A few words about "ass".

Let’s talk a little about “ass.” Not the figurative kind you chase, or get a piece of, but the word itself; that oft-used and much-maligned appellation for the human hind end.  

I have a rather extensive menagerie of pet peeves where erotic fiction is concerned, and almost all of them have been piqued at one time or another by something I’ve come across in the work of otherwise gifted—even brilliant—writers. Of all the books I’ve encountered, either as a reviewer or beta reader, perhaps the most persistent and annoying flaw is a dearth of imaginative vocabulary, coupled with the consistent overuse of a few common words. In my own torturously slow writing and self-editing process, I spend a lot more time than I care to admit simply pouring over reference books, dictionaries and thesauruses, ever in search of just the right synonym. Admittedly, I’m a stickler for precise meanings, and a sucker for euphonious wordplay, and the one thing I cannot stand is carelessness with regard to word choices.

Beyond precise definition, the use of any word is dictated to some extent by context and the demands of authenticity. A few months ago, I read a short erotic-fantasy novel in which the author described a solemn religious ritual that involved female nudity and intercourse. After describing this colorful rite in lyrical, evocative, even reverent language, the author came to the point in the story where the young women removed their robes, and offhandedly spoiled the whole effect that had been so carefully established by referring to the girls’ “naked asses.” The use of this one word pulled me out of the narrative matrix, and dissolved the fabric of illusion the author had woven with such skill up to that point.  More recently, I was beta-reading a short story that included a fantasy sequence set in the American Civil War period of the 1860s; a “respectable” young woman is ravished by a cavalry officer. At one point, in telling us how the officer ripped her clothes, the young lady says something to the effect that he had “exposed her ass for all to see.” Problem is, if you know anything about “respectable” women in the 19^th century, this kind of vulgarity sounds phony.

Now, in those same books, the word “ass” is used again, but much more appropriately. In the erotic-fantasy novel, the word comes from the drunken mouth of a smelly pig farmer accosting a woman of supposed low repute in a dark alley. Here it sounds just right, and perfectly at home. In the short story, the young woman who fantasized about being ravished back in the 1860s, describes how she masturbates to that same fantasy in the present time, where the word “ass” is perfectly authentic.  

I decided to do a cursory search for synonyms for ass, and here’s what I’ve come up with so far;

Ass: arse (Ant); arsch (Ger); backside; badonkadonk (Slang); behind; bottom; bum (Br); buns; buttocks; butt; culo (Sp); derrière; flanks; fundament; Gluteus Maximus; haunches; hind end; rear end; rump; seat; tuckus (or tuchis) (Yiddish); toosh; tush; tushy . . .

All this has me thinking. The great American industrialist Henry J. Kaiser had a motto, “see a need; fill a need,” and I’ve noticed a need in the community of erotic writers. We need our own specialized thesaurus! That’s why I’m starting a new page on this site, which, I hope, will eventually form the basis for a reference book; The Erotic Writer’s Thesaurus. I would like to invite anyone who visits this site to offer ideas for additional entries and words. The list will expand as I have time to update it, and, let’s hope, become increasingly more useful.  Who out there knows some more words for “ass”? Comment to this post, or e-mail me at taldonshaw@gmail.com. Include the word “thesaurus” in the subject line.

 

PS; don't you just LOVE the word "badonkadonk"???? LOL

Reviews of Big Ed Magusson's "The Ugly One," "Irie No Kabutsu," "Unexpected Sights"

The erotic fiction of Big Ed Magusson is well worth a look. His website and blog, Big Ed's Place (see links page) is one of the most interesting and consistently entertaining adult sites on the web, and he has made a number of his stories available for free there. Here are three recent reviews to pique your curiosity and whet your appetite. As always, enjoy!

TAS


The Ugly One


On the surface, Big Ed Magusson's The Ugly One is a well-written, competently crafted, if somewhat facile tale of self-discovery; an agreeably conventional story populated with nice, agreeable characters, in which things tend to work out well without a whole lot of hassle. There are no surprising plot twists or striking dramatic turns; no urgent life-or-death conflicts to inspire edge-of-the-seat angst or compulsive page-turning. Motivations are logical and realistic; characters behave the way we expect, and one event follows unremarkably on another with near-mechanical predictability. Ultimately, everything is just a bit too prim and proper.

