Tuesday, November 27, 2007

O glorious pubes, who should win the Bad Sex Award?


What can be more fun than poking at badly written sex scenes? *g* This is why I soooo love the Bad Sex Award, not because it aims to recognize the worst description of sex in literature—and to discourage it (as well they should; bad sex scenes should be ILLEGAL)—but because this is one of those instances where Romance gets to laugh at the face of those “literary” snobs. Ha! Take that, you stupid sex writer wannabes!

One of the lucky contenders this year is Will by Christopher Rush. I swear it has more than enough purple prose to make Fabio’s lance of love to leap around like a shower dropped in an empty bath:


O glorious pubes! The ultimate triangle, whose angles delve to hell but point to paradise. Let me sing the black banner, the blackbird’s wing, the chink, the cleft, the keyhole in the door. The fig, the fanny, the cranny, the quim—I’d come close to it now, this sudden blush, this ancient avenue, the end of all odysseys and epic aim of life, pulling at my prick now, pulling like a lodestone.

Anne Hathaway’s cow-milking fingers, cradling my balls in her almond palm, now took pity on the poor anguished erection, and in the infinite agony of her desire, guided it to the quick of the wound. At the same time I searched wildly with the fingers of my left hand, groping blind as Cyclops, found the pulpy furred wetness, parted the old lips of time and slipped my middle finger into the sancta sanctorum. It welcomed me with soft sucking sounds, syllables older than language, solace lovelier than words.


The fig, the fanny, the cranny, the quim? What, no slippery waterweed? *shock* Gabaldon will have a fit! Oh, well, I was sold at “o glorious pubes.” :P


Her hand opened me. Then her hand became a wing. Then everything about me became a wing, a single wing, and she was the other wing, we were a bird. We were a bird that could sing Mozart... I was sinew, I was a snake, I changed stone to snake in three simple moves, stoke stake snake, then I was a tree whose branches were all budded knots, and what were those felty buds, were they antlers?


Huh? Me thinks—call it grasping at straws, if you will—this is a sex scene??? *verra confused* Erm, Ali Smith thinks it is. I haven’t read Girl Meets Boy; I’m guessing the story is about a girl who meets a dude who’s a shapeshifting bird-like Mozart-fan hippie and they smoke some crappy hash.

Anywho, the Bad Sex Award can’t be complete without some pervy author obsessing about the vajayjay. We’ve already established that no matter what the man’s intentions are, his main goal is always the same: to get between her legs. (C’mon, I DARE you to deny it. *g*) Apparently, the bush on top of it has its own wow-wow-wee effect. Here’s a snippet from Absurdistan by Gary Shteyngart:


Her vagina was all that, as they say in the urban media—a powerful ethnic muscle scented by bitter melon, the breezes of the local sea, and the sweaty needs of a tiny nation trying to breed itself into a future. Was it especially hairy? Good Lord, yes it was. Mountains of kinkiness black as the night above the Serengeti with paprika shoots at the edges—the pubic hair alone must have clocked in at half a kilo...


Was it especially gagging? Good lord, yes it was! Eheh. Probably why, in The Stone Gods, Jeanette Winterson suggests that inter-species illegal sex with a robot—who has a silicon-lined vagina fetish—is the way to go. And she has a point! Look at this quote from Richard Milward’s Apples:


She had on no knickers, and my heart went crash-bang-wallop and my eyes popped out. She hadn’t shaved, and her fanny looked like a tropical fish or a bit of old carpet.

“So, you just gonna sit there?” Abi asked, and I laughed nervously. I was hardening up... but my heart wasn’t into it—her cunt smelt a bit like an armpit, and when I pulled the lips open I knew I’d have to shut them numerous times or else I’ll die of Aids or I’d fall into it.


Dude, honestly, WTF? Heaven help the stupid fuck who might think my fanny smells like an armpit and looks like a tropical fish or a bit of old carpet. Swear to Xenu, I’d shoot him in the head and then plunge a dagger in his heart to make sure he’s fucking DEAD. Hi-yah! *karate chop-chop*

Whatever. Fucker. :@ The winner will be announced today where passages from the books will be read aloud by actresses, hopefully with “a commotion of grunts and squeaks, flashing unconnected images and explosions of a million little particles.”**

**From last year’s winner, Twenty Something by Iain Hollingshead.

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24 comment(s):

Anonymous Mallie said...

O.o

*blinks*

Nope. they're still there, and they're still v. bad.

*blinks again*

Nope. That didn't do the trick.

Yeesh, why even bother writing a sex scene if it isn't going to be hot. Piece of old carpet, seriously wtf?!

11/27/2007 09:55:00 AM  

Blogger Jordis Juice said...

I don't know if I should laugh or cry. These are HORRIBLE.

I've always found sex scenes to be unsatisfactory. I mean it's true that there are romance novels out there that have very hot sex scenes but even they can't convey what one REALLY feels during sex.

11/27/2007 12:24:00 PM  

Anonymous Anonymous said...

LOL! The first one should win, Will by Christopher Rush. But the last one, with tropical fish and old carpet is the funnies!

11/27/2007 12:55:00 PM  

Anonymous karamia said...

"Parted the old lips of time"? Old Carpet? What the hell are these people describing? I think all these entries should win for something, they had me rolling. If you find yourself about to do someone that smells like an armpit, maybe you're to drunk to F--- and you should go to sleep. at home, alone. LOL

11/27/2007 01:21:00 PM  

Anonymous Archiebald said...

Writing about sex is surprisingly difficult to do. Probably why there is no shortage of contestants for the prize.

We all need some "grunts and squeaks" and "cow milking fingers" in our lives.

No antlers. Ouch.

11/27/2007 02:30:00 PM  

Blogger Jordis Juice said...

