The Bad Sex in Fiction Awards 2012 are out, and amazingly, Fifty Shades of Grey is not among the nominees. How could this be? Not only are E.L. James‘ erotic passages completely inaccurate in terms of BDSM, but they read like… well, shitty fanfiction. What with Anastasia Steele’s inner goddess doing a salsa dance or pole vault to match her level of arousal and/or happiness, or the sheer inaccuracy of Christian Grey being able to go for Round 2 mere minutes after coming… it’s ludicrous that these books aren’t being considered for the award to which they’re perfectly suited.
Seriously. Let’s look at the eight nominees. You want to tell me that this…
“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.” (Back to Blood by Tom Wolfe)
…is worse than this?
Or that this…
“She smells of almonds, like a plump Bakewell pudding; and he is the spoon, the whipped cream, the helpless dollop of warm custard. She steams. He applauds, his tongue hanging out (like a bloodhound espying a raw chop in a cartoon).” (The Yips by Nicola Barker)
…makes us laugh more than this?
And really, I just can’t reconcile this…
“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.” (The Quiddity of Wilf Self by Sam Mills)
…as more WTF than this passage I will never forget:
The Guardian has our answer! Senior editor Jonathan Beckman explained that the prize is for mainstream fiction that includes sex scenes: “The prize’s rubric explicitly excludes pornographic and erotic literature.” He adds (I’d like to think snarks), ”I don’t think she needs any more publicity, does she?”