And yet, this story affected me on a profoundly personal level. I recognize much of myself in Magusson's main character/narrator. John, the eponymous ugly one, has a great deal to overcome in a society that values youth and beauty above brains and character. His insecurities and self-doubt are those of everyman--every honest man, at least; his own excruciating, inescapable self-awareness, his awkwardness and uncertainty where women are concerned, all magnified exponentially by his many physical shortcomings. The author captures these qualities with rare compassion and puissance. In fact, this is possibly one of the most authentic character studies I have ever read, certainly in a work of erotic fiction.

I also appreciate Magusson's honest, deeply sympathetic portrayal of the courtesans in this story. Eschewing the lazy path of exploitation or high-moral condescension, he shows us real working women without resorting to the prurient sensationalism or breathless nudge-nudge-wink-wink flippancy of so many stories about prostitutes with their proverbial hearts of gold. There are no whores here, but fully actualized, independent, strong, smart, three-dimensional women; skilled and imaginative beyond the purely clinical aspects of sex; experienced and wise, as insightful as the most perceptive therapists; possessing abundant gifts for empathy and an extraordinary aptitude for healing. How many guys would kill for advice from life-coaches like these ever-magnificent, always astonishing women? If only reality could work out so well!

 

 

Irie No Kaubutsu

Bondage ritual meets monster-movie matinée in this intriguing short story from Big Ed Magusson. An American graduate student gets more than he expected of both when he accompanies his Japanese fiancé to her home village to meet his future in-laws and learn something of the local customs. I can't give away too much more about Irie No Kaubutsu without dropping a spoiler. Suffice to say, Magusson has drilled deep into the shadowy vaults of the reptilian complex to uncover mysteries of the male Id that most guys would just as soon keep buried. (We do tend to embarrass easily in spite of all our macho posturings.)

Yet, it's hardly a secret. The monsters we imagine may be more real than we care to believe insofar as they reveal something of our darkest desires and fantasies. From King Kong making off with a scantily clad Fey Ray (or virtually making out with a topless Jessica Lange in the 1976 Dino De Laurentiis re-make) to the undercurrent of menace in Julia Adams' silent aquatic pas de deux with the gill-man in Creature From the Black Lagoon; to the giant multi-tentacled carnivorous plant ravishing an hysterical Shirley Patterson in The Land Unknown or the Metalunan Mutant making lustful bug-eyes at a helpless Faith Domergue in This Island Earth, the male libido feeds on female fear and vulnerability. And while any imagined consummation may be unspeakably horrific--not to mention physically impossible--ultimately, it's the damsels' distress that turns us on. Hollywood has always understood this. How many B-movie ingénues were cast for the sheer piercing power of their lungs or the core-shattering sexiness of their screams? Like an aspect of the Jungian primal memory, young boys seem to understand instinctively, even before they can articulate the idea, from the day they first begin to taunt the girls with spiders and snakes for no better reason than to hear their shrieks and feel their terror.

Magusson clearly understands this, too. Adventuresome readers will be pleasantly terrified, enlightened and entertained by this unusual, highly imaginative foray into the steamy realm of "tentacle titillation.”

Recommended.

 

 

Unexpected Sights

This collection brings together four short stories about voyeurism, reminiscent of the famous Letters to Penthouse series, though the writing here is more sophisticated, and the descriptions somewhat less explicit. Big Ed Magusson's style is straightforward, confidential, intimate and engaging. Each tale is narrated in a conversational first person, actions observed sometimes rather dispassionately by a different male character, all clear-headed, reasonably freethinking and refreshingly enlightened about sex; all eager to look, none so ungentlemanly as to touch.

We happily share the adventure of a daring teenaged exhibitionist in a Victoria's Secret changing room (A Mall Tale); spy on some naughty neighbors' late night assignation (Babe in the Night); observe all manner of salacious comings and goings through the eyes of a horny night clerk at a local no-tell motel (Sights on the Night Shift) and get a pleasant eyeful of cleavage from a sexy dental hygienist (A Smile on My Face).

