50 Shades of the Complainist: Chapter 7

tldnr:
Ana sees Christian's sex dungeon, and all but agrees to his weird sex contract on the spot, but then Christian gets all angry at her for being a virgin. 

Warnings: Chapter 7 = sex dungeon, and the first parts of a pretty intense and terrifying sex contract. Chapter 8 = One long sex scene. Chapter 9 = Two more sex scenes but also they eat breakfast. 

We have almost arrived, my friends. Chapter 7 is the calm before the storm. It's a preface, really: we're going to see the sex dungeon, and get our first look at the mysterious paperwork. The whole thing is in and out in right at ten pages, so I'll probably be able to get through this summary in about twelve.

I often like to start these summaries with a sort of philosophical preamble. Something general about writing, or some bit of wisdom I've picked up on while trying to be a better writer. Instead, for this week, I'll hand that job over to EL.

50 Shades of the Complainist: Chapter 6

tldnr:
Ana and Christian take a helicopter to Seattle and Ana sees Christians sex dungeon for the first time. 

Warnings: Besides the fact that this chapter ends with Ana stepping into a sex dungeon, it's actually pretty bland. 

50 Shades is kind of like the novel-version of that time you had to stretch a term paper out from five pages to ten, so you adjusted the margins, added an extra space between each sentence, and then basically just typed in extra filler. Chapter 4 was a contrived excuse to get CG and Ana back in the same place at the same time; they wanted to be in the same place at the same time, only they had contrived reasons for not doing so, which resulted in a need for a second contrived reason to overcome the first contrivance so that the novel could move along again.

Chapter 5 is a bunch of foot-shuffling and throat-clearing, and in the end, CG is all, "Okay, I'll tell you my weird secrets, but I have to do it in Seattle." Chapter 6 is mostly waiting around for them to get to Seattle. Chapter 7 is all weird secrets, and Chapters 8 and 9 are just sex. Astoundingly inefficient! And, I expect, part of why you'll hear so many people talk about how they read the whole thing in a night. These readers may express genuine enthusiasm for the book, and state that they read it so fast because they enjoyed it so much. But, on some level, I expect plenty of people are reading this book quickly because there are just so many long stretches in which nothing of any importance is happening. Those stretches are quite easy to skim.

Like basically all of Chapter 6, for example!

(Editor's note: we did not skim. You know--for science!)

50 Shades of the Complainist: Chapter 5

tldnr:
Ana wakes up at Christian's hotel, and she doesn't understand how completely unreasonable this is, so they make plans for a helicopter ride and kiss in an elevator. 

Warning: this is essentially a chapter about Ana getting kidnapped while drunk. 

Of all my complaints about this book, here's my most complainy: it lacks any plot. Things "happen" in this book, in the sense that it isn't just Ana and CG lolling around in his fabulous bedroom for three hundred pages, but having things happen is not the same as having a plot.

A plot is an organizing principle that keeps a story from feeling like a cutting from a diary. Our lives don't have plots. They're just a collection of a bunch of things that happened to us, which is why biopics are almost always boring. (Exception: still trying to think of an exception.) A plot takes a bunch of things that happen to some characters and organizes them into the form of a question and an answer.

Complainist Fiction: Our Soccer Coach Teaches Art History

Our Soccer Coach Teaches Art History

by Alden Eagle

Guys, I’m not going to sugarcoat this: that was a terrible forty minutes of soccer. You looked like a Dutch painting. Like a seventeenth-century still-life. Some explosions of color, sure, but little sense of dynamism or vitality. Specifically, you guys are making me think of Vase of Flowers With Watch by William van Aelst. Now, who knows the painting I’m talking about? Anybody? 

Fine. I’ll just have to tell you about it. It’s a painting where there’s this table with a bunch of stuff on top of it. I guess actually it might be more of a ledge or a counter top, but that isn’t the main focus so forget it. What’s important is the vase filled with flowers and the watch.

