So, Ruby suggested that I write a post about the world of weird erotica. She’s nice like that. The conversation had been prompted by an article about books with titles such as ‘Sorry I Spoiled Your Orgy’, so I figured that it would at least be an amusing challenge.
It was that ^^ title that I first downloaded, only to discover that it wasn’t erotica at all – rather, it was an anthology of fantastical hallucenogenic short stories involving many automatons and a great deal of bloodshed. It’s interesting enough that I’ll absolutely finish reading when I get chance, but it definitely wasn’t hot (although there was a story involving the main character from the Nick Cave song ‘Stagger Lee’ which was an unexpected pleasure – I’ll take Nick where I can find him, me).
Time to find a properly weird dose of smut.
After trawling the depths of the Kindle store, past such genius titles as ‘Taking My Teddy Bear from Behind‘ and ‘It Mounted, It Thrusted, It Pumped Me Full‘, I finally downloaded the eleven page gem that is ‘Butt-blasted by the Banshee’ by Bytch Williams (who is also responsible for ‘My Lactation Consultant is a Lesbian Werewolf’. Go Bytch).
Can I just make this clear right now – I have no problem with paying a quid for eleven (short) pages erotica. I also have no problem with reading animal-based erotica of the shapeshifter variety (hell, I have ‘In the Velociraptor’s Nest’ on my Kindle. Don’t judge me). And actually, I particularly love short stories that are ridiculous to the nth degree, as long as they’re well written. Unfortunately, ‘Butt-blasted’ is clunky and overly verbose and so far the wrong side of sexy that it’s like absorbing bromide through your eyeballs. And don’t start me on the grammar:
‘Glancing to the side, Ashlyn saw the still-running vibrator there, floating in space. A moment later, Morrigan released her right breast and plucked it from the air.’
Let’s put to one side the fact that our plucky heroine is floating in mid air about to be shagged senseless with her own sex toy by a vengeful fairy. My issue is less about gravitational physics and more about WHAT THE FUCK IS BEING PLUCKED FROM THE AIR? A breast, according to that quote. A singular breast floating merrily in the ether.
I read all eleven pages, because I simply couldn’t not. It was like a car crash on the page but less sexy.
In contrast, I recently re-read the frankly awesome House of Holes by Nicholson Baker. No less bizarre than the banshee-fest, it is a hundred times better written. Full on LCD-style weirdness from start to finish, but a joy to read nonetheless. It is funny, sharp and witty and – for all its insanity – its world building and insane sex scenes are utterly readable. Imagine the Yellow Submarine movie and add loads of shagging.
Any subject matter can make good erotica – even the really weird stuff. But teddy bear dicks aren’t enough to make up for lazy writing.