There are no cliff-hangers here, no subtle plot twists, no irony; this is light erotic entertainment presented without pretense. Magusson's scenarios, woven from the most ordinary strands of everyday life, are mildly titillating, but the author does not insult our intelligence with the breathless insistence that what is revealed must necessarily turn us on--that it occasionally does comes as a most pleasant surprise.

 

 

Short Fiction Reviews: Elizabeta Brooke; Andre SanThomas; James Wood; Smart Smut

A round-up of "short takes;" reviews of four recent notable works of erotic short fiction from as many masters of the craft, all originally posted on Amazon within the last several months. Enjoy! TAS

Poe by Elizabeta Brooke

This sexy, bleak, beautiful, occasionally disturbing story is well worth the adventuresome reader’s attention. Talented Australian author Elizabeta Brooke invokes for us a gritty, gray world of urban alienation and despair, illuminated with aching lyricism and deep emotional insight.

Ostensibly a male prostitute, Poe is a sensitive, creative soul; a poet, almost preternaturally intuitive. While turning what ought to be an ordinary trick, Poe encounters Kitty, a troubled young woman who may be more than she seems; an innocent victim of multiple personality disorder, or perhaps, something much darker.

“Unexpectedly intrigued, Poe tilted his head, stared through the smeared glass front of the building. This woman child had not the look of a bored housewife on a dare. Nor that of a bride-to-be searching for a Hen’s Night rite of passage. This female had the look of one hoping to divest a troublesome burden.”

Brooke’s characters vividly embody W.B. Yeats’ notion that “sex and death are the only subjects that can interest a serious mind”; Eros and Thanatos; the erotic, creative impulse and the self-destructive death wish, not so different from one another in the final analysis. In Brooke’s vision, we find ourselves at that terrifying nexus of sex and death; flesh and mind, introspection and lust;

“Time lost its hold on him and he became nothing—a shell surrounding the orgasm that searched for a way out—worming through his loins and into the root of his cock where it gripped him like a whirlpool, sucking him in, and yet needing to explode outwards.

Then the grip tightened, the explosion formed, and he put all his force into the last blinding thrust that carried him over the edge, his rigid torso convulsing against the now quiescent body beneath him. Everything pumped out; his juice, his brains, his eyes, his ears, his sound. There was nothing left.”

Most remarkable is the author’s portrayal of her characters’ longing for creative intimacy—an emptiness only a true artist can know—the poignant search for mutual understanding, the melding of inventive minds.

Highly recommended!

 

 

 

Legends of the Realm of Janos by Andre SanThomas

As of this writing there are four full-length novels in Andre SanThomas’ Realm of Janos series; her highly imaginative, consistently rewarding Erotic-High-Fantasy franchise. Well-established fans of the series will find themselves on familiar entertaining turf with this little collection of four short origin stories from the Janosian mythos. Those readers as yet uninitiated into SanThomas’ vibrant world of ritualized domination and submission may find this an engaging introduction.    

Each story or legend elucidates the character of a beautiful, strong, determined woman—soft and graceful on the outside, adamant, smart and resourceful within. The tales are simple and somewhat formulaic, the style akin to familiar bedtime stories or children’s fables, but definitely for adults only.  All of these stories celebrate the beauty and wonder of monogamous belonging. The constant moral; it is in knowing and understanding one’s role that true satisfaction and bliss—the blessings of the gods—are found.

 

 

Shower Time by James Wood

James Wood’s Shower Time is less traditional short story than contemporary erotic vignette; a single, intimately atmospheric scene that unfolds before the mind’s eye like the most carefully executed tracking shot in a small-scale art film.  The setting is quickly, vividly established with deft economy, even as the author manages to keep us guessing about certain details for a while—truly impressive on such a compressed narrative canvas. The use of language is fascinating in itself, varying throughout the scene from delicately artful to unabashedly raw, without ever noticeably “shifting gears” or inducing stylistic vertigo in the reader’s imagination. The wonderfully subtle use of conversational first-person, in which the narrator says “you” even more often than “I,” is a welcome departure from the banal autoerotic amateurism of so much contemporary “smut.”

A superb example of what skilled writers can achieve with flash fiction, Shower Time has the potential to inspire a new movement in Literary Erotica; call it the “quickie,” the “short-short” or the “ultra-mini.” Gathered together, two or three dozen high-quality stories like this might well form an impressive—and best-selling—anthology. In the meantime, this title may be recommended all on its own.

