Arts

Warnings: The Fifty Shades series is extremely sexually explicit and involves BDSM. Because of that, and because they are not exactly well-researched or high-quality literature, I will mention things such as abuse, rape, rape culture, male dominance, sexism, relationship violence, and consensual BDSM. Also, the books began as Twilight fanfic, so I will be mentioning Twilight (which is a major squick for a lot of people just by itself).  This post contains a lot of mentions of oral sex.  And also Mark Driscoll.

Oh, come on.  You knew I would eventually bring it around to Pastor Mark, right?

Remember the time Mark Driscoll said that wives should suck their husbands off in the morning?  I’ll bet this chapter would be his favorite (if Ana and Christian were properly married, good little Reformed Christians, that is).  Thankfully, according to Pastor Mark, oral sex is commanded in the Bible, since Song of Solomon is actually yet another list of rules for us to follow.  Makes sense that “Thou shalt commit blow jobs” is on the list, right?  And of course, it needs to be in the text of the Bible in order to be acceptable; God forbid we should perform any sex acts that don’t specifically appear in the Christian Owner’s Manual™.

Still, here we have Ana doing for Christian what Pastor Mark agrees is a great way to wake up (though they reserve it for after brekky).  I wonder if he would approve of doing it in the tub, since that’s not in Scripture.  I have no doubt that he would heartily endorse Ana’s obvious enjoyment of her first experience, though.  Both Pastor Mark and E. L. James seem to have the same assumption that the mere thought of giving head will make even a first-timer pant with lust.  (Not saying that it shouldn’t, or couldn’t, just that someone with no experience isn’t necessarily going to feel that way.)

Anyway, the chapter reeks of the awful writing found in the entire rest of the book.  This particular scene is characterized by its glaring lack of attention to proper details.  I think, as in the previous chapter, the author is going for “hot smut.”  The idea is that it’s not important whether all the body parts function strictly the way they do in real life, or whether Ana yells like a pirate, or whether she sticks his schlong in her mouth without rinsing off the damn soap first.  We’re supposed to suspend our disbelief for the sake of feeling aroused by the graphic descriptions of sex.

I’m not buying it.

A common complaint about sex scenes is that no one wants realism.  No one really wants to read about people pausing to put on a condom or cleaning up after the act, and no one is interested in the messier, more awkward aspects of actual sex.  That’s likely to be true; I wouldn’t know.  I don’t discuss smutty novels with my friends on a regular basis, so I’m not sure what they do or don’t like.  What I do know is that the opposite is certainly true: Ana and Christian’s almost-but-not-quite coherent bedroom antics are just as unreadable.

Fifty Shades sucks, blows, and bites, and not in a good way.  I’m not bothered by the fact that even losing her virginity is a lot smoother for Ana than for us regular people.  What bothers me is that it’s just so over-the-top badly written that it moves from sensual fantasy into just plain ridiculous.  If this is supposed to get me hot, it’s not working.  I’m not even blushing anymore.  I’m just left feeling kind of confused.

I’m pretty liberal, so I honestly don’t have much of a problem with Christians reading erotica.  In fact, well-written sensuality can lead to greater intimacy in a relationship.  With the right element of realism, the fantasy can move off the pages and into the bedroom, especially with couples who are willing to experiment.  I also think that erotica aimed at women can be empowering, because for a long time it was denied that women even had sex drives or the ability to have orgasms (yep, it’s true).  But smut of the Fifty Shades variety (or the Mark Driscoll variety) is so unhealthy and unrealistic that it does more harm than good.

Also, a tip: Bathtub sex is not practical, but if you’re going to go down on your man in the tub, at least make sure he’s not covered in suds.

Warnings: The Fifty Shades series is extremely sexually explicit and involves BDSM. Because of that, and because they are not exactly well-researched or high-quality literature, I will mention things such as abuse, rape, rape culture, male dominance, sexism, relationship violence, and consensual BDSM. Also, the books began as Twilight fanfic, so I will be mentioning Twilight (which is a major squick for a lot of people just by itself).

Nothing says “night of fabulous lovemaking” like a hearty breakfast.

I think this whole section of the book might have gone unnoticed if not for two things:

1. The overall bad writing
2. The overall bad elements we’ve seen so far

The fact that Bella Ana gets up in the morning and decides to make breakfast in a strange kitchen to celebrate turning into a pirate becoming a woman is a little strange.  I can say with 100% honesty that I have never, ever experienced this.  Not once in my life has sex caused me to feel more domestic.  That might be because I’m not a morning person and I don’t generally enjoy cooking, so your mileage may vary.  However, I’m not nosy enough to ask my friends,

Hey, you know how you and your spouse/partner got it on last night?  Well, did that give you a craving for pancakes and bacon?

What really bothers me, though, is that suddenly Ana seems to be going all “woman’s proper place” on us.  The subtle message here is that

• Ana was previously a mere child
• Sex made her into an adult
• Adult women know their way around a kitchen, no matter whose house it is

None of those are good messages for girls or women.  First, the idea that having sex (specifically penis-in-vagina sex) makes one a “real” adult is faulty.  Unfortunately, some Christians have inadvertently reinforced that message.  Among conservative Christians, sex is intended only for marriage and any form outside of that bond is sinful.  Meanwhile, young people hear the message from the pages of books and magazines that having sex makes one into an adult, a poor message at a critical time of life when many adolescents, longing to be independent, play at being grown-ups.  The combination is a recipe for disaster.