This is a painting about slow decay. The watch is reminding us about the passage of time and the fact that we’re all going to die. And there are some signs that the flowers in the bouquet have already been there too long and the petals are starting to fall off and there are little holes where bugs have eaten the flowers and the leaves. It’s a painting that says, “Look, even here, where everything’s pretty, where there are all these flowers and nature’s bounty and everything, the stench of death is still in the air and there’s no getting around it.”

Gentlemen, this is not a flattering comparison! Look, I’m not going to tell you that I love Dutch still-life paintings. I’m more of a Vermeer guy, myself. Give me a lady making dinner or something, and not just a bunch of flowers. But even people who love a a good still-life, even people who adore a painting of a vase of dying flowers--those people would agree with me that a soccer team does not want to play the way a seventeenth-century Dutch master paints. If you play soccer like a Dutch painting, you will lose. Everybody knows that.

You guys are lucky we’re only down by two goals. It could have easily been worse. I’m talking to you here, Clay, so stop picking at the grass and listen up.  Defenders: you’re reminding me of A Still Life With a Dead Rabbit and Falcon by Dirck De Bray. Unfortunately, I mean that you’re reminding me of the dead rabbit, and not the falcon. Just standing around idle, like you barely even know that there’s a game happening. We really needed some of that falcon’s alertness, guys. The falcon knows what’s going on. The rabbit just lies there limp. 

Forwards? Strikers? Don’t think I’m going to start complimenting you guys, either. You’re playing sloppy, and you keep losing the ball with these lazy passes. You can’t just loft the ball in the general direction of the player you want to get it to. It’s so obvious. It’s like the skull in Still Life With a Skull and a Writing Quill. Think a skull symbolizes death? Of course it does! Pietro! How many times are you just going to lob a pass from the middle up to the wing like that? Their defenders know exactly what you’re trying to do, so they beat us to the ball every time. We need a little finesse, Pietro. You can’t just be so blunt and obvious.

We’ve got to change the painting in the second half, guys. We’ve got to. 

You’ve seen The Funeral of the Anarchist Galli? I hope? It’s a all about motion and energy, and that’s what we’re lacking. The black-clad anarchists in the painting are angular bundles of kinetic energy, ready to explode. We’re practically seeing their last bits of restraint wearing off before our eyes. That’s how we need to play soccer! You know the painting, yes? Carlo Carrà? Italian Futurist?

Seriously? Raise your hands if you’ve seen the damn painting. Anyone? Oh, of course. Just my luck--only Adams has seen it. No offense, Adams, but I don’t care if you know what I’m talking about. I don’t need the goalkeeper to know about Carrà’s careful control of line and color or the way the anarchists’ banners blend into the background, suggesting an endless field of movement and boiling tension. 

No wonder you guys are so difficult to coach properly. How can anyone play soccer without understanding the basics of art appreciation? 

Good news for us--my art history textbook was in my bag. Take a look so you know what I’m talking about. Look, guys. The color! The intensity! The boldness! That is our game plan for the second half, gentlemen. Got it? The Funeral of the Anarchist Galli. That is how we need to play soccer. I only wish I’d made copies for everyone, but sometimes you have to improvise. I thought this was going to be more of a Picasso-style match, but forget all those drills we ran at practice--the Guernica offense and all that. That’s over.

Did everyone get some water? Some orange slices? 

Good. Bring it in. Hands in. Let’s hear it: “Italian Futurists” on three! 

50 Shades of the Complainist: Chapter 4

tldnr:
Christian sends Ana mixed signals, so Ana gets drunk and José tries to take advantage of her and Christian comes to her aid but acts patronizing and stalkery in the process. 

New in this chapter: an attempted rape and some anger-inducing victim-blaming. Yes, CG really is a dream boyfriend!

Some thoughts on romance:

A writer-friend once gave me a succinct quick summary of how the contemporary rom-com works. And I know that that's a pop film genre and romance novels have their own, very different conventions. And also I know that this book is terribly unfunny. But still, I like comparing 50 Shades to my expectations about a sort of typical, romance plot.

