Depictions of Sex in Literature

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

Two things I wanted to discuss in this thread.

1. Your first encounter with a depiction of sex in a work of literature (how old were you?) and your reaction to it.

2. Thoughts on sex in literature in general.

As for me. . . .

1. It was in the eighth grade, and it was from some lousy fantasy novel. I wasn't shocked, but I was a bit intrigued, especially since I was reading it in school. It wasn't elicit; it wasn't much beyond some kissing, feeling, and then a "they had sex" statement. Still, I thought it was cool. And it wasn't like I was some sheltered youth by then. I had seen plenty of porn, ranging from blurry latte-night Cinemax to a near-disintegrated tape of 80s porn a buddy of mine hid in his closet (this was when you could only get pictures from the internet). Still, there was something different about it being in a book; maybe because it was not a piece written merely to arouse.

After that I started reading Stephen King, and soon became desensitized.

2. Take it or leave it, as far as I'm concerned. It seems like most authors force the scene in there, just to placate their editors or something. Out of all the sex/love scenes I've read, I could probably count on one hand the ones that seemed effective or added to the story. Of course, I don't read romance novels.

It offending me doesn't factor in at all, because it doesn't.

[JBI]

No idea, maybe 4. Though I did not understand it so much until age 6 or 7. That is, I used to have a television that turned pornographic after hours, and got my exposure then, though I never learned to read English until grade 2 or 3.

[OrphanPip]

The Bad Sex award winners are fun reads.

2010 winner:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/nov/30/bad-sex-award

"The wet friction of her, tight around him, the sight of her open, stretched around him, the cleft of her body, it tore a climax out of him with a final lunge. Like a lepidopterist mounting a tough-skinned insect with a too blunt pin he screwed himself into her."

[sixsmith]

I don't think I've read a novelist successfully depict non-pornographic sexual activity. Updike and Lawrence, authors of considerable talent and persistence, failed terribly. I suspect, as Martin Amis has suggested, that this is partly to do with sex being a de-universalising experience.

[Seasider]

I don't think I've read a novelist successfully depict non-pornographic sexual activity. Updike and Lawrence, authors of considerable talent and persistence, failed terribly. I suspect, as Martin Amis has suggested, that this is partly to do with sex being a de-universalising experience.

What are your criteria for the successful depiction of non-pornographic sexual activity? Just asking.

[Lokasenna]

The Bad Sex award winners are fun reads.

2010 winner:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/nov/30/bad-sex-award

"The wet friction of her, tight around him, the sight of her open, stretched around him, the cleft of her body, it tore a climax out of him with a final lunge. Like a lepidopterist mounting a tough-skinned insect with a too blunt pin he screwed himself into her."

Gotta love the Bad Sex Award!

As for the OP, how do you define a sex scene? For example, when I was a around 12 I read, like most people, Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials. For those who haven't read it, I shan't be too explicit, but at the end two of the characters "lose their innocence". Although Pullman describes nothing in detail, it is very obvious from the context of the scene, the nature of the story and the ambiguity of the wording that they have had sex. Now, as an innocent 12 year old, that passed clean over my head, and it was only when I was discussing it with some fellow students in my late teens that the reality of it struck me. So how do we define a sex scene?

In terms of straight, unambiguous sex - I honestly can't remember. I would be probably 13 or 14, and it would probably be either George R. R. Martin or James Herbert. It was titillating, but that's about it. To be honest, I'm fairly non-plussed by sex in fiction - what really has an emotional impact on me is not the physical mechanics of the situation, but the evocation of love and heated passion.

[kiki1982]

I think it is hard to describe. You can overdo it and you can underdo it and it's never right. That said, though, the best descriptions I have encountered were the ones that did not even mention the act, you needed imagination in order to understand. That's probably what made them good :D.

