I’m a recent convert to the literary magazine Tin House, and their latest offering is the “Sex issue.” Several great stories, including a feature asking various writers about the first “sexual” literary encounter they had. Some give real eggheady answers (Henry Miller’s “Tropic of Capricorn,” Joyce’s “Ulysses,” etc.) Some are more honest, citing encounters that are closer to pop culture than literature. Got me thinking to mine. I think it was “Jaws.” Clay Fulton, a kid up the street, was allowed to read the book during that summer that Jaws made everyone afraid to go in the water. There were a few steamy scenes in there that Clay told us about with great relish. I wanted to read it myself, but Mom hid it in her drawer, knowing that it was too adult for me at the time. I found it anyway, and I remember marveling at a scene where the police chief wants to have sex with his wife. She tells him she’s too tired and she’s going to sleep, but he can go ahead anyway if he wants. His response was something to the effect of: I’m not into fucking corpses.
Which sent my prepubescent mind reeling. Why would anyone turn down a chance for sex. Even if it was with someone who was asleep.
So what was your first literary sexual awakening? And don’t claim it was Joyce …
2 replies on “Sex in literature …”
I remember my mother having “Fear of Flying” laying around the house when I was about 10, and I was quite titlated by the cover. But the first sex in a book I ever read was actually in a porno book my brother left in our shared room once. A pulp porno book. Read it cover to cover in a day. I think I was 13 or 14. It’s always been my goal to write something as engrossing, but probably never will.
I can’t remember. But I am sure it was from a mass culture book, some pap by Erica Jong or Judith Krantz. It may have even been “Gone With The Wind” (yeah, I read the book.) Seems I remember the scene where Rhett rapes Scarlet as being racy.
Only some private school snot would be reading Henry Miller at 13. We public school spew had to read what we could scrounge from our friends and our minimally educated parents’ nightstands.