Re: We all need some "grunts and squeaks" and "cow milking fingers" in our lives.

Archiebald, I understand why you want - ahem - cow milking fingers but don't think we'd let you call anyone an "old carpet". We'd send the "groping blind Cyclops" your way. ;)

11/27/2007 03:02:00 PM  

Anonymous Archiebald said...

No ma'am. I'm afraid Harlot and Trollop will spank me.

11/27/2007 03:46:00 PM  

Anonymous Archiebald said...

As for unsatisfactory sex scenes, there seems to be a snicker whenever we come across an erotic passage in an otherwise "literary" book. It's shameful and pleasurable all at once, not at all unlike how we sometimes find the act itself.

11/27/2007 03:50:00 PM  

Blogger Vicious Trollop said...

Good lord, I've read some bad sex scenes in romance novels but this is ridiculous!

Old carpet and smells like an armpit? That's plain old nasty. And what's up with that guy with the wings and the birds? LOL

11/27/2007 05:25:00 PM  

Anonymous Anonymous said...

"to draw attention to the crude, tasteless, often perfunctory use of redundant passages of sexual description in the modern novel, and to discourage it"

Sure, do not encourage bad examples of sexual description but there's something about this whole enterprise which smacks of unnecessarily puritanical attitude.

11/27/2007 06:05:00 PM  

Blogger Isabella said...

Oh gawd. Those are really bad.

I actually liked the robot one the best. It made me laugh out loud. :P

'What else is there to do in space for three years?'

'But inter-species sex is illegal.'

'Not on another planet it isn't. Not in space it isn't.' ...

'So you had sex with spacemen for three years?'

'Yes. I used up three silicon-lined vaginas.' ...

LMAO!

11/27/2007 06:12:00 PM  

Blogger Jolie said...

Does it really says "pulpy furred wetness"?

And these "literary" people make fun of romance. Romance may be the laughingstock of literature but we know how to write fantastic sex scenes.

11/28/2007 06:04:00 AM  

Blogger Jolie said...

By the way, who won?

11/28/2007 06:06:00 AM  

Blogger Lily Moon said...

O glorious pubes! These are awful!

Poor Tonks. Professor Lupin (David Thewlis) writes bad sex scenes. Or should I say bad porn? Either way it's funny as hell. Oh, fan fiction!

Oh, wait! It's true!

11/28/2007 06:36:00 AM  

Blogger Harlot said...

Norman Mailer won.

The conception of Adolf Hitler was never going to make for easy reading.

But late American novelist Norman Mailer's explicit rendition of the incestuous encounter between the genocidal German dictator's parents has won the writer one of the world's most dubious literary prizes.
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Mailer, who died of renal failure last month at 84, was one of five candidates for the annual "Bad Sex in Fiction Award" which aims to highlight crude and tasteless descriptions of sex in modern novels.

In a ceremony at the In & Out Club in central London, the judges paid homage to a "great American man of letters," adding: "We are sure that he would have taken the prize in good humor."

11/28/2007 06:46:00 AM  

Blogger Harlot said...

From The Castle in the Forest by Norman Mailer (Little, Brown) p67-68

'Are you all right?' she cried out as he lay beside her, his breath going in and out with a rasp that sounded as terrible as the last winds of their lost children.

'All right. Yes. No,' he said. Then she was on him. She did not know if this would resuscitate him or end him, but the same spite, sharp as a needle, that had come to her after Fanni's death was in her again. Fanni had told her once what to do. So Klara turned head to foot, and put her most unmentionable part down on his hard-breathing nose and mouth, and took his old battering ram into her lips. Uncle was now as soft as a coil of excrement. She sucked on him nonetheless with an avidity that could come only from the Evil One - that she knew. From there, the impulse had come. So now they both had their heads at the wrong end, and the Evil One was there. He had never been so close before.

The Hound began to come to life. Right in her mouth. It surprised her. Alois had been so limp. But now he was a man again! His mouth lathered with her sap, he turned around and embraced her face with all the passion of his own lips and face, ready at last to grind into her with the Hound, drive it into her piety.

11/28/2007 06:48:00 AM  

Blogger Jolie said...

"The Hound"? "The Piety"? WTF?

11/28/2007 07:01:00 AM  

Blogger Lily Moon said...

Norman Meiler's sex scenes are painful to read. Though, I'm surprised the scene with the bird didn't win.

Jolie, I know. Wwhat was that? o.O

11/28/2007 07:04:00 AM  

Blogger Jolie said...

Lily, I'm thinking he means The Penis and The Pussy but I'm not 100% sure.

Maybe we should ask The Fox...

11/28/2007 07:10:00 AM  

Blogger Lily Moon said...

Or the rabbit ^.-

"...took his old battering ram into her lips. Uncle was now as soft as a coil of excrement. She sucked on him nonetheless with an avidity that could come only from the Evil One - that she knew."

This is enough to traumatize the kiddies!!

11/28/2007 07:19:00 AM  

Blogger Jolie said...

LOL. Lily, very true. And I like The Rabbit too.

I think the BBs should have their own Bad Sex Award. ;)

11/28/2007 07:30:00 AM  

Blogger Jolie said...

I mean they should do it. Give the award to some author.

I don't see anything wrong with pointing out books so badly written that they are noteworthy. Either because of their depiction of sex or for any other humorous reason. Personally, I like a good laugh now and then.

11/28/2007 07:36:00 AM  

Blogger Lorelei said...

Hilarious and gross! Ian McEwan's On Chesil Beach was also nominated but I don't think he deserved it. After all his book is really about bad sex.

11/29/2007 12:16:00 AM  

Blogger Aggie said...

Grief ... they are so bad as to be really funny!
It's enough to put you off sex for life .... almost!

11/29/2007 11:53:00 PM