Anyway, I didn't read a lot of sex when I was below 16, before I started to read proper books. After that not for a long time either, but since then the best and most emotional was Victor Hugo's description of Cosette and Marius's wedding night (apparently a bit autobiographic of his own, ah :)) and one by Saramago which is quite graphic, but still good, in The Siege of Lisbon. It's fast, is stop-and-start, it's inconsistent and it's sudden peace afterwards. Isn't that real ;).

Oh, and Cleland's Fanny Hill is very graphic. But I suppose it's made more bearable by the 18th century prose and the existence of fetishes and such. I mean, his description of SPOILERS 'the maden blood' that stuck to her thighs and what not and then them trying to trick a man into believing she is still a virgin (of course paying for that privilege :D) is great, as is that description of 18th century SM SPOILERS OVER are great, but I suppose nicer because it's in such great wordings.

And then I read a very obscene Flemish book (legendary) by Louis Paul Boon called Mieke Maaikes Obscene Jeugd (Mieke Maaike's Obscene Youth) which is the description of the childhood of a girl and how she became a prostitute, I think. Anyway, so it starts with child abuse in school by the school doctor, goes on with child abuse by the neighbour/friend's father ('he took out his thing and played with it'-style) and then ends with being a fully committed prostitute. By moments it is pretty disgusting. I remember a scene where, SPOILERS at a friend's house (the one with the father), they are watching a procession through the open window on the first floor. So the two girls are really leaning forward, but Mieke Maaike (at the age of thirteen or something :eek:) is of course thinking about something else and the friend's father does it with her while she is leaning over to watch and her friend is next to her unwittingly. SPOILERS OVER I read the book twice :p. I don't know, it wan't really good per se, but it was mainly interesting.

[sithkittie]

I think I was probably eleven, reading Stephen King's Gunslinger. It wasn't a sex-scene per say, but I'm think it was post sex. I just remember being confused and grossed out that the guy was fondling his own daughter.

Personally, I don't enjoy pornographic scenes. I haven't read one that either doesn't confuse me or make me picture awkward positions and spend the next half hour trying to figure out how that works (in Mists of Avalon my main thought was "Ow... laying naked on a hay pile... stinky."). Hinted at or briefly mentioned, I'm completely fine with, provided it actually plays a role in the story. I just don't like my stories being interrupted by badly worded porn.

Chretien de Troyes' description of Erec and Enide's "sport" was rather amusing though.

[sixsmith]

What are your criteria for the successful depiction of non-pornographic sexual activity? Just asking.

It has to be good. The writing, that is.

It seems to me that the sui generis nature of sex engenders, amongst other things:

a) overwrought and/or absurd metaphors; and
b) cliche.

For a), see Orphan Pip's example.

For b), see Lawrence below:


She lay quite still, in a sort of sleep, in a sort of dream. Then she quivered as she felt his hand groping softly, yet with queer thwarted clumsiness, among her clothing. Yet the hand knew, too, how to unclothe her where it wanted. He drew down the thin silk sheath, slowly, carefully, right down and over her feet. Then with a quiver of exquisite pleasure he touched the warm soft body, and touched her navel for a moment in a kiss. And he had to come in to her at once, to enter the peace on earth of her soft, quiescent body. It was the moment of pure peace for him, the entry into the body of the woman.


These are but examples, but I believe them to be the rule rather then the exception.

[Drkshadow03]

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[Patrick_Bateman]

Hmm well I suppose it was American Psycho
The depiction in 1984 between Winston and Julia doesn't really count as a graphic or vivd depiction of sex.

