Bookaholic

Era cât pe ce ca mămica lui Harry Potter,  J.K. Rowling, să intre în cursa pentru Bad Sex in Fiction, premiu creat în 1993 de “Literary Review” pentru a atrage atenția asupra acelor pasaje cu descrieri jalnice despre sex din literatura contemporană (după cum vă povesteam și anul trecut, când printre nominalizați au fost inclusiv Haruki Murakami sau Stephen King).

Asta spuneau cel puțin zvonurile, care o plasau pe Rowling printre preferați cu al său “The Casual Vacancy”, primul ei roman pentru adulți și primul din afara seriilor “Harry Potter”. Britanica a ratat însă lupta pentru “marele premiu” pentru simplul motiv că scriitura ei nu a fost chiar atât de proastă, după cum a lăsat să se înțeleagă juriul competiției.

Tom Wolfe și Nancy Huston fac parte din scurta listă cu nominalizații din acest an la Bad Sex in Fiction, care nu i-a ocolit în trecut nici pe Norman Mailer, nici pe Sebastian Faulks.

Ce e cu adevărat interesant la lista de anul ăsta este faptul că a ocolit complet Cele 50 de vicii ale domnului Grey (adică Fifty Shades of Grey) a autoarei E. L. James, ceea ce spune, zic eu, ceva despre scenele de sex din cărțile care totuși au intrat în competiție.Vă lăsăm deci cu câteva citate din ele, via The Guardian 🙂

• The Quiddity of Wilf Self, by Sam Mills Down, down, on to the eschatological bed. Pages chafed me; my blood wept onto them. My cheek nestled against the scratch of paper. My cock was barely a ghost, but I did not suffer panic.

• Noughties, by Ben Masters We got up from the chair and she led me to her elfin grot, getting amonst the pillows and cool sheets. We trawled each other’s bodies for every inch of history.

• Back to Blood, by Tom Wolfe Now his big generative jockey was inside her pelvic saddle, riding, riding, riding, and she was eagerly swallowing it swallowing it swallowing it with the saddle’s own lips and maw — all this without a word.

• Rare Earth by Paul Mason He began thrusting wildly in the general direction of her chrysanthemum, but missing — his paunchy frame shuddering with the efford of remaining rigid and upside down.

• The Yips by Nicola Barker She smells of almonds, like a plump Bakewell pudding; and he is the spoon, the whipped cream, the helpless dollop of warm custard.

• Infrared by Nancy Huston This is when I take my picture, from deep inside the loving. The Canon is part of my body. I myself am the ultrasensitive film — capturing invisible reality, capturing heat.

• The Divine Comedy by Craig Raine And he came. Like a wubbering springboard. His ejaculate jumped the length of her arm. Eight diminishing gouts. The first too high for her to lick. Right on the shoulder.

• The Adventuress: The Irresistible Rise of Miss Cath Fox by Nicholas Coleridge In seconds the duke had lowered his trousers and boxers and positioned himself across a leather steamer trunk, emblazoned with the royal arms of Hohenzollern Castle. ‘Give me no quarter,’ he commanded. ‘Lay it on with all your might.’