Good Sex?

Dec. 1st, 2010 10:16 pm
blacklilly: (Ero ero ero)
Whatever happened to the days where I used to be able to discuss books all the time?  I need to get a job in a bookshop again, and move to Texas and live with [livejournal.com profile] jennarose who was always good for book chat.

The Guardian and I may be on the same page with regards to the good sex/bad sex thing.  Of course, they have a huge readership and don't have to resort to trying to goad people on Facebook into taking the time to read what they're saying.  Has anyone else noticed that people just don't READ things anymore?  Emails, notes, blogs etc.  Have you even read this far into my burblings, fair reader??

Last of the 13 hour work days today, as high school has finished until January.  Am deliberating going to find some company at the bar, or staying here and lamenting...my lack of readership????

Seeing as no one is paying attention by the fourth paragraph (and congrats to those who held on this long) I should tell you that I have begun work on a novel which has been floating about my head for a year or so.  Strangely, it is requiring a huge amount of pre-planning, which is not something I've ever really had to do with stories before.  It's closely plotted and I've been using an excellent program called Scrivener to help me structure things out.  Rather than putting things down into notebooks, I'm making notecards on the virtual corkboard.  I can then rearrange them, add sub-categories and name each section.  Each card provides a short synopsis of the scene, which I can then write directly into the program.  Should I need to rearrange the scenes, I can just pull the notecards about and the text will re-organize itself.  I've never been a fan of writing straight into the computer, but so far this thing is so user-intuitive that I'm yet to get frustrated with it.  Anyway, I'm midway through plotting the thing out, and have just reached the "crisis" in the second-act.  Where it goes from here, I'm still trying to work out...  I can also tell you that it is called "The Hanging Forest", until something better comes along.

What I like most about this is that all my thoughts at the moment are taken up with it, which makes the morning train journeys on packed commuter trains all the more bearable.

I was gonna do the Japan Meme, but currently I'm at a loss for over- or under-rated things about Japan.  Except for the men, who are, so far,  totally over-rated.
blacklilly: (Ero ero ero)
Every year the Literary Review runs the "Bad Sex Awards" which decries the worst of sex written in fiction during the year.  

http://www.literaryreview.co.uk/badsex.html

 Seeing as there may well be the need to add some sex into a story I'm currently cobbling together, this got me thinking about what is good or bad sex in fiction. Can there ever be good sex in fiction, or is it bound to make someone somewhere squirm?  Should writers just avoid writing sex?

 This got me thinking that it might be funny to get you all to find a sex scene from a book you've read and add it to this discussion.  Then we can decide if it's bad sex or not.  I offer up two examples of bad sex:

I pressed my lips against the sky, and licked the stars into my mouth. She took my body into hers, and every movement was an incantation. Our breathing was like the whole world chanting prayers. Sweat ran in rivulets to ravines of pleasure. Every moment was a satin skin cascade. Within the velvet cloaks of tenderness, our backs convulsed in quivering heat, pushing heat, pushing muscles to complete what minds begin and bodies always win. I was hers. She was mine. My body was her chariot, and she drove it into the sun. Her body was my river, and I became the sea. And the wailing moan that drove our lips together, at the end, was the world of hope and sorrow that ecstasy wrings from lovers as it floods their souls with bliss. (p400) Shantaram,  Gregory David Roberts


Nominated in the 2004 award. Shantaram was a good book, but the sex was quite ridiculous - licking stars, indeed.  Sounds like something I wrote as a teenager.

 

This one is from the winner of the 2004 Bad Sex Award.  It WILL make you squirm:

Hoyt began moving his lips as if he were trying to suck the ice cream off the top of a cone without using his teeth. She tried to make her lips move in sync with his. The next thing she knew, Hoyt had put his hand sort of under her thigh and hoisted her leg up over his thigh. What was she to do? Was this the point she should say, "Stop!"? No, she shouldn't put it that way. It would be much cooler to say, "No, Hoyt," in an even voice, the way you would talk to a dog that insists on begging at the table.

Slither slither slither slither went the tongue, but the hand that was what she tried to concentrate on, the hand, since it has the entire terrain of her torso to explore and not just the otorhinolaryngological caverns - oh God, it was not just at the border where the flesh of the breast joins the pectoral sheath of the chest - no, the hand was cupping her entire right - Now! She must say "No, Hoyt" and talk to him like a dog. . .

. . . the fingers went under the elastic of the panties moan moan moan moan moan went Hoyt as he slithered slithered slithered slithered and caress caress caress caress went the fingers until they must be only eighths of inches from the border of her public hair - what's that! - Her panties were so wet down. . . there - the fingers had definitely reached the outer stand of the field of pubic hair and would soon plunge into the wet mess that was waiting right. . . there-there- (p368-9)  I am Charlotte Simmons by Tom Wolfe

 

"Hoyt began moving his lips as if he were trying to suck the ice cream off the top of a cone without using his teeth" - I think I may have kissed Hoyt at some point in my life.  "Wet mess"????  This just goes to support my body horror theory I never got to write about at university. I never want to sleep with anyone named Hoyt...or name my dog after him.  Bad dog!

Here's the problem - unlike real life, you never remember the good sex in fiction.  I just looked up the sex in Arundhati Roy's "The God of Small Things" (which I thought was quite nice).  When you read it out of context of the entire story (you only get it on the last few pages) it just reads badly.

So, thoughts and quotations please!

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