[kiki1982]

That is indeed a bit sad... What do you hink of this one (translated Portuguese-Dutch-English) and long (I don't think this is against copyright rules as this translation is not taken from anywhere. Please notify if this is not applicable):


[...] and then a pair of enormous, mighty wings enclosed Maria Sara and Raimundo Silva, pushed them together to one single body, and the kiss began, so different to yesterday's, they were the same and they were different, but if you say that, you might as well say nothing, because no-one knows what a kiss is exactly, maybe it is impossible devouring, maybe a develish communion, maybe the beginning of death. Raimundo Silva did not lead Maria Sara to the bed, nor did she drive him softly, as if distracted, to it, but suddenly they were sitting on the edge of the mattress, wrinkling the white bed cover, then he lay her down and they continued kissing, she put her arms around his neck, his right arm served as support for her head, but the left one seemed to hesitate, as if it didn't know what it had to do, or did know it, but did not dare, as if at the very last moment suddenly a definitive, invisible wall had risen between them, at last the wise hand decided, it caressed Maria Sara's waist and glided over her hip down to the curve of her thigh, where it stayed for a very little while light as a feather and then went up again, slowly, over her body to her breast, the memory of his fingers now recognised the soft fabric of her blouse, which he touched for the first time, the feeling was very quick but was at that same time washed away by the tumultuous acknowledgement that under the trival hand of the man there was now the wonder of a woman's breast. Confused, Raimundo Silva lifted his head, he wanted to look, see, know, have the security that it was his own hand that was lying there, now yes, now the invisible wall collapsed, behind it lay the city of the body, streets and squares, lights, shadows, singing that came from nowhere, the endless row of windows, the endless pilgrimage. Maria Sara put her hand on Raimundo's and he kissed and kissed it, until she took it away with his and her upright, still covered breast offered itself to his kisses. It was her who without haste, enjoying her own movement, unbuttoned her blouse and shoved it aside, under the white lace bra her mat lace skin, the pink areola, the nipple, my God, then Raimundo Silva's hand returned, sweetly, ardently, and with one single resolute gesture he freed her supple full breast. Maria Sara groaned when his mouth sucked eagerly, her whole body quivered, and after that still deeper, as Raimundo Silva's hand had put itself on her lap unexpectedly, in order to continue gliding down already without surprise to her pubis, where it clawed insistently, possessively. They were still dressed, she only with her coat open and her blouse unbottoned, and Raimundo Silva pushed her breast back so tenderly that Maria Sara's surprised eye became wet with tears. [...] Ot of shame or intuition, Maria Sara and Raimundo Silva did not undress totally, they kept their last piece of clothing on and she had not taken off her bra. They were lying under the covers and trembled. He took her hands and kissed them, she did the same, with a undulating gesture they moved towards each other, so close that both their breaths mixed, then their mouths touched each other and the kiss went over into a devouring of lips and tongue while the hands of the one sought the body of the other, pinched, pulled, carressed, then the words came, loose, broken off, panting words, darling, come, how is this possible, I don't know, it had to be, embrace me, come, that age old whispering which tries to speak the unspeakable with these words and others, or even dearer ones, or cruder, or rougher, or more brutal, in the night of time, [...]. Raimundo Silva's inexperienced hand struggled with the fixture of her bra, and Maria Sara freed herself from it with a simple, fast movement of fingers and shoulders, and freed her breasts from their prison, offered them to his eyes, hands and mouth. Then, finally, they undresed totally, the one helped the other or left him to it, Undress me, they said, and in fact they were already naked, and now they could really carress, touch, feel each other, suddenly Raimundo Silva pushed the sheet to the side, there was Maria Sara, her breasts, her stomac, her high pubis, her long thighs, and he, past any shame, totally devoid of all his fears, showed himself in the light, even though it was still so dim, only the white sheet beamed as if it had sucked up all the moonlight, [...], it seemed as if the world outside was waiting for a wonder, but that no-one noticed it when it happened, here, when they really felt each other for the first time, when they groaned together for the first time, when they screamed softly, when all the sluices of the Great Flood opened above the earth and the waters of the earth, and after that, silence, the wide estuary of the Tagus, two bodies which floated side by side, hand in hand, the one said, O, darling, the other, May it never become less than this, and suddenly they became afraid of what they had said and embraced each other, it was dark in the room, Put on the light, she said, I want to know if all this is true.

Ok, there was some quivering, some trembling, but not overdone, and mainly no metaphors (maypoles I have encountered with Fanny Hill :p). Just plain, but sweet, I find.