 

Hot Springs by Smart Smut

A masterfully written, beautiful, evocative tale with genuine literary substance, Smart Smut’s Hot Springs is an erotic tour de force. Set in a region so remote as to seem almost magical, a botanist travels with an aged native shaman in search of a rare flower with legendary medicinal properties, and finds more than she could ever have hoped for.   Particularly striking is the manner in which the author infuses the setting itself with vibrant erotic energy. The narrative has a near-cinematic sweep to it, which in no way detracts from the "turn-on" factor; and while the story itself is fairly simple, the telling of it is so colorful, at times so achingly vivid, as to transport us directly into the scene. Readers in search of a good, intelligent sexy tale need look no further.

 

 

Review of TWO Shanna Germain collections

If you don't yet know the work of Shanna Germain, I urge you to dive in and discover as soon as you possibly can! These two reviews were just recently posted on Amazon, and are here presented as a "double feature." Enjoy! (TAS)

The Lure of Dangerous Women

Shanna Germain may well be among the most accomplished, consistently interesting, imaginative and original prose stylists in contemporary American fiction, transcending all considerations of genre. She is probably best known for her erotic short fiction, though much of that impressive oeuvre is scattered here and there throughout a vast uncharted nebula of anthologies and compilations. I first encountered her story Smoke and Ashes in the Susie-Bright-edited collection, Bitten, and was immediately taken with Germain's gifts for atmosphere and pacing; form and proportion; and, not least, her striking command of what screenwriters sometimes call "the slow reveal." All these characteristics are very much on display in The Lure of Dangerous Women, Germain's new and not-to-be-missed collection of seven short stories

This review must necessarily be framed in broad terms, as trying to synopsize any of these stories too closely would be to give away their hidden prizes and spoil the payoffs that make them so compelling in the first place. Suffice to say these are stories to be savored, reflected upon and dreamed about, returned to again and again; and always with that same quickening delight of first discovery. Germain's language is lithe and lyrical, prose ravished by poetry; dark fantasies turned on subtle lathes of light. Rare alchemy indeed; these tales are evocations of the elemental drawn from the most exquisite strata of quantum possibility. The author captures those infinitesimal flashes of human experience--the unconsciously commonplace--drawing out what we know in our bones, yet could never express in anything less than music, at least until now.

Ms. Germain is fearless in exploring the shadowy erotic impulses at the heart of some of our most chastely cherished legends (as in Trill, the story that opens the collection). She does not blink when the disturbing logic of her premise is carried out to its inevitable, sometimes horrific conclusion (Animal Instincts, Trill, Seed). She can, with seeming effortlessness, conjure up new cultures and civilizations as with the alien matriarchy of Seed—a strange through-the-looking-glass reflection of our own mores and assumptions about propriety—or the Old-West inflected wilderness of One Woman Town, which seems to occupy the frontier between the epic wastelands of Stephen King's The Gunslinger, and the wind-swept post-apocalyptic ruins of William Miller's A Canticle for Liebowitz.

Critics more jaded than I might complain that there's nothing particularly revolutionary about this bending of myth and folklore through the well-worn prism of Jungian analysis. "Hasn't this sort of thing been done to death?" they may sniff. To which I would reply most emphatically, "not quite like this; seldom with this level of originality, and certainly never so beautifully or with such purely entertaining results."

Few writers employ the first person with such unassuming subtlety. Still fewer so easily break out of established genre patterns to create settings and characters with such consummate economy and soul-searing truth. Germain invites her readers to use their own imaginations in concert with hers. She does not assault our senses or insult our intelligence with bald declarative sentences or awkward backstory digressions. Her sense of timing is uncanny; the unhurried, almost seductive unfolding of plot; the artfully controlled "unwrapping" of essential detail. The stories take shape before our eyes as if viewed from over the shoulder of a master artist at work on a drawing; a single boldly sketched line is all it takes to define a whole new world; a few more delicate strokes of the pencil, a hint of shading, bring that world and its remarkable inhabitants to unforgettable life. We may, perhaps, be left guessing, pleasantly, at the end, having been given only enough information as our imaginations require to soar.