Here, roughly, was how he summarized rom-coms: You've got some people, and they get along, and so they sleep together, because it's the modern world and that's what people do. But in order to make a plot out of it, there's got to be some reason they can't keep sleeping together, and that's why rom-coms feel contrived--they're basically an organized series of unlikely obstacles preventing two people who like each other from enjoying each other's company, when in real life, people who like each other pair off, and then endure mundane relationship dramas that are not as entertaining as contrived, pre-relationship dramas.

So, I would personally expect Ana and Christian to "meet cute" and then have sex and then get driven apart by something and have figure out how to get back together, with the protagonist (Ana, since she's the narrator) having to do the larger part of the work in patching things up. Knowing that this book is all about BDSM, that would seem like a logical wedge between them. And then the book could be about how Ana learns to stop worrying and love the paddle.

But what do we get instead?

Complainist Letters: Rejection

Dear Editor,

I hope you will consider my story, “Two Sad Orphans and the Terrible Things That Happened to Them Down By the Tracks,” for publication in your journal.

Should you find that it does not suit your needs at this current time, I have gone ahead and drafted a brief, heartfelt letter expressing this point. I have included said letter as a postscript. I know that you are busy, so please feel free to send this letter back to me at your convenience. You could, of course, write your own, or edit mine, but why bother, when this perfectly good one is already available?

Thank you for your consideration, 
Alden Eagle

PS
Dear Alden Eagle,

Thank you for giving us the opportunity to read your story, “Two Sad Orphans and the Terrible Things That Happened to Them Down By the Tracks.” You captured the sadness of the orphans and the terribleness of the things that happened to them down by the tracks with such exquisite pathos that we cannot help but wonder if our journal is even up to the task of sharing this story with the world.

Were it up to us, these orphans would be splashed across the pages of not just our journal, but every journal. And not just the journals of the English-speaking world. If we could, we would arrange for careful translations into all the world’s great tongues.

But alas, we cannot. Ours is a modest concern, and we cannot even afford to pay the majority of contributors to our website, let alone field the army of translators that this job would require, were it done properly. It is with a heavy heart, then, that we must admit that we cannot provide a home for these sad orphans. We believe that the only thing worse than a story rejected is a story forgotten, thanks to a spotlight too dim. In this case, our spotlight is too dim.

Please do not think of this as us rejecting you. Instead, think of it as us using our limited wisdom to let you know that you must, instead, reject us. You must take this story back, and quickly! Every moment it spends in our ink-stained fingers threatens to diminish its sad, terrible magic.

You honor us by thinking us worthy of this gem. If only you were correct!

Regretfully yours, 
Editor 

50 Shades of the Complainist: Chapter 3

tldnr:
Kate makes José take pictures of Christian and then Christian saves Ana from a bicycle and Ana thinks this is sexy.

Warnings:
We sort of, kind of, obliquely, a little bit, start talking about sex. Ugh. This book takes forever. 

So, this chapter is pretty terrible. You knew that already. I think I need to quit reading ahead, though, because now I have to go back and remind myself what already happened, so it's kind of like I'm reading this book twice at the same time. My hope, though, is that since so little happens in this chapter,  and it pretty much rehashes a bunch of junk already established, we can get through this relatively painlessly. Relatively.

(Editor's note: This summary ended up being pretty much exactly the same length as the previous two.)

I've been thinking about what it means to hate something so popular. I'm not reading this in a "so bad it's good kind of way."




(Note: if this video looks wonky, it's because Blogger has an extremely clunky method for "quickly" embedding videos that is frustratingly inferior to the way that, for instance, WordPress handles such things. I'd be happy to complain about the problem in great detail to you if you are the world's most bored person. Whatever.)

50 Shades is, indeed, so bad it's gone past good and come around again to bad, and it's worse for the trip. Asked of me on facebook: I continue to be genuinely stunned at how bad the book's writing is. Do you think that people just skip to the sex stuff?"