[keilj]

I don't think I've read a novelist successfully depict non-pornographic sexual activity. Updike and Lawrence, authors of considerable talent and persistence, failed terribly. I suspect, as Martin Amis has suggested, that this is partly to do with sex being a de-universalising experience.

I thought Hemingway did a pretty good job of describing it in a scene in For Whom the Bell Tolls.

I can't think of any other examples where it was done well

[Seasider]

I don't think I've read a novelist successfully depict non-pornographic sexual activity. Updike and Lawrence, authors of considerable talent and persistence, failed terribly. I suspect, as Martin Amis has suggested, that this is partly to do with sex being a de-universalising experience.

I have been trying to understand the meaning of sex being a de- universalising experience.Since the existence of every creature, living or dead, is/was the result of a sexual act, I would have thought that sex was in fact a universalising experience.
Is the writers's desire to communicate his/her characters' sexual experience as particular, because particularly experienced, bound to be a failure? (I admit I haven't read Martin Amis' words of wisdom on the subject.)

We often tease young people in love for imagining that they have invented sex. Perhaps the writers quoted made the same mistake.

[AlfredtheGreat]

What book is that Lawrence excerpt from?

[moonbird]

1. The first time I read about sex in a book was with Bedlam Burning by Geoff Nicholson. I think I was around 12 or 13, and although I'd seen a few vague descritions in PG-13 movies and the occational Stephen King novel, this was the first book I'd read that described it in detail. Basically, the narrator's "girlfriend" (it's a complicated relationship) wants to make the man she loves jelous by having sex with the narrator (he is, of course, oblivious to this), and she loudly shouts out their various sexual acts so her love can hear her.

When I read it I was sort of shocked by the more-than-I-really-need-to-know descriptions, and I felt like after that the book was hard to take seriously. Their sex scenes reappeared countless times throughout the story. Eventually I ended up just skipping over them.

2. I don't disapprove of sex in literature, as long as it's used discreetly. The perfect example is Stephen King. It's not uncommon for him to mention sex in his books, and sometimes he does go into some detail, but it isn't just to "please the editors" or whatever. Sex is an important and very real part of life, and leaving it out of his books would just make them seem corny.

My advice: Use sex in your books if you must, but do everyone a favor and be mature about it.

[illusionary]

1. I am fairly sure it was a book called dairy of a crush; the second one in the series. It was a fade to black scene. I liked it and read it several times over. I was somewhere between 10 and 12.

2. The bottom line is that I enjoy well written works; I see no reason why that should preclude the erotic. I actually just recently bought a book of erotic poems by Goethe, so I am comfortable with it. I find poorly written sex scenes hilarious and the inclusion of them in an otherwise good work distasteful.

[Drkshadow03]

What book is that Lawrence excerpt from?

Lady Chatterly's Lover. Personally I didn't find that example to be particularly bad.

[stlukesguild]

Two things I wanted to discuss in this thread.

1. Your first encounter with a depiction of sex in a work of literature (how old were you?) and your reaction to it.

I was probably in 4th or 5th grade (or thereabout) and the "literature" in question must have been some "dirty" letters or stories in one of my older cousin's porno magazines... which I probably read after undoubtedly ogling the pictures for some long time... but what do you expect? I'm a visual artist. Images grab my attention faster than words.:ihih:

2. Thoughts on sex in literature in general.

I have often repeated Yeat's declaration that "Sex and Death are the only topics worthy of contemplation by the serious mind" (There are numerous variations on the actual quote). In part, I have my tongue firmly in cheek when I repeat this quote... and in part I am deadly earnest.

Obviously I don't think that Yeats intended to suggest that only copulation and the act of dying were worthy subjects for art. Rather, it seems clear that he is simply reiterating the old dichotomy of Eros and Mort. Mort/Death may be seen as involving war, mortality, disease, destruction, collapse, fragility, killing, death itself... as well as questions of what exists beyond death... spirituality. Eros is more than mere fu**ing. It includes fecundity, fertility, birth, growth, love, lust, passion, sex itself, and all that is essentially strives against Mort.

