This book is so freaking overwritten. Think of everything we've talked about over the last 25 weeks and ask yourself how the hell it took 471 pages to get here.
Ana is leaving Georgia to fly home. The goodbye with her mother takes pages. (In which she, rather monstrously, seems surprised--she uses the word "marvels"--at the genuine love she feels for her own mother.) Emails with Christian are exchanged for pages. (Where she tries to get all Psychology 101 about whether Christian is capable of feeling love.) Every long, labored, pointless interaction of Ana's life, all of it, transcripted out for us in laborious, unnecessary detail. Because that's what bad writers think writing is. Endless details and... stuff going on. It is six. pages. before her plane even takes off.
"I become aware that once again the only empty seat is beside me. I shake my head as the thought crosses my mind that Christian might have purchased the adjacent seat so that I couldn't talk to anyone."
Haha, no one could be that controlling, right?
I'm not sure if this is really Christian being controlling, or if it's EL James giving herself an excuse to just time shift a tiny bit and not have to write yet another pointless, judgmental interaction with some peasant.
And then Ana gets to the airport and Christian's manservant Taylor picks her up and more blah blah blah. And then blah blah Christian's apartment blah blah "something's amiss" blah blur blah immediate sex needed blah blah blah shower blah blah "I have never felt so desired and coveted" oh my god blah blah bloobity blah blah blah two pages of badly written sex blah blah "I got a job" "congratulations" blabbity blab blab who actually refers to it as "sexual congress"? blur blurrrrr herp derp blah blah Christian doesn't like to be touched blaaaaaaaaaah breakfast bar blah blah play room blah blah safe words down on your knees.
"It's right for Christian. It's what he wants--and after the last few days… after all he's done, I have to man up and take whatever he decides he wants, whatever he thinks he needs."
Oh, here we go, the saving him through her love deal. Right, because love is letting a man do whatever he wants to you for his own good. Or, apparently, because he bought you stuff and you owe him now. Remember how you didn't want to feel cheap? What happened to that?
Also, I despise the phrase "man up" and its sexist connotations. Especially when women use it.
So blah blah teasing and an idiotic attempt to ratchet up the non-existent suspense and "jeez, he's so freaking hot" and blah blah blah blah blah blah blahing in the blah roaming in the gloaming here's my iPod and you're going to only be able to hear the music I want you to while I mouthify your vagina.
"Jeez, I hope it's not rap."
That's... that seems unnecessary.
(Incidentally, the right kind of music for sex is always soul and especially Prince.)
But no, it's Thomas Tallis, because EL James probably got it on some kind of sampler at Borders and other boring white girl shut-in reasons. So the fucking goes on for 8 spectacularly boring pages, and then Christian says Ana just talked some nonsense in her sleep, completely justifying the suspense the last chapter tried to build up, he said sarcastically. And they try to be cute and at least there is the bare minimum amount of aftercare (shoulder rub) and "you are hiding something Anastasia. I may have to torture it out of you." blah blah blah blah blah epic blah to last the blah blah long and fuck it, here's a cute picture of a cowboy pig.
Hey, only one chapter left.
That's the best news I'll have all week.