In some churches, people marry at much younger ages than might be best for them.  I can remember tremendous pressure in college to find Mr. Right.  We weren’t supposed to have sex before marriage, and both marriage and sex were thought to bring us solidly into adulthood.  I don’t regret being a very young bride, but I doubt that I would have made those choices if womanhood and sex/marriage hadn’t been conflated.

Now we see Ana thrust into much the same situation.  Apparently, what makes her a “real” adult is not graduating from college and embarking on a path of discovery about herself and what she wants in life.  It’s having sex with a virtual stranger who’s into some kinky stuff.  Oh, and making him breakfast, as he obviously needs to keep up his strength.  See what the author did there?  She turned Ana from a soon-to-be college graduate into a potential domestic servant.  Obviously, that’s what real femininity and womanhood are all about, right?  They’re all about satisfying your man and cooking him some bacon.

That’s not healthy, and it’s certainly not what I want to teach my own daughter.  I hope that when she’s an adult—a real adult—she understands that it isn’t sex or marriage or parenthood that makes her a woman.

That’s it for today.  Stick around as I continue my focus on women, counting down to the official launch of A Year of Biblical Womanhood.  Next Monday, come back for some further unfortunate connotations to the bacon theme.  And don’t forget to submit your essays for the contest.

Warnings: The Fifty Shades series is extremely sexually explicit and involves BDSM. Because of that, and because they are not exactly well-researched or high-quality literature, I will mention things such as abuse, rape, rape culture, male dominance, sexism, relationship violence, and consensual BDSM. Also, the books began as Twilight fanfic, so I will be mentioning Twilight (which is a major squick for a lot of people just by itself).

Guess what time it is?  You’ve got it—it’s Monday; time for another round of spot-the-crappy-writing.  In this edition: Ana loses her virginity!

I think the strangest part here is that Ana, at age 21 or 22, appears not to have ever had any attraction to anyone up to this point.  Again, I think this shows an exaggerated form of Bella Swan.  That, or someone raised in a fundamentalist church; whichever.

We’re apparently supposed to believe that Ms. Inexperienced has never done any kind of experimenting, even by herself.  In fact, it would seem that she didn’t even entertain crushes or fantasies.  Actually, this is starting to remind me of some of the things my ex-fundamentalist friends have told me about their adolescent years.

Anyway, when Christian finds out that Ana is a virgin, he gets mad at her.  I don’t know whether this is just more bad writing, or if it’s some kind of scathing commentary on the way women’s virginity is usually some kind of prize men get to claim.  I mean, when I was in college, I learned that Keeping the Gate Locked™ was highly valued—so much so that more than one of my friends was crushed by a potential or actual boyfriend when he learned that she’d already given away her Special Gift®.  Here in the Fifty Shades universe we have a man raging about the opposite.  There’s some serious irony there.

Moving right along, we—finally!—get to the famed smut of the series.  Because he’s such a thorough and dutiful stalker lover, Christian is willing to break Ana in before abusing her entering into a perfectly healthy, adult relationship that happens to include kinky sex.  Suddenly, Ana develops a sex drive.  See what E. L. James did there?  Great plot device, no?

What I find distasteful about this section is that even though Christian is mad that Ana’s a virgin, we are clearly meant to see it as a virtue (and therefore, any girl who actually wants sex is a slut; see Ana’s friend Kate for a prime example of that trope).  The whole scene plays into the Ultimate Fantasy that women should be virgins and that all they need is a big, strong man with lots of experience to teach them the ways of lovin’.  Apparently, this is the best that Ms. James can do.  She seems to think that this is actually the fantasy of millions of women, rather than seeing it for the long-standing crappy romance novel tradition that it is.

This is probably TMI, but I’m going to share it anyway.  The first time I had intercourse, it was nothing like what Ana experiences.  We got married at 9 in the morning, had a long day of eating, dancing, and thanking friends, and took a fairly late flight to our honeymoon.  We stood in line at the check-in desk for half an hour listening to people complain about the service before we got our room key.  My hair was shellacked in place with the pound of hairspray I had used, so I needed a shower.  It was about 2 in the morning before we even got into bed.  Seriously, my husband could have been Christian Grey (without the abusive, rapey overtones) and it still wouldn’t have been an awesome pinnacle of great sex.  But here’s the difference: I was in love with my husband.  No matter how awkward it felt, or how tired we were, it was us.  I’ll take that any day over what poor Ana got.

Anyway, at last we have our first taste of the much-gossiped-about smut.  I highly recommend that you read chapter 8 in parallel with Jen’s version of the events.  Trust me, it will be easier to get through it.  It’s all downhill from here, and not in a good way.

Stick around this week, there’s plenty of good stuff to come.  Otherwise, join me again next Monday for…dun, dun, dun…the Kitchen Scene.