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 …