Or so runs an anonymous review of my novel “Between the tides”. I was rather slow picking up on it, the review having been posted back in April on the Barnes and Noble Website where my titles have now begun washing up, courtesy of their distribution via Smashwords. Of course one shouldn’t take any negative review to heart. For example another anonymous reviewer at B+N writes: I’m an avid reader. Kept trying ti [sic] see if it got better, but after 4 chapters I gave up.
For the boredom I inflicted on the latter reviewer, I apologise and suggest they did the right thing by bailing out after four chapters, but the former reviewer who accuses me of a smut-fest had me thinking: do I overdo the sex bit? Is my work spoiled by an immature approach to it?
My reviewer goes on to complain: Book begins okay with an interesting premise but soon descends into just another porno book we see so many of now. And more: Why authors think they must rely on repeated graphic sex scenes and descriptions to make a literary point is beyond me.
Now, Between the Tides does include two fairly frank depictions of lovemaking. The first occurs in Chapter 20, on page 120 of a total of 197 pages. The second is in chapter 26, on page 169. The novel comprises about 80,000 words, the sexually descriptive passages amount to a few hundred words. At least this reviewer was not bored after four chapters and managed to last until three quarters of the way into the story before, I presume, setting it aside with a modest blush.
But, as regards the “Porno” accusation, I feel exonerated on the strength of evidence to the contrary, but remain a little surprised anyone would think my work relied upon graphic sex scenes to make any kind of point, literary