Fifty Shades Freed

Chapters Four and Five: Ana Steele is a Melania Who Thinks she’s a Michelle

“I’m restless.”

Do you want to know why Anastasia Steele is restless, readers? No, me neither but we don’t have a choice. She’s restless because her husband has been “holed up in the onboard study for over an hour”. She then goes on to list all of the activities that she has tried to distract herself with (reading, TV, sunbathing) and then complains about how edgy and upset she feels at his absence.

Girl, what did you do for the twenty-odd years of your life pre-husband? Oh, yeah, you got on with it. You can do that again. I believe in you.

Unable to keep herself occupied, she goes to find the butler and demands that he take her shopping via the jet-ski (they’re on a yacht, remember) and he gets nervous. This is clearly an attention seeking ploy to lure Christian out of the study and, when it inevitably does not work, she goes to bang on the door.

She tells him defiantly that she’s leaving the boat and his presence to go shopping. He says that’s fine. She is flabbergasted that he is comfortable with the two of them being apart for a short space of time.

I have to stress to you here, readers, that I am not making this up. This book is genuinely this upsettingly awful. The protagonist is genuinely a woman who cannot make a decision that doesn’t involve or prioritise her husband, and she almost always needs his permission to do even the littlest of tasks.

When she realises that he’s focused on work, (that pesky job of his that earns him billions of dollars and is yet mysteriously unspecified for us) she tries another tactic. She kisses him. He pulls away and tells her to go and have fun.

“Go spend some money.”

If someone I was sleeping with said this to me, I would be hurt or insulted. But our “heroine” doesn’t have a spine connected to any common sense in her useless brain so she just says, “will do” and “smirks”.

Jesus Christ…

It’s not her money though, is it? That’s the whole point of this book. It’s his money. She’s a twenty-three year old virgin who married a billionaire about to turn thirty, has had one job in her life and is now a kept woman with no self-love and an I.Q  that barely scrapes one hundred.

She travels to land via the jet-ski and Christian calls her on her mobile demanding that she be careful and come back in one piece.

“His response makes me smile. My control freak.”

Oh, yes. My adorable, psychotic, possessive and borderline-abusive little tyrant. Put it this way, if you’re constantly tiptoeing around your spouse and worrying about whether or not you living your life will make them angry, you’re in one deep pile of shit.


After returning to the boat, she and Christian have sex and it’s the same old missionary performance we’ve come to expect from them. Not that there’s anything wrong with missionary, in fact it’s lovely, but considering the fact that this book claims to be the bible for BDSM, I’m calling bullshit.

There’s barely any spanking in these books. I mean, do come the fuck on.

The next few pages are Ana studying her husband and boring me with an ongoing inner monologue where she wonders why he loves her. Why worry about it, girl? He married you, didn’t he? He’s still there, isn’t he? What do you want; an hourly reminder?

Babe.I love you and there’s no one but you. Gone to get milk. Back soon.

I don’t think so.

She reflects upon the arson attack on Grey’s workplace and goes into a spiral of worry and melodrama.

“Who would want to harm Christian?”

Lots of people, Ana. Myself included.

Christian shows Ana his new car when they leave the yacht to return home. She attempts to make a joke.

“You love your car more than you love me?”

Don’t ask a question you don’t want to know the answer to, Ana. The car probably has more personality than you.

They have sex in the car. Obviously. I don’t know, these scenes are so uninspiring. Possibly because the two characters are so dull and insipid. It’s difficult to get excited about two people when they’re so stupid and shallow. At least Chuck and Blair knew they were stupid and shallow. At least Scarlett and Rhett knew they were terrible people. The problem with these two is that they’re all ego and no substance.

And maybe Ana Steele has been written this way for a reason. Maybe she’s so empty-headed and vacant so that women can project themselves onto her and live vicariously within the context of the novel.

But that involves finding Christian Grey attractive. And I just don’t. He’s selfish and pretentious and he’s yet to crack a single joke. He makes women feel like shit, he takes himself too seriously, he has no friends because he’s such a bore and he’s controlling and jealous. Judging by the fact that we’re onto the third novel, I don’t believe he’s going to change any time soon.

I like unlikely love stories. And, sadly, there’s nothing unlikely about a rich, spoiled moron marrying a brainless bimbo who says she’s “not like other girls”.

Anyway, long story short: this book still sucks, will continue to the finish but it will be without enthusiasm. The “lay back and think of Scotland” kind of finish.

Until next time, shaders. Here’s another G.O.T. meme.



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