The Lure of Dangerous Women is recommended without reservation.

 

 

 

Beneath Sea and Sky

While those of us who believe in erotica as a serious literary endeavor may never fully succeed in winning over the skeptics; we might go a long way to further our cause by gifting them all copies of Shanna Germain’s Beneath Sea and Sky. This collection of six short stories is a feast of sheer sensuous delight, as cleverly conceived and beautifully written as anything currently to be found in contemporary adult fiction.

Though, perhaps, not originally intended as such, Beneath Sea and Sky makes a satisfying companion and compliment to Ms. Germain’s superb recent collection, The Lure of Dangerous Women. The two collections share many of the same broad themes, stylized genre-riffs, lush atmosphere and vibrant moods, and while the stories in Lure are not ‘erotica’ per se, there is a strong, pulsing undercurrent of eroticism in many of them. That same irresistible rhythm—albeit seldom overly explicit or gratuitous—beats much closer to the surface in Beneath Sea and Sky. Readers who relished the sheer virtuosity of Lure (as I did) will not be disappointed; those in search of something more overtly sexy will be astonished and most delectably seduced.

Ms. Germain is as persuasively adept at sci-fi and paranormal fantasy as she is with more poetically-tinged magical realism and mainstream narratives; her settings, often mysterious, vaguely alien, yet sometimes frighteningly familiar as if viewed through weirdly distorted mirrors, turning taboo on its head and trite assumption on its heels. She takes infectious delight in probing the darker erogenous recesses of familiar legends and fairytales. Skin Deep, her lyrical reimagining of Beauty and the Beast owes more to Cocteau and A.N. Roquelaure than Disney, while remaining wholly the author’s own; and in The Princess of Silk and Pain an oft-told bedtime story is given a decidedly grownup BDSM twist.

How, we wonder, can a writer so easily, so believably occupy her characters’ spaces—inner as well as outer?  How is she able to get into their heads so completely, so convincingly? And there are so many very different heads; a besotted gay man in the title story, an unwillingly sheltered noblewoman in The Princess of Silk and Pain, a lonely pastry chef in Devil’s Food, a disillusioned housewife in Hands of Time.

It is, perhaps, Germain’s unfailing sense of wonder that makes these stories so compelling. This is not a naïve or child-like wonder; nor jaded, synthesized sentimentality, the facile façade of lost innocence; but, rather, the inextinguishable joy of discovery; the sublimity of the ever-new. As the narrator of the title story tells us:

“What is there to like about Skye?  . . . I’d say it’s his idealism, his belief that anything’s out there if you just have the right equipment. But I’m not sure he actually believes that, so perhaps, what’s attractive about him is really his belief in his belief. Because if he believes, even without proof, then maybe, just maybe, there really is something out there. Something unnamable and unknowable. Something wonderful and still undiscovered , tucked into that unknown place that lies between sea and sky.” 

Shanna Germain’s Beneath Sea and Sky is highly recommended.

 

Terrance Aldon Shaw (TAS)

The Sweet Guy Tells All

The Sweet Guy Tells All

I’m sick of being the Sweet Guy. You know the guy I’m talking about. In every cheap romance novel there’s the Heroine, the Hero, and, among other lesser players, the Sweet Guy. The formula hardly ever changes; he’s always written as the sensitive male friend—not gay but might as well be—the ever-present shoulder to cry on, the one the Heroine always turns to when the Hero is being an asshole, the one she feels comfortable with sharing her feelings and deepest secrets, the one she always hugs while saying something like “Oh, you’re sooooo sweet. . .” before she goes off and porks the Hero.

I am sooooo tired of being that guy . . . and yet, women insist on telling me their stories. . .

Will the sweet guy finally get lucky? Or will his life continue to imitate art?

I wrote The Sweet Guy Tells All very quickly in the summer of 2004. Back then, I dreamed of seeing one of my stories in the pages of Playboy, which at the time was one of the best vehicles for unknown writers trying to break into the big time. The magazine famously championed a brand of lyrical, edgy, male-centric fiction in which mysterious women and poetically choreographed fist fights were de rigeuer. At a bit under 5,000 words, my story was formatted according to the magazine's submission guidelines, and sent off to Chicago with high hopes and a self-addressed stamped envelope just in case.

