Updated on August 5, 2015
Shades of Christian – Meet 50 Shades
The story may be over but the book is not. I’ve stumbled across some extra material called ‘Shades of Christian’: a couple of stories written from Christian’s point of view! So, if you’ve ever wanted to see into the mind of an abusive psychopath, here’s the most sensitive depiction of that scenario you’re ever likely to see.
Read the Epilogue.
Shades of Christian
Meet Fifty Shades
Monday, May 9, 2011
So we’re back at the beginning. It’s like a horrible, horrible nightmare.
As I stare out at the Seattle skyline, the familiar ennui seeps into my consciousness. My mood is as flat and gray as the weather.
It’s gray. GRAY! Geddit?
The sobering truth is that the only thing to capture my interest recently has been my decision to send two freighters of cargo to Sudan.
Oh, if only a beautiful woman would literally fall into your office.
A whirl of long chestnut hair, pale limbs, and brown boots dives headfirst into my office.
Why did you notice her boots, specifically?
Clear, bright-blue, embarrassed eyes meet mine and halt me in my tracks. They are the most extraordinary color – guileless.
Ah yes, I’ve painted my living room guileless.
I wonder briefly if all her skin is like that – flawless – and what it would look like pink and warmed from the bite of a cane.
D’aww, it’s lust at first sight.
Her profile is delicate – an upturned nose, soft, full lips.
So beautiful! And she has no idea! What a wonderfully humble woman!
She’s all thumbs, dropping her digital recorder twice. Normally this kind of fumbling maladroitness irritates the fuck out of me.
I’m right there with you, Christian. (Don’t get used to it.)
She peeks up at me and bites down on her full bottom lip. Fuck me! How did I not notice that mouth before?
You did. You literally mentioned it just now.
She starts interviewing him and he moans in his head about how unoriginal her questions are, even though he knows full bloody well that she didn’t write them. Then when she goes off piste he gets pissed off that she’s being so forward.
“What do you do to chill out?”
Sailing, flying, fucking … testing the limits of little brown-haired girls like her, and bringing them to heel.
That sounds like a perfect answer for a student newspaper.
“I have a love of ships. What can I say?”
“That sounds like your heart talking.”
Heart? Me? Oh no, baby. My heart was savaged beyond recognition a long time ago.
Giving you carte blanche to be an abusive husband in the future, naturally.
Yes, okay, I admit it. She’s an alluring little piece.
I could really take care of you.
Shit, where the fuck did that come from? I do need a new sub. It’s been, what – two months since Susannah?
Cor, hurry up, mate. You might forget how to do it!
“Have you had to sacrifice a family life for your work?”
What do I want with a fucking family?
Ugh, yeh right, it’s not like you’re craving love or anything.
“Are you gay, Mr Grey?”
I’d forgotten she asked this question, and now I feel like everything that comes after is just Christian trying to prove that he isn’t gay.
How frustrating is this female?
I find it creepy when people say ‘male’ and ‘female’ like this. Like what, is she a specimen?
He realises that she hasn’t written the questions and starts quizzing her about who she is. He also refers to her (mentally) as a ‘creature’. It’s like we’re playing a game of Objectification Bingo!
“We run an excellent internship program here.” Fuck. I’m breaking a golden rule – never, ever fuck the staff.
You are neither employing nor fucking her at this point.
“I’m sure you’re far too busy, My Grey, and I do have a long drive.”
“You’re driving back to Vancouver?” It’s one hell of a drive, and it’s raining. Shit. She shouldn’t be driving in this weather.
People drive in the rain. That’s why cars have roofs.
He shows her out and scowls at his attractive secretaries because they’re always mooning over him. Oh, the troubles of being an attractive man! After Ana’s gone, he runs a background check on her. How romantic.
She glances up and freezes, pinning me with intelligent, discerning eyes. It’s as unnerving as the first time I met her.
Not as unnerving as you tracking her down and showing up at her work.
She’s all long legs, small waist, and perfect tits.
I expected Christian to use a more highbrow word than ‘tits’. I was wrong.
Letting her walk ahead gives me the space and time to admire her fantastic ass.
Likewise with the word ‘ass’. This definitely feels like EL James is doing her best to ‘think like a man’.
This is the hardware store scene, by the way, where Christian buys cable ties and rope and other bondage-type things from Ana, who works there.
Her voice is high, trying to feign disinterest. It makes me want to laugh, which is refreshing. Women rarely make me laugh.
Mate, you should read my stuff. I’m freaking HILARIOUS.
But how to start? Maybe with dinner. Now that would be novel; taking a prospect out to dinner.
Prospect? PROSPECT?! How many more ways can you talk about Ana without referencing the fact that she’s a human being?
Come on, Grey. You don’t have long. Engage her in some conversation.
Is it sweet that he’s giving himself a pep talk in his head? No, because Christian Grey is a psychopath.
She walks down the aisle. I follow her eagerly. What am I, a fucking puppy?
Following someone who knows where they’re going is not the same as entirely surrendering control. Get over yourself, Christian.
He asks her what she’s into and she tells him she likes books, specifically British literature.
Brontë and Austen, I bet. All those romantic hearts and flowers types.
Oh yeh, Brontë was all about the saccharine romance. Sure.
Fuck. That’s not good.
Reading is ESCAPISM. It’s possible to read romance novels without believing that’s how the world works. Jesus, if you are what you read then I’m fucked.
“How’s the article coming along?” I ask.
“I’m not writing it, Katherine is. Her only concern is that she doesn’t have any original photographs of you.”
Pfft, don’t give her any. Otherwise Ana will probably keep one in a locket around her neck and dream about your wedding day. Fucking romantic.
He gives Ana his number so they can arrange a photo shoot, then Paul (some friend of hers) shows up and Christian gets all possessive over her for some bloody reason.
The fucker engulfs her in a gorilla-like hug. My blood runs cold. It’s a primal response. Get your motherfucking paws off her.
Ladies, this is the love we must aspire to! Don’t we all want a Neanderthal to throw us over his shoulder? No subtlety, no nuance, just lots of growling and punching things!
“Paul, this is Christian Grey.”
“Mr Grey.” He shakes my hand limply. Wet fucker. “Not the Christian Grey of Grey Enterprise Holdings?”
Yeah, that’s me, you prick.
Christ, his internal monologue is as bad as Ana’s. It’s possible to love someone without wanting to kill everyone they talk to.
Paul fucks off – yeh, fuck off, Paul – and Christian and Ana are alone again.
Am I ready to take on a new submissive, one who knows nothing? Will she even be interested?
Aw, have confidence in yourself, Christian. You can emotionally manipulate anyone if you put your mind to it.
“That will be forty-three dollars, please.”
Is that all?
Even in the height of lust, Christian is never one to let a bargain go unnoticed.
Yes, against my better judgement, I want her.
Why against your better judgement? Because she’s shy?
Now I have to wait … fucking wait … again.
How dare she not jump into your sex dungeon IMMEDIATELY.
EL James signs off the book with a most ominous message: ‘That’s all … for now.’ Oh, please please please please stop. But alas it is not yet over! Come back on Christmas Day for the final instalment in this epic saga.
Read ‘Fifty’s First Christmas’.