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GJ Reads Grey, Chapter 1

Kate Sloan

As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, there’s a new Fifty Shades book. Because E.L. James totally needs more money, right?

It’s called Grey: Fifty Shades of Grey as Told by Christian. And as much as I hate E.L. James’ writing, as much as I loathe the campaign of kink miseducation she’s inadvertently created with her shoddily-researched “literary” empire, I just couldn’t stay away. I was too curious. I had to get my hands on this goddamn book.

I mean, it’s not like this is a surprise. I have seen the Fifty Shades movie FOUR TIMES, after all (most notably, at Drunk Feminist Films and while eating pizza and riding a Sybian). I endured these viewings and half of the first book despite pretty much hating every second of both, because, I guess, I’m even more of a masochist than Anastasia Steele.

(Is Ana even a masochist, though? Emotionally, maybe… but sexually, I don’t get the impression that she’s as into pain as Christian wants her to be. Anyway, that’s a can of worms for a whole ‘nother day…)

So without further ado, I’m gonna start a series of blog posts wherein I review and pick apart Grey, chapter by chapter. I can’t guarantee I will get through all the chapters; it’s an absurdly long book. But for as long as I can bear to read this garbage, I will blog about it. Because what’s the point of reading shitty shit if I can’t even snark on it?

(Incase you needed to be told: THERE BE SPOILERS AHEAD!)

Chapter 1

Grey opens with a dream Christian is having wherein he is a child, but I’m so used to E.L. James’ terrible writing that I thought it was just Adult Christian’s inner monologue for a while.

I have three cars. They go fast across the floor. So fast. One is red. One is green. One is yellow. I like the green one. It’s the best.

The dream Christian is having is actually a memory of his drug dealer/prostitute mother, who calls him “Maggot” and otherwise largely ignores him. Because that’s what drug addicts do, right? And because sad childhoods inevitably lead to sexually fucked-up adulthoods, right? Guh. This book is pissing me off already.

After Christian wakes up, he goes for a run on his treadmill while watching the “morning business news” on TV. One of my favorite features of the Fifty Shades franchise is how little E.L. James knows about business, or even the business that her main character is the boss of. The phrase “business meeting” is repeatedly used in the first book and movie. Like… can you do the tiniest bit of research on the lingo of the world you’re inhabiting? Or at least be the slightest bit more specific than “business” in all the many, many contexts you use that word?

Later in the day, Grey meets with his personal trainer, who is named Bastille. It’s like James is trying to make a historical reference, something about how Christian’s physical fitness and aggression serve to protect him from emotional vulnerability the way the Bastille fortress protected the French in its day. But I dunno. It doesn’t quite work. I mean, what kind of a name is Bastille?

My mood is as flat and gray as the weather.

Oh, Christian, what an original thought.

At work now, Christian is scheduled to be interviewed by journalism student Kate Kavanagh for her school’s newspaper. Grey and Kate’s father have “done business together” (yup, another vague reference to “business”) and Christian is “curious about his daughter.” Is he planning to mack on Kate?

Of course, Kate’s fallen ill, and Anastasia Steele has been sent as her replacement. Though Christian initially “repress[es his] natural annoyance at such clumsiness” when she falls headfirst through his office door (what a kLuTzZz!!), he’s immediately caught up in her “powder blue and guileless” eyes that seem to be able to “see right through” him, and then all of a sudden he’s wondering “what [her skin] would look like pink and warmed from the bite of a cane.” Yikes. This guy is an instantaneous predator. Straight creepin’.

She gapes at me, and I resist rolling my eyes. Yeah, yeah, baby, it’s just a face, and it’s only skin deep. I need to dispel that admiring look from those eyes but let’s have some fun in the process!

Oh my god, I hate this guy.

A bashful, bookish type, eh? She looks it: poorly dressed, her slight frame hidden beneath a shapeless sweater, an A-line brown skirt, and utilitarian boots. Does she have any sense of style at all?

Uhhh, Christian Grey is definitely having a Miranda Priestley moment.

He goes on to remark to himself that Ana can’t possibly be a journalist because she lacks assertiveness and seems submissive. As a journalist myself, yes, I can say it is true that you need to be assertive. But what the fuck is this conflation of weakness and passivity with submissiveness? Being a sexual submissive is incredibly active in many ways and requires strength and tenacity. This is exactly the kind of bullshit misconception that the Fifty Shades series is infamous for peddling.

As she fumbles and grows more and more flustered, it occurs to me that I could refine her motor skills with the aid of a riding crop. Adeptly used, it can bring even the most skittish to heel. The errant thought makes me shift in my chair. She peeks up at me and bites down on her full bottom lip. Fuck! How did I not notice how inviting that mouth is?

