In her book, How to Read/Write a Dirty Story, Susie Bright has a chapter titled "The Good Parts." She writes about her first experience, at the age of thirteen, of reading the "dirty parts" of a novel. In her case, it was The Godfather by Mario Puzo. That chapter of Bright's book inspired me in two ways. First, it sent me to the library to check out just about every "dirty" novel I could find. (My large Midwestern city has a great library, but still, there weren't that many.) Then, I sat down to make a list of some of the dirty stories I'd read before I went seeking them out on purpose. Here are some of the memorable sex scenes from my pre-Susie Bright reading list.
My First "Adult" Novel: The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger. When I was 13, I read this book because it was supposed to be good and a little bit scandalous. It was the first thing I'd ever read that contained the word "fuck," even if only in the insulting, graffiti sense of the word.
The teenage narrator of Catcher, Holden Caulfield, is a virgin. He makes out with girls, even the particularly "phony" ones he detests, but can't quite bring himself to go all the way. He does see a little voyeuristic action in a hotel room: through his window, he sees a middle-aged man cross-dressing and a young couple spitting water (or gin, or something) all over each other. He also hires a prostitute, but thinks she's rather pathetic, and doesn't touch her. Upon reflection, Salinger would have us believe that sex is to be idealized to the point that you would never actually have it with another human being. I'm glad I didn't listen to him.
The American Classics: "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg; Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. I loved all the Beat poets in high school, but especially Allen Ginsberg. I could respect the fact that he was unapologetically gay, and I was intrigued by the explicit references to guy-guy sex. Before reading Allen Ginsberg, I'd never considered the possibility that two guys might suck each other's dicks. Or that I'd like reading about it.
Ginsberg, in turn, was inspired by nineteenth-century American poet Walt Whitman. Walt was required reading in high school, specifically including the sections entitled "Children of Adam" and "Calamus." "Children of Adam" celebrates the human body and the yearnings of love and sex. It's not terribly exciting, or graphic, until you get to the brief "O Hymen! O Hymenee!" In it, Walt Whitman celebrates the brief thrill of popping a cherry.
"Calamus" contains some of Walt's homoerotic imagery, although it's nothing as explicit as "Howl." The word "calamus" itself is sort of a code word for "dick." It's a phallic-shaped grass. (I base this information on what I learned from my eleventh-grade teacher, who also steered me toward Ernest Hemingway's posthumous novel The Garden of Eden, about a married couple who have an affair with a woman. And I went to a Catholic high school!)
My First True "How I Lost My Virginity" Story: I, Tina, by Tina Turner with Kurt Loder. I didn't spend all of my teenage years reading American classics. I also read tons of books about rock music and rock musicians. My favorite was the inspiring story of Tina Turner and her escape from Ike.
Among Tina's memories of growing up in rural Tennessee was her account of losing her virginity. "It hurt so bad," she writes, "I think my earlobes were hurting." She goes on to say that "Everything was right. So it was beautiful."
Everything was right? How much would it have to hurt before she decided that something was wrong? Although I was still a virgin when I read this, I refused to let it give me nightmares.
Most Sex-Negative Book: No Disrespect by Sistah Souljah. The controversial rapper/writer's sort-of-autobiography contains a series of parables about sex. Usually, about how sex can go wrong. Mostly, about how it goes wrong for women. Sistah Souljah is just as pessimistic about the possibilities of lesbian sex as she is about straight sex, too. She tries to overcome her prejudice against lesbians and imagine what it would be like to have sex with another woman.
" . . . How disappointed, I imagined, I would be to receive a warm sensual kiss and have my body ignited, only to have my vagina stimulated by a small finger or an aggravating plastic or rubber vibrator . . ." We get it, Sistah: you like dicks. But would somebody please tell this woman what her clitoris is for? Because really, sexual relationships are only as good as we make them. And we have to learn to please ourselves before anyone else, man or woman, can please us.
Favorite Lesbian Book: Bogeywoman by Jaimy Gordon. This was the first lesbian romance that I ever came across. I read the quirky story, set in a mental institution, in two sittings. It's about a very determined, sensual young woman and her forbidden love for her therapist. Both of them, I assure you, know what a clit is for.
Closest Thing to a Boy-Boy Romance Novel: Dream Boy by Jim Grimsley. In keeping with the same-sex theme of Bogeywoman, I read this bittersweet story of an abused teenage boy and the fragile, loving bond he forms with a slightly older boy. Quite romantic, actually, in a weird Southern Gothic type of way.
I never really had a Godfather moment like Susie Bright did, smuggling a look at a dirty novel in the coat closet. I did, however, once find a trashy biography of Marilyn Monroe in my parents' linen closet. It was so compellingly awful that I read the whole thing in a few hours. It had everything: prostitution, abortion, and even a president and his brother who had sex with two women in the White House, then swapped partners. It didn't matter to me whether any of this was actually true; it stuck with me. A few years later, I was still fascinated enough by Marilyn's seamy, tragic life that I picked up Blonde by Joyce Carol Oates. No Oates fan am I; I find her depressing. So I never read it, but I did flip through it. There was a memorable line about Marilyn's cheating on hubby Joe DiMaggio, something about "coming home with other men's semen dripping from her cunt."
These days, I can't stop reading or writing dirty stories. Erotic images, both positive and negative, come from all kinds of books, from the great classics to trashy movie star bios. I'm sure they influence my writing, and they probably influence the way I make love, too.
So, the next time you need that spark to light up your erotic imagination, head for the nearest bookshelf. And give all kinds of books a chance. The ones that have the most to say about sex might not be the ones you'd expect.
Originally published September 2007 - "Saucy Septmeber"