You never know what you'll find in a book....
I really love book sculptures. I don't remember where I found this particular image, but if you google Book sculptures images, there's oddles of them. In the last post I talked about being married & influenced by puritan attitudes about sex, while that is true, my conversation with Ranch Chimp about the symbolism of the painting "The Pink Beast" reminded me of all the smut I used to devour as a kid in the form of literature. Not having access to anything else, I found sex in novels. Even when I was in juvenile detention, I'd find it in the pathetic excuses for they generally had for libraries. Of course if the authorities had known it was there, it wouldn't have been on the shelves.* Fortunately for me they never read that shit, anyway. I remember one ponderous obscure novel, I can't recall the name of it, very weird, with all these references to Gog & Magog. It didn't make any sense, but it had this great satyr character that was always luring women into the woods & having graphic sex with them. The book was my little secret & was great company in my cell. ;)
Funny thing, though, I've always hated those smutty Harlequin style romance novels that some women read. Empty headed crap, that makes women look like spineless simpering fools. Now, that's the kind of book you want to throw against the wall. The characters have as much depth as a paper doll cutout. Actually, that's a pretty good description, because it's the same set of characters, over & over...they just change clothes. I could write one! Let's see...The male character attached to the ever present throbbing member would be named "Rodrick Remington"...
*Those little New Testaments that the churches were always donating were great, too...for cigarette papers. We would pilfer cigarette butts from ashtrays in the supervisors offices & use the new testament pages to roll new cigarettes from the butts we collected. ;)
posted by Rita @ 8:50 AM
19 Comments
19 Comments:
If they were to ever remove those offending books that you little subversives like to read, you could find low grade eroticas in the Bible itself.
I know, it's not as satifying as smoking it, but there is some low grade erotica to be found in the Bible:
Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead.
Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.
Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet, and thy speech is comely: thy temples are like a piece of a pomegranate within thy locks.
Thy neck is like the tower of David builded for an armoury, whereon there hang a thousand bucklers, all shields of mighty men.
Thy two breasts are like two young roes that are twins, which feed among the lilies.
Until the day break, and the shadows flee away, I will get me to the mountain of myrrh, and to the hill of frankincense.
Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee.
Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me from Lebanon: look from the top of Amana, from the top of Shenir and Hermon, from the lions' dens, from the mountains of the leopards.
Thou hast ravished my heart, my sister, my spouse; thou hast ravished my heart with one of thine eyes, with one chain of thy neck.
How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse! how much better is thy love than wine! and the smell of thine ointments than all spices!
Thy lips, O my spouse, drop as the honeycomb: honey and milk are under thy tongue; and the smell of thy garments is like the smell of Lebanon.
A garden inclosed is my sister, my spouse; a spring shut up, a fountain sealed.
Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates, with pleasant fruits; camphire, with spikenard,
Spikenard and saffron; calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense; myrrh and aloes, with all the chief spices:
A fountain of gardens, a well of living waters, and streams from Lebanon.
Awake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden, that the spices thereof may flow out. Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits
From the Song of Solomom.
Not exactly my style, but someone's getting all worked up in there ;-)
More from The Song of Solomon:
"I am come into my garden, my sister, my spouse: I have gathered my myrrh with my spice; I have eaten my honeycomb with my honey; I have drunk my wine with my milk: eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved.
I sleep, but my heart waketh: it is the voice of my beloved that knocketh, saying, Open to me, my sister, my love, my dove, my undefiled: for my head is filled with dew, and my locks with the drops of the night.
I have put off my coat; how shall I put it on? I have washed my feet; how shall I defile them?
My beloved put in his hand by the hole of the door, and my bowels were moved for him.
I rose up to open to my beloved; and my hands dropped with myrrh, and my fingers with sweet smelling myrrh, upon the handles of the lock.
I opened to my beloved; but my beloved had withdrawn himself, and was gone: my soul failed when he spake: I sought him, but I could not find him; I called him, but he gave me no answer"
______________________
Now they're getting a bit scattalogical?
Twenty years ago, a friend ---who has a unique sense of humor and was out of work ---took a course in how to write a romance novel (there was a very strict formula.) She thought she might make some money writing them ---under a pseudonym, of course. She invited a bunch of us for a pot-luck dinner to brainstorm a plot. In preparation, she sent us each three paperback romance novels from her library. One night when I was reading in bed, Roderick (or whatever his name was) grabbed Ashley (or whatever her name was) to his chest. Then she felt "the evidence of his arousal." I laughed so loudly, I woke up my husband. I never finished reading that insipid book nor even looked at the two others.
At the dinner, we just made fun of the books we had read and never did get around to coming up with a unique plot (maybe because there are none.) Luckily my friend soon found a job as a newspaper reporter ---enough drama to satisfy an aspiring romance writer.
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Oh gosh, I need to try writing a little erotic literature of sorts.