Of course, the typescript came back a few weeks later under cover of the standard rejection form. But, to my great surprise, one of the editors at the magazine had taken the time to scribble out a friendly note in the margain. Seems they very much enjoyed my story--thought it was pretty good, in fact; funny and well crafted. The problem from their point of view, so the helpful editor explained, was this: my male character--the Sweet Guy of the title--was too weak. No story gets into Playboy unless the main male charachter is "stronger" than the main female character. This is an immutable principal of Playboy fiction, and I was not the first writer to have a story rejected for violating the rule. No less a figure than Harlan Ellison once notably complained about having one of his best short pieces rejected for this very same reason.

The ultimate upshot of this rejection was . . . encouragement! My immediate goal had been to get published; but, I realized, I had achieved my ultimate goal, which was to write a good, entertaining, funny erotic story that readers could connect with. I never revised or resubmitted the piece; never succombed to the temptation to change the characters or their story simply to see it in print. I finally published it as a Kindle book earlier this year, complete with a beautiful blinged-out cover designed by Andre SanThomas and Sharazade.

The Sweet Guy Tells All is free on Amazon Kindle for four days, from Friday August 31 through Monday, September 3. Check it out and see what you think.

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Review of James Wood's "The Doctrine of Venus"

Much of contemporary literary erotica defies easy categorization. Beyond the headaches of harried bookstore managers, this vast perplexity of unsorted subgenres, crossover hybrids, boutique flavors, designer titillations and kink-specific niches; all loosely—often lazily—clustered under a single all-encompassing rubric, seems to be perpetually expanding like the Universe itself. For potential readers, trying to find something new in the erotica section can easily become an exercise in futility leading to the very edge of mania; less rewarding—but no less tedious—than the search for a new planet; more often akin to shopping for toothpaste or shampoo with their myriad variations, targeting every conceivable point along the spectrum of taste and turn-on. How does one go about making sense of it all?

And who, for that matter, will comprise the “market segment” for this unusual little book? James Wood’s The Doctrine of Venus won’t be for everybody; but once found by its own small band of “proper observers,” may well assume the cachet of a cult classic, inspire costume parties and role-playing games, dedicated on-line chat rooms and secret societies. Simply enough, the author pretends to have unearthed a scandalous handbook from the Edwardian era (roughly 1901-1914); a manual or ‘vade mecum’ detailing the practice, style and manner of “civilized” bondage and submission, copiously illustrated with “racy” vintage glass-plate photographs. What readers will find here is a ‘facsimile’ of this mysterious tome, said to have languished for years in the restricted section of a large public library somewhere in North America. Brief narrative sections set in the present day serve as bookends for the manual, and provide context.  

A neat idea to be sure, even if not, strictly speaking, a wholly original one.  Erotic historical fiction is hardly a new phenomenon; there have already been quite a few works of period-homage, contemporary fiction posing as long-lost literature; intimate pseudo-biographies revealing the supposed hidden sex lives of great and famous figures of the past, from the imaginary memoirs of body slaves in ancient Rome to diaries of royal courtesans who never were; Victorian-era confessions of guilty pleasure, or ersatz first-hand accounts of life on the down-low in Gilded-Age Boston. 

Still, suppose someone was to toss a copy of John Norman’s Imaginative Sex into a time machine and send it back to 1907. What would the most daring souls of the post-Victorian period make of Norman’s infamous 1974 BDSM manual? How would they re-interpret it, taking pains to maintain that all-important veneer of public respectability while employing the language of their own reticent times; flowery, prettified—occasionally stilted—unfailingly polite, freighted with euphemism?

The Doctrine of Venus makes for an easily digestible primer to Wood’s contemporary stories of bondage and submission; Taking Jennifer, Sharing Lucy, and Amy’s Choice. Those already familiar with this fine body of work will recognize the author’s style of nostalgic reverence; the longing for an imagined more elegant past, where elaborate language masks society’s rigid, often cruel moral dichotomies. Wasn’t being “naughty” more exciting—more fun—in a world that painted its mores in the starkest blacks and whites? When taboo really was taboo, and quite literally unspeakable? When the possibility of getting caught came with real-life consequences, scandal and ruin?  

