so we can Business." He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare. "It’s all about rewards, or something. I’m in the business of business, and it’s an industry full of competitors. Which is why you have to fuck them all in the ass. Anyway, I know what I’m talking about. I’m a real CEO."
Wait shit he didn't say that
"Business is all about people, Miss Steele, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well." He pauses and fixes me with his gray stare. "My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic and facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is, it’s always down to good people."
I really can't fault James for not knowing how a legitimate CEO would choose to respond to a question like this, but the vague, buzzwordy response Grey actually gives is so unreasonably funny to me I can't fucking stand it in the least. Synergy! Incentives! Next quarter! Dow Jones! Like, oh my God.
Ana reacts vey negatively to the arrogance of Grey's response, apparently not realizing that "CEO" and "arrogant" are about as closely related as "water" and "wet" conceptually, and decides to attempt to call Grey on this by pushing his buttons a little (you know, that thing arrogant jerks respond extremely well to). She asks him if he's not simply lucky, rather than extremely skilled and good at everything all the time, and I'd be pleased at her suddenly growing a spine if it wasn't for the most juvenile reason imaginable within the established context. They verbally spar about this a bit, and Ana mentally labels Grey a conrol freak (spoiler: THIS WILL COME UP AGAIN). Grey eventually is convinced to say this:
"Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things," he continues, his voice soft.
Which, man, if this were a better trilogy that would be a slam dunk brilliant thesis statement for the rest of the novel. "In order to acquire and maintain power, you have to indulge your secret fantasy in which you are entitled inherently to such power at any cost - and this is destructive and wrong" should be the entire point of positioning Christian as this megalomaniacal madman. Erotica doesn't have to be dumb, and it would be far more satisfying and coherent if this were the ostensible point outside of all the sex scenes and improper BDSM. Normally I'd reserve judgment until the end of the whole shebang, but I'm given to understand I have basically nothing to hope for in this arena and the actual thesis statement of Fifty Shades as a trilogy is probably something closer to "Being a Dom gives you sex telepathy."
The pair of clowns has some more back-and-forth banter after this, mostly focused on Ana trying to pry into Grey's secret inner workings or something. She finds him Very Sexy but also Somehow Kind Of Offputting, and to be fair, everything he's said up to this point has been unfathomably deranged, so there's certainly no blaming her. She almost gets him with a probing question about how guarded he is, but doesn't quite tear down his defenses, and he ends up turning things around on her, asking a few probing questions of his own before suggesting she ought to consider an internship at his company before she graduates. The interview ends, and Ana prepares to leave.
“You’re driving back to WSU in Vancouver?” He sounds surprised, anxious even. He glances out of the window. It’s begun to rain. “Well, you’d better drive carefully.” His tone is stern, authoritative.
You know. Stern and authoritative...because he's a DOM!
“Thank you for the interview, Mr. Grey.”
“The pleasure’s been all mine,” he says, polite as ever.
As I rise, he stands and holds out his hand.
“Until we meet again, Miss Steele.” And it sounds like a challenge, or a threat, I’m not sure which. I frown. When will we ever meet again?
This bit is a little creepy on my second pass through. I'll leave you to sort out why that is :)
After this, Ana leaves. I'll let the closing portion of this chapter speak for itself, for the most part.
[The receptionist] leaps up and retrieves my jacket, which Grey takes from her before she can hand it to me. He holds it up and, feeling ridiculously self-conscious, I shrug it on. Grey places his hands for a moment on my shoulders. I gasp at the contact. If he notices my reaction, he gives nothing away. His long index finger presses the button summoning the elevator, and we stand waiting – awkwardly on my part, coolly self-possessed on his.
The doors open, and I hurry in desperate to escape. I really need to get out of here. When I turn to look at him, he’s leaning against the doorway beside the elevator with one hand on the wall. He really is very, very good-looking. It’s distracting. His burning gray eyes gaze at me.
“Anastasia,” he says as a farewell.
“Christian,” I reply. And mercifully, the doors close.
Definitely how you feel when you've just met someone who's not a serial killer!