I wish I could shake Ana by her shoulders and tell her to get the fuck out of there. This dude is not safe.

Literarily speaking, can we talk about how James writes the entire book as Christian’s inner monologue but also occasionally italicizes certain phrases, as if to say, “Look, these are Christian’s thoughts”? The whole book is Christian’s thoughts. I’m confused by this choice. I’m confused by E.L. James’ entire approach to writing, actually.

The interview continues. Ana asks a bunch of smart questions and Christian answers them patronizingly while thinking about fucking her mouth and whipping her ass. What a charmer.

The chapter ends with Christian making a call to some guy named Welch to ask him to run a background check on Ana. Helloooo, stalker.

No surprise here: chapter 1 of Grey was every bit as creepy and worrisome as I expected. And E.L. James’ writing was just as bad as I remembered. Hip hip hooray for the modern literary industry!

Want to keep reading? Go to the next chapter.

Review: Tantus Sport

Kate Sloan

2015-06-06 16.43.23

SheVibe sent me the Tantus Sport months ago, and I’ve been slacking on my reviewer responsibilities. I tried it once and immediately declared it Boring. I began to dread trying it again, because sex toys are supposed to be fun and bad sex toys ruin orgasms.

I even brought the Sport with me to #DildoHoliday, thinking its mere presence in my suitcase would pressure me into giving it another shot. But nope. The only times I even touched it were for photo ops: I took the above photo of the Sport near the firepit of the beach house we were staying in, and I also set it up in my closet for an Instagram shot.

However, when I got back home to Toronto, I decided it was time to put the pedal to the metal and the Sport to my vag. And I’m glad I did, because it’s not nearly as boring as that first testing session had convinced me. (This, fledgling sex toy reviewers, is why you must always test toys at least three times before you review them!)

Certainly, the Sport won’t excite most dildo veterans. I’d guess that everyone who was at #DildoHoliday, with the possible exception of Reenie, would find the Sport too small to be satisfying. But that’s part of what makes it a worthwhile addition to Tantus’ catalogue. I’ve been complaining for years about the lack of good small dildos on the market; the Sport is the kind of dildo that me-from-two-years-ago would have loved.

The Sport’s ball-shaped head is 1.25″ across at its widest point, making the rest of the shaft significantly smaller than that. Because vaginas are muscular and snap back into shape rather than gaping like an open pit, dildos with a big head and a smaller shaft tend to stimulate the G-spot pretty effectively, even for folks who like their dildos huge.

True, as a vagina gets turned on and swells in arousal, it may start to crave something bigger, firmer, or both of the above. That’s definitely true for me when I’m using the Sport: it’s more flexible than my G-spot prefers, and seems to lose its efficacy as my arousal mounts. But as a G-spot warm-up toy, or even a straight-up G-spot toy for folks who like their toys on the smaller end of the spectrum, the Sport performs very well.

I still maintain that the Slow Drive is my favorite of Tantus’ smaller offerings. Its finger-shaped head seems to stroke my G-spot more deliberately than the Sport’s round one. The Slow Drive’s thinner head also enables it to get all up in my A-spot without angering my cervix; this is especially true of the Slow Drive Long.

But if you know your G-spot digs round heads, and you prefer your dildos smallish, I think the Sport will be just your cup of tea.

Thank you, SheVibe!

Three Cheers for Foreskins!: Tantus’ New Uncut Dildos

Kate Sloan

My Twitter stream is always full of sex toy photos, so you’d think I’d be desensitized to them – but when I saw the pictures of Tantus’ new Uncut dildos, I actually moaned out loud.

Foreskins are my jam, dude. I would never kick a guy out of bed for being circumcised – it’s not his fault, after all, and penises are wonderful regardless of their accoutrements – but if I’m honest with myself, I’d rather fuck dudes who are intact. Visually and tactilely, for me, foreskins are where it’s at.

So, yeah, I’m pretty damn excited about Tantus’ new offerings: the medium-sized Uncut 1 and mega-sized Uncut 2.

They’re both made of Tantus’ exquisite dual-density silicone, which pairs with the dildos’ realistic appearance to create a truly lifelike experience. They come in three different (beautiful) skin tones. Oh, Tantus. You sure know how to spoil us.

Mainly what excites me about these toys is that they could help to normalize – and eroticize – intact penises. In North America, it’s heartbreakingly common for uncircumcised guys to feel insecure about what makes them different, even though their anatomy is, of course, totally natural. Just as I perk up a little when I see chubby ladies rocking their sexy-ass curves, I hope that uncut guys will see these dildos and feel terrific about their package!

