Sex In Books

It’s clear to me there’s a difference between books that are only about sex and books that contain titillating passages that contribute to or add to the narrative.

And yet, when some of my books that contain such passages are reviewed, they are criticized for too much sex. Which begs the question: What is too much sex? I cannot answer that question if only to note that the criticisms always use the same language. Coincidence? Hardly…

It’s like the word goes out and overnight opinion shapers are saying the same thing in the same way—sort of like the thought police setting the standards for what’s allowed and what's not. Reminiscent, no doubt, of a political party whose members go to bed after a day spent articulating very different opinions on a topic, only to wake the next morning espousing a word-for-word single opinion on the matter.

Funny how the word gratuitous always makes its way into the deliberations on sex in books. Just a coincidence? Why that one word and not one of its dictionary equivalences such as “lacking good reason?”

Why not plenty of good reasons? Why should a writer be so frightened of the norms, as laid out by the opinion shapers (the regulators), that they make it a point to avoid having their writing labeled gratuitous by watering it down? If writing is meant to stir emotions, why should stirring the libido from time to time be frowned upon, especially while the reader watches the arc of the various characters evolve because if it? It would seem that sex and the attitudes towards it would shape a character’s being as much as any other factor.

Oh, I know. In school, they taught you that a writer’s ability to stir emotions without being explicit is a writer’s greatest achievement. How come a book about a brain operation or a battle that contains explicit details might bring me close to upchucking is allowed, but sex between consenting partners is not? I’m not into rape, but one of my characters might be, which is to say that there are moments when graphic descriptions are in bad taste.

Where and when did the gratuitous label originate? In schools and universities, of course, in master’s level creative writing programs. And the attitudes learned in classes influenced publishers and agents who attended these programs. It’s the natural result of the hair-splitting effect of contiuously dissecting a subject instead of allowing free rein to explore it. In short, by not having enough substantive material to offer students, teachers have had to manufacture norms that actually steer students in the opposite direction. Want another example?

The lowly comma spice. Defined as “a grammatical error that occurs when a comma is used to join two independent clauses,” the comma splice is a favorite target of reviewers, even though there are times when a conjunction or a semicolon doesn’t work as well as a comma splice. I’ve been in writers groups where members love nothing better than to call out one another over a comma slice.

If Salman Rushdie or Stephen King submitted a book with lots of comma splices and so-called gratuitous sex, you wouldn’t hear a peep. The demigods of literature are above the norms.

Think sex in books is overdone? What about movies? They have moving images, sound effects, music, as well as words. Writers only have words, which seem to frighten the “regulators” more than anything else.

It’s just one of the obstacles an unknown writer must overcome.