Domme Chronicles: Erotic Tales of Love, Passion and Domination by Sharyn Ferns
There’s some genuinely beautiful prose in this copious collection of D/s flash fiction from Australian author Sharyn Ferns, and the overall quality of the writing is pleasingly consistent throughout. More a gathering of vignettes than formally-structured stories, these pieces have the cursory feel of journal entries or diaristic meditations, a few epigrammatic strokes elucidating the author’s most acute observations of small, seemingly mundane details, and the luminous after-images of fleeting emotions.
I like having you smell me also,
and I know you bring the scent to your nose when you want to feel close and I
feel you breathe in deeply, sucking me into your lungs to bring and keep me
there, touching every cell, unwilling to let the air back out, trying to taste
the scent on your tongue and all the way to the back of your throat and inside
you.
I wonder if you can smell me in
your sleep and in your wakeful moments and when you aren’t paying attention and
when you are and when you see something that makes you think of me and when you
see nothing and are thinking of me.
Have I marked you with my scent
enough so that you just smell me, anyway and always?
So
far, so good. Yet, while downright delightful when imbibed in moderation,
collectively there is a creeping quality of sameness from one section to the
next. The reader may experience a cloying sense of déjà vu when encountering quite literally hundreds of “I do this;
you do that” constructions. Yes, for every action in nature there is an equal
and opposite reaction, but some of these pieces begin to read like a checklist
for an oil change, or a clinician’s lab notes. The novelty of second person point-of-view
wears off very quickly, and should be employed sparingly, if at all. An author
who doesn’t understand this runs the risk of boring her readers or pissing them
off. After I-don’t-know-how-many “I do this; you do that”s I found myself saying
“no, the fuck I don’t!” which, I’m sure, is not the reaction the author
intended to elicit, though, I suppose, anything is better than indifference.
In
a more charitable mood, I would ponder this question; how does an author—any author—create
variety in an erotic narrative? How does one develop the essential literary
element of conflict in portraying a stable power-exchange relationship in which
every action and reaction is, in effect, predetermined? I hope next time out Sharyn Ferns will address
these issues in a wider-arc form, a slightly longer, more traditionally structured
short story or even a novel—preferably in first or third person. She certainly
has the talent and the potential to bring it off beautifully.
Recommended.
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