The future is here, folks: sex toys exist which represent real, diverse bodies. What other kinds of sex toys would you like to see in the future?

(This post wasn’t sponsored. I really am that enthusiastic about foreskins.)

2 Health Apps That Legitimately Make Life Lovelier

Kate Sloan

I am a Problem Sleeper. I frequently have trouble falling asleep until hours after I should, and then inevitably I sleep way past the time I’m supposed to get up. It’s a quality of mine that’s annoyed parents, teachers, and sleepover hosts, but mostly, it annoys me.

I’ve sought all sorts of help for it – most notably, getting a special lamp for sufferers of Seasonal Affective Disorder (which I also have) and using it for 10 to 15 minutes in the morning when I need some bright light to smack me awake. (It really does help!)

However, there’s another technological marvel that’s been helping with my sleep issues lately, and it – like most of my life – relies on my phone. Oh, iPhone, what would I do without you?!

The wonder of wonders I’m speaking of is the Sleep Cycle app. This post isn’t sponsored in any way; as any IRL friend of mine will tell you, I rave about this app because I really do love it.

Here’s the dealio: at night, when you plug in your phone to charge, you set the alarm in Sleep Cycle and then put the phone face-down on the bed. (I usually put mine above my head and slightly to the left of where I sleep, so I won’t knock it onto the floor if I toss and turn.) The app uses your phone’s built-in motion sensor to track your movements through the night, and – using some kind of high-tech magic I don’t understand – tracks where you are in your sleep cycle at any given time.

It then uses this information to wake you up only at the lightest point of your cycle, so that you’ll feel alert and rested when you wake, instead of groggy and disoriented. Whatever time you set on your alarm, the app will wake you up at your lightest moment of sleep in the half-hour before that time – so you’ll be extra-awake but still on time for whatever you’ve got scheduled that morning.

The wake-up sounds are gentle and gradual, so you never feel blasted awake. You can also set some soothing sounds to play while you fall asleep; I like to listen to rain. Or sometimes I open up the Spotify app and play the Jazz For Sleep playlist. Ah, bliss!

Sleep Cycle also appeals to my inner geek by collecting and displaying statistics (fuck yes!) on how long you sleep and how well you sleep. You can see all the hills and valleys of your restfulness through the night, and the app even keeps track of how many steps you took each day so you can check if there’s any correlation between physical activity and sound sleep. There’s also a place to keep notes, if, say, you want to keep track of how a certain medication, caffeine drink, or exercise regime is affecting your sleep.

This app has genuinely revolutionized my life in that I almost never feel groggy when I get up anymore, even if I went to bed later than I should’ve. Sure, I’ll get sleepy later in the day if I didn’t get enough Z’s, but it’s no longer a struggle to get going in the morning. And that is a damn blessing.

The same company also makes an app called Power Nap which uses the same basic mechanic but is made for naps rather than night-long sleeps. You have the option of three different nap lengths, depending on how much time you have or how deeply you want to nap. You tuck the phone in your pocket (or, if you’re me, in your bra) and it tracks your movements and wakes you up gently when you’re sleeping lightly. This app has saved my ass so many times when I needed a mid-day power-up but didn’t want to risk the grogginess that happens when you nap for too long.

While not strictly related to sex, I think we can all agree that your level of restedness affects not only your sex life but also how you feel about yourself and your life. This blog has basically expanded to cover not only “sex” but “anything and everything that impacts sex,” and lemme tell ya: when I haven’t slept well, any sex I have (even with myself) is gonna suck. So, thank heavens for Sleep Cycle!

Do you use any health apps that rock your world? Do you have sleep struggles comme moi?

Feminist Porn Week Diary, Part 3: Fuck Dolls, Phoenixes, & Accountability

Kate Sloan

On Thursday April 16th I went to the Public.Provocative.Porn screening at the Bloor cinema. Good For Her hosts this event each year as an accompaniment to the Feminist Porn Awards: it’s an opportunity for attendees to see a broad sampling of the nominated porn films before the awards ceremony.

I crowded into the theatre with a tiny cup of wine and some peanut M&Ms from the Dollarama next door and settled in to watch the 14 (!) different porn shorts on the program. There was a lot to talk about in those clips but here are some personal highlights:

• Last year’s Heartthrob of the Year, Zahra Stardust (a.k.a. the world’s cutest Australian femme princess), screened her film “Fuck Dolls,” in which she and Lexi Laphor writhe around on the girliest bed of all time, fucking with Barbies. By which I mean both “making Barbies fuck each other” and “using Barbies as sex toys.” Zahra wears silver glittery thigh-high boots, there’s a pink sheath over her Hitachi, and the whole film is chock full of cute girly underwear. I turned to my friend and said, “This is the femmiest thing I’ve ever seen in my LIFE!” and she replied, “I know! This is my dream!!”
• Tobi Hill-Meyer’s film “Bound By Borders” is a “docu-porn” in which she and her long-distance partner intermittently have sex and discuss the injustice of their situation: immigration laws, marriage laws, discrimination against poly relationships, etc. We got only a brief taste of the film at the screening but it was enough to leave me and my friend crying quietly into our sleeves. I’d love to see more of this blend of real-world unsexy emotions with sex in the porn of the future.
• Skyler Braeden Fox made his film “Hello Titty” as a goodbye to his breasts before getting top surgery. What we saw was trippy as fuck and included my favorite on-screen domme, Sadie Lune, being delightfully weird and capping off the scene with a lactation money shot. Yes, you read that right.
• I was excited to finally get to see a clip from Shine Louise Houston’s side project Heavenly Spire, after hearing her mention it at the Feminist Porn Conference two years ago and being immediately intrigued. It’s a porn series that celebrates masculinity on all sorts of different bodies. The clip we saw was a kinky tryst between two cis guys, and it was hot as fuuuuck.

After the screening, there was a brief Q&A with some of the filmmakers and performers. It was cool to see so much local Toronto talent on that stage, including my buddies at Spit!

The next night, Friday April 17th, was the centrepiece of the whole week: the Feminist Porn Awards gala! I spent a couple hours getting thoroughly dolled up (outfit details in a minute) and then rode the subway to the Capitol Event Theatre. (Taking public transit while in full formalwear is always a laugh and a half, lemme tell ya.)

I arrived during the pre-show cocktail hour for VIPs and nominees (and media folks comme moi), so I spent some time milling around the bar sipping white wine and chatting with various porno folks. I am super awkward and the idea of approaching my favorite pornographers to compliment their work is utterly terror-inducing, but I managed it a couple times with the help of alcohol. Hallelujah!

As per usual, the event was emcee’d by Ryan G. Hinds and Lex Vaughn. Some of the presenters were folks I know, like Sophie Delancey and Sam Leigh from Tell Me Something Good, and fellow sex bloggers Lorax of Sex and Kara Sutra. The acoustics in the theatre unfortunately made it really hard to hear what people were saying, but, y’know… they looked fantastic.

CoCo La Creme did some burlesque for us, and was ravishing as always. Her act involved a gas can and a handful of baby oil. The crowd was flabbergasted in the best possible way.

Morgana Muses won the Heartthrob of the Year award, which, hell yeah. She got involved in porn after leaving her marriage in her mid-40s, and the film for which she was nominated this year showed her suspended in gorgeous rope bondage, dressed as a stunning phoenix, symbolizing her “rebirth from the ashes” of her old life. I watched the scene in awe and it is a perfect example of how so much eclectic, emotional, life-affirming stuff shows up under the umbrella of feminist porn. I’ve never walked away from a mainstream porn scene feeling profoundly affected or inspired to change my whole life around, but feminist porn has this effect on me regularly. Amazing.

I was also thrilled about Spit winning an honorable mention award. They’re still a very new company but are deadset on proving they earned this honor and having even better stuff to show off next year, and I totally believe they can do it!

There was some controversy surrounding the FPAs this year, which unfortunately the hosts opted to make light of instead of addressing in any real way. Tobi Hill-Meyer’s acceptance speech on behalf of Courtney Trouble touched on these issues in a tactful and respectful manner; I’m glad someone said something about it (thank you, Tobi) and I sincerely hope the FPAs will address some of the community’s concerns by next year.

Before I sign off this series, some quick outfit pictures!

For the Thursday night screening, I kept things casual and wore a lilac tank top tucked into a black bandage skirt, with a black leather jacket and harness boots. My lips were also painted deep purple, because the feminist porn crowd is a community that can truly appreciate a gothy lip, methinks.

For the awards gala, I wore a strapless black tulle dress that I’d scored at Value Village for $10 (#blessed) with red T-strap heels and a little red bag, both also thrifted. I did a red lip with NARS Cruella and a L’Oreal glossy stain, and felt preeeeetty babely.

Well, that’s my whole Feminist Porn Week wrap-up! (Read the two previous parts here and here.) How did your week go?