"Monkeyman skipped across the beach and then started rubbing sunblock lotion on Fendermound's curvatious back while she was in cloud 9 sleep on an swinging feather cushion hammock. The relaxing seabreeze was warm and wet as it slowly blew over her smooth back and under her bare breasts, she was dreaming of flying pink unicorns which were gradually projecting to increasing sizes, larger and larger while Monkeyman was rocking the hammock, back and forth. It felt delightful, as if all the worries in the world were being lifted off of her mind and being replaced with erotic waves of pleasure, they came, first slowly but gradually the waves of pleasure in her mind started increasing in frequency and magnitude until there was no noticeable time delay between one wave of pleasure and the next. With unicorns soring above her she was riding on a unicorn soring just in front of a major tidal wave of ectassy, greater in magnitude than she had ever felt before. Monkeyman had gently rolled her onto her back, and after pulling her bikini down below her knees he had begun gently applying sunblock lotion to Fendermound's smooth white triangle regions, first with the belly and gradually made his way down. Fendermound was dreaming of riding a unicorn in front of a tidal wave through a narrow canyon crevice...there were rainbows that spanned the canyon as she was flying through them, suddenly she was hearing a pitter patter, she felt drops of rain hitting her neck, but these drops as intense as the tidal wave that was slowly gaining on her. The rain drops were hitting her breasts and on her hair, running down her back. Suddenly she was engulfed in a wave of pleasure so intense, the water drenching her and the unicorn as she was submerging to the bottom of the canyon...Monkeyman was on top of Fendermounds in the hammock. Some time later they had awoken from their cloud 9 sleep, and Monkeyman, her longtime boyfriend got up and cooked her some seaweed wrapped around coconut slices and tropical kiwis ..."
Oh, it sucks!!!
Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from the washing; whereof every one bear twins, and none is barren among them.
Teeth can get pregnant? Not good news. Not good news at all.
How fair is thy love, my sister, my spouse!
The dude married his sister? Well, to each his own, but maybe people shouldn't make such decisions after smoking a Bible.
Mac
I've read Song of Solomon a few times. It has some good parts but it's too obscure for me. This is how I remember it being spun when I was religious:
Most conservative interpreters who view the book as an extended type believe the events recorded really took place, in contrast to the allegorical interpreters, but their primary significance lies in their illustrative value.
"The shepherd is a picture of Christ, that great Shepherd of the sheep. The Shulamite mirrors the Church or the individual believer devoted to Him.
Solomon represents the prince of this world armed with all worldly pomp,power, and magnificence. The court women are those who admire him and who look askance at those who turn their backs upon the world, its system,and all that it has to offer in favor of an absent and, to them, unknown
Beloved."
Those sexy fundamentalists....
c.woods I have been known to "swoon" & enjoy "evidences of arousal" but...my main gripe against them is that they are so badly written & I just despise reading tripe. I also don't like the way romance novels turn women into weak willed puritanical creatures that must be coerced & overpowered by the lord of the manor, just so they can enjoy the act. Then they have to get married to justify the fact that they enjoyed it, & prove they are worthy of the arrogant jerks who could of had ANY woman but picked the little ole pure & virginal servant girl or whatever, that he had to practically rape to get to succumb. Gag Me with a spoon!
qf
I'm surprised. That was actually sort of entertaining, with out being too graphic...I loved the pink unicorns, & the hammock & ocean waves...it made for a nice "My little Pony" effect. I even imagined a rainbow in there somewhere. ;)
infidel
The imagery leaves a lot to be desired...IMO "thy hair is as a flock of goats" that's the one that got me. We always had goats when I was growing up. Have you ever smelled a Billy Goat?
Billy goat hair!? *phew*
Well, considering what people probably smelled like back then.....
PG 13 version, of course.
I dunno.
He put his hand on by the whole of the door and her bowels were moved, seems kinda kinky to me ;-)
I once read a few romance novels because I was thinking of trying to make a bit of extra money by writing them -- a lot of them are written by men using female pen-names, and as you point out, they're pretty formulaic. But it turned out they were so formulaic and trite that I could hardly stand reading them, so I gave up on the idea of trying to write them.
qf "fendermonds" interesting word...voluptuous car parts?
Uh, Rodri...
I mean mac
It's the Bible, for Christ's sake. Get a grip ;)
infidel
If you wrote one, it might actually be worth reading. ;)
Observe the striking similarity between Beetle Fenders and Fender Suits
I won't read the harlequin type novels, but I do admit to reading some ridiculously funny books that I would never call literature that get a "romance" novel theme thrown in I suspect to make sales. I mean, there are two writers in particular - I laugh till I cry almost every time I read these. Not a mocking laugh either. But these female authors are a bit fairer to the women in their books as well... the women are usually the seducers, have real careers, do some of the rescuing during the grand adventure, etc. I do have a friend whose mother reads the harlequin novels... we used to do "dramatic readings" when we got bored.
Also - Roderick Whateveritwas is a perfect name for those books. Name the girl Rachel and write it.
QF - ohmigod pink unicorns. You win.
starry
I know what you mean. I read two Bridget Jones books that I thought were hilarious & very witty. Can you imagine anyone calling a Harlequin romance, "witty"?
Dramatic readings with Harlequin romances, that sounds like fun. :)
When I was in college, my roommate used to buy "True Confessions" magazines. When we didn't have Friday or Saturday night dates, we would do dramatic readings. But this was back in the good ---er, maybe "bad" old days when people acted all innocent. I'm not saying they WERE innocent, just acted as if they were. So the story title on the front cover "Our First Date Lasted Three Days" which sounded as if it might be rather titillating, turned out to be about a woman who met a guy at a conference and they went out together three evenings in a row ---and no more sex than a good-night kiss. Needless to say, the stories always ended in disappointed groans from the readers.
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