On the downside, taken all at once, the manual section can make for some rather dry reading. The book as a whole might have been more interesting had the author expanded the contemporary narrative portions, interspersing them with excerpts from the vade mecum, the better to delve into his characters’ backstories and relationships, showing how each of them found out about the old book, and how reading it affected and changed them in different ways.

And yet, Wood’s concept works because it connects with the part of our imaginations that can’t resist the urge to wonder “what if?” While, alas, according to Snopes, the oft-repeated story about the Vatican Library’s massive porn collection is really just another urban legend—less embarrassment of riches than simple embarrassment—one can’t help but speculate about some of the possible undiscovered erotic gems languishing deep in the stacks of many a restricted section throughout the world. Perhaps there is a book very much like The Doctrine of Venus reposing silently beneath the dust moats, waiting to be rediscovered and brought into the light of a more liberated, albeit less gracious age.  

 

 

 

TAS

 

Review of Susie Bright's "Sexwise"

Dipping into Susie Bright’s Sexwise is like discovering a weird and wonderful time capsule chockfull of 1990s erotic pop culture memorabilia. Who under thirty even remembers the highbrow porno flicks of Andrew Blake or the faux-rotic novels of Nicholson Baker? Who was there—“no shit!”—to catch the hype and largely cooked-up kerfuffle over Madonna’s splashy coffee table book, appropriately enough entitled Sex? Who ever included Stephen King’s Gerald’s Game on their list of top-ten all-time favorite novels? (Not Susie Bright--that's for sure!) Yet, while many of the books, films and personalities featured in these short reviews, essays and interviews have long since faded to footnotes, the insights they inspired remain powerfully relevant today.

Bright’s style is always hip and engaging, often very personal; trenchant, thoughtful, and unapologetically political. She has an endearingly snarky way of cutting through the thickest piles of elitist BS to uncover truths the rightwing neo-puritans and their unwitting enablers on the “sex-negative” left still don’t want you to know. (Her scorching takedown of Catherine McKinnon has rightly been hailed as a classic of sex-positive feminist prose, and is alone worth the price of this book.) Then too, it’s interesting to see how many of her ideas—one-time potshots from across the barricades—have become part of the erotic-intellectual mainstream in the intervening decades, notwithstanding the country’s ever-more dangerous list to the right, and the concomitant resurgence of the most virulently toxic patriarchal reactionary tendencies in the body politic—a.k.a. “The War on Women.” What Bright had to say in the original introduction to Sexwise may be even more puissant today than it was back in 1995:  

 “I wonder how dedicated the oldest ruling class (and their heirs) will be to enforcing sexual silence. History, unfortunately, has not been a series of triumphs for ever-growing enlightenment. Sexual bigotry is still very much a religion, and the extent to which zealots and defenders of the faith will fight for their prejudices is always mind-boggling.

Right now, fundamentalists of all persuasions have only been titillated with a glimpse of the largely middle-class erotic renaissance. Yes, I know they’re appalled, but they ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Frankly I’m sure my sex life could be better—so much better than I could possibly imagine—if their hands had never been around my throat.”

The erotic renaissance that Bright describes and celebrates in these pages is a diverse, vibrant, colorful phenomenon; a dream not yet perfectly realized, but well worth imagining. Her fresh, incisive critiques of erotic literature and film are, in themselves, eye-opening experiences; we feel our minds expanding in the most pleasantly liberating ways. Anybody who ever watched a triple-X porno video probably came away convinced that they could make a better one if only given half a chance; but who knew—who ever stopped to think—that what’s missing, most tellingly, in all those films is an honest portrayal of the female orgasm? As Bright relates in her groundbreaking essay Femm-chismo:

“I used to have one impeccable standard for what made an erotic story female-centered; the woman comes. This simple concept is so rare in traditional erotica that it overwhelms every other feminine consideration. Of course, we’ve all read stories where a woman is overwhelmed with the size of her lover’s penis . . . but how many times do you actually get a her-point-of-view orgasm? We read about how he sees her responding to him, but we don’t see inside her explosion . . .”

Damn! Seriously, it all makes so much more sense now; and this is only one of many brilliant observations to be found in Susie Bright’s Sexwise! Highly recommended.

TAS (Terrance Aldon Shaw)