Taking this broader view of sex and death or Eros and Mort I have no problem in suggesting that the majority of all art is indeed an exploration of Sex or Death.

The question at hand, however, involves, presumably, a narrower definition of "sex". My belief mirror that of the great art historian, Sir Kenneth Clark, who in his book, The Nude, wrote:

"The human body is rich in associations, and when it is turned into art these associations are not entirely lost... It is ourselves and arouses memories of all the things we wish to do with ourselves; and first of all we wish to perpetuate ourselves.

This is an aspect of the (nude) that is so obvious that I barely need to dwell on it; and yet some wise men have tried to close their eyes to it. "If the nude," says Professor Alexander, "is so treated that it raises in the spectator ideas or desires appropriate to the material subject, it is false art and bad morals." This high-minded theory is contrary to experience. In the mixture of memories and sensations aroused by Ruben's Andromeda...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5097/5388454343_34df6a3a7f_b.jpg

(or his St. Sebastian for that matter:)

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5055/5389065490_661dfd3ef1_b.jpg

or Renoir's Bathers...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5095/5388453035_ede2e49edd_z.jpg

... are many that are "appropriate to the material subject". And since these words of a famous philosopher are often quoted, it is necessary to labor the obvious and say that no nude, however abstract, should fail to arouse, in the spectator, some vestige of erotic feeling, even though it be only the faintest shadow- and if it does not do so, it is bad art and false morals. The desire to grasp and be united with another human body is so fundamental a part of our nature that our judgment of what is known as "pure form" is inevitably influenced by it... The amount of erotic content a work of art can hold... is very high. The temple sculptures of tenth-century India are an undisguised exaltation of physical desire; yet they are great works of art.

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5171/5388470737_90dedd3fb7_b.jpg

I don't think that we can come up with a clear line of demarcation... a line defining "Art" on this side and 'Pornography" on the other. What is or is not "pornographic" seems dependent upon the audience and not the subject matter... and one might even argue that pornography and art are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

As Sir Kenneth Clark suggests, sexuality is such a fundamental aspect of human existence and so powerfully linked with some of our most intense physical and emotional experiences that to ignore or even banish the portrayal of sex seems itself almost obscene.

Some suggest that the intent between pornography and erotic art is inherently different... but I question this as well. As Kenneth Clark notes, the Indian temple sculptures include unabashed and undisguised exaltation of sex. The same is true of any number of Japanese Ukiyo-e prints... especially of a sub-genre known as the Shunga. The Ukiyo-e prints are virtually a case-study of shifting perspectives... and how it impacts our definition of "art" or "pornography":

The Japanese Ukiyo-e prints were considered at the time of their production a low-class art form in comparison to the high-minded screen paintings. The Ukiyo-e prints focused upon famous scenes around and in Tokyo, images of actors and actresses, images of pretty girls, courtesans, geisha, illustrations of popular fiction, and images of sexual activities. In many ways, the Ukiyo-e prints were an equivalent of the time for our travel postcards, celebrity posters and magazines, pin-ups and centerfolds, comic books, and pornography. None of these genre are immediately thought of by us as being with "high art"... but with the passage of time, as a result of the brilliant originality... the dynamic compositions, the play of pattern and elegant line, the subtle use of colors and layering of inks... the Ukiyo-e print artists have been recognized as some of the greatest masters of Japanese art... to the extent that the names of Hokusai, Hiroshige, Utamaro, etc... are far more recognized than the names of most the "fine art" painters.

Among the Ukiyo-e masters, Utamaro was the master of the human figure. He had one primary subject: women. In many ways he was something of the Degas of Japan. His prints focused upon the intimate lives of women: at home with their children:

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5259/5388525851_2a11ac43d8_z.jpg

doing household chores...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5053/5389132496_ca43726d55_b.jpg

doing their hair...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5054/5388526093_851c8daa8b_b.jpg

at their mirrors...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5177/5389132714_30d046b13d_z.jpg

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5095/5389132764_1aa4168351.jpg

dressing...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5294/5388526275_53b051d1a8_b.jpg

spending time with friends...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5099/5388526389_125e567f1e_z.jpg

gossiping about men... or other women...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5138/5389133054_56d5b0f083_b.jpg

writing love letters...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5132/5389133112_900f6b201b.jpg

or turning out the lights and turning in for the night...

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5214/5389133166_37c3753e11.jpg

Among the intimate subjects Utamaro illustrated, he did not avoid lovemaking. Most of his sexually explicit images were seen as part of an artistic sub-genre known as Shunga. The sexually explicit imagery of the Shunga were intended for people who because of their limited means could not afford to frequent the "pleasure quarters" where the illicit sex trade of a flourishing, rapidly growing, and increasingly liberal Tokyo was centered. Such prints also illustrated racy popular fiction such as one particular satire of a high-ranking government official that resulted in Utamaro's imprisonment.

Utamaro brought an exquisite sensibility to his work... including his Shunga prints. He employed surprising points of view, made dramatic compositional uses of flat areas of color and black, added metallic pigments to the inks creating unique effects, intentionally allowed colors to fade out suggesting atmospheric effects, and drew upon the most sophisticated sense of color, pattern, and elegant line. He also brought a keen eye to his subject matter, capturing subtle gestures and facial expressions. With his Shunga prints he picked up upon the manner in which a woman clutched her lover, the way her toes curled up during lovemaking, the hints at vanity as a woman looks at herself in the mirror while making love, and the swirls and play of fabrics that at once conceal and reveal the naked bodies.

Any number of these elements can be seen here in a pair of less explicit Shunga prints by Utamaro:

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5172/5388526861_cc22bea0e2_z.jpg

http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5052/5388526947_e968377815_b.jpg

Utamaro's intentions were clear not at all different from that of the pin-up artist or the Playboy photographer. On the other hand, his works were the result of a high level of artistry and can be appreciated for formal elements of design, line, point of view, etc... But are we then to assume than no pin-up or Playboy (or other nude photograph intended to arouse) ever achieves high level of artistry?

It would seem to me that ultimately whether something is art is always defined by the audience. The medieval monk laboring away on an illuminated manuscript never thought of himself as an "artist" or what he did as "art". He was merely a dutiful servant attempting to praise God by beautifying a sacred text. The resulting works, however, are "art" because those whose opinions matter... art critics, art historians, museum curators, art collectors, artists, and art lovers... have deemed the work art. Utamaro's Shunga prints, are "art" because for the same reason. It would seem then that the same logic must be applied to pin-ups, nude photography intended to arouse... even porno films. Are not classic pin-ups from the 40s and 50s by "artists" such as Alberto Vargas, Bill Ward, and Gil Elvgren coveted and collected... by museums as well as private collectors? Isn't the same true of pin-up photographs of Betty Grable, Betty Page... and even Dita von Teese? How good or bad such art is may be open to debate no less than how good of bad R.Crumb or Damien Hirst is... but it would seem to me there can be no debate that such imagery is indeed ART.

While I have primarily addressed sexuality in the visual arts, it would seem that sex in literature would be no different. In other words... I'm not certain I could define "pornography" as opposed to literature.... except to suggest that I know it when I see it/read it.

Perhaps it is a simple as sixsmith suggested: "It has to be good"... good art or good writing. And here is where the challenge lies. As Kenneth Clark noted "The desire to grasp and be united with another human body is so fundamental a part of our nature that our judgment of what is known as "pure form" is inevitably influenced by it...". Thus the challenge we face when looking at a nude is to ask ourselves... "Is it good art... or is he or she merely sexually attractive?" That Playboy centerfold immediately strikes me as "beautiful"... but is it the art... what the artist has done with the subject that is beautiful... or is it merely the woman? The same would seem to hold true of the erotic in literature. We are confronted with the question as to whether we are "turned on" (or conversely, "turned off") by the artistry of the writing... or merely by the subject?

[TheChilly]

Two things I wanted to discuss in this thread.

1. Your first encounter with a depiction of sex in a work of literature (how old were you?) and your reaction to it.

2. Thoughts on sex in literature in general.

As for me. . . .

1. It was in the eighth grade, and it was from some lousy fantasy novel. I wasn't shocked, but I was a bit intrigued, especially since I was reading it in school. It wasn't elicit; it wasn't much beyond some kissing, feeling, and then a "they had sex" statement. Still, I thought it was cool. And it wasn't like I was some sheltered youth by then. I had seen plenty of porn, ranging from blurry latte-night Cinemax to a near-disintegrated tape of 80s porn a buddy of mine hid in his closet (this was when you could only get pictures from the internet). Still, there was something different about it being in a book; maybe because it was not a piece written merely to arouse.

After that I started reading Stephen King, and soon became desensitized.

2. Take it or leave it, as far as I'm concerned. It seems like most authors force the scene in there, just to placate their editors or something. Out of all the sex/love scenes I've read, I could probably count on one hand the ones that seemed effective or added to the story. Of course, I don't read romance novels.

It offending me doesn't factor in at all, because it doesn't.

1. My first encounter with sex in literature when I was reading Holly Lisle's "Midnight Rain" when I was in grade school. Looking back, the passages of sexual encounters felt like generic and typical erotica for me. Then again, I could give a rat's *** about erotica in fiction, as long as the writer doesn't go overboard with sexual descriptions.

2. Bleh. That's what I think of sex in literature. Unless it comes from the Marquis De Sade... then there's some substance (but not the kind of comfortable substance, if you know what I mean) to it.

[stlukesguild]

Everything in the world is about sex... except sex. Sex is about power.- Oscar Wilde

[stlukesguild]

"True sexuality in literature... sex as a positive aesthetic
quality... lies not in any scene or subject, nor in the mere
appearance of a 'vulgar' word, but in the consequences on the
page of love well made---made to the medium which is the writer's
own."

-William Gass

[OrphanPip]

Oh good, Stlukes found a reason to show off all his favourite dirty pictures ;).

[AlfredtheGreat]

It's like taking a free Art History class.

[Wilde woman]

1) I don't remember exactly. It was either in an Anne Rice novel or, embarrassingly, in Ken Follett's Pillars of the Earth, which I read for a history class. :ack2: Obviously, my first sex scene didn't leave an impression on me one way or the other, since I don't remember it. I do remember some later sexual scenes in Anne Rice novels which were very disturbing to my teenage mind. In terms of raciness, Twilight has NOTHING on Anne Rice.

2) I like to see the occasional erotic scene in a book because it shows that sex is a natural part of the human experience. And I think it is perfectly normal to live vicariously through a written sex scene, if you identify with the protagonist. As long as writers don't go overuse sex and as long as the sole objective is not to entice their readers to jerk off, I'm okay with the occasional sex scene.

[Mutatis-Mutandis]

It's like taking a free Art History class.

:iagree: And it's definitely a good thing :nod:.

[Lokasenna]

I was probably in 4th or 5th grade (or thereabout) and the "literature" in question must have been some "dirty" letters or stories in one of my older cousin's porno magazines... which I probably read after undoubtedly ogling the pictures for some long time... but what do you expect? I'm a visual artist. Images grab my attention faster than words.:ihih:


Interesting excuse - I haven't tried that one before... :)

[stlukesguild]

Well isn't that why artists went into art in the first place... so that they'd have a legitimate excuse to ogle nekkid women all day?

And just my luck... right as I enter art school, abstraction dominated everything!!!:mad2::ack2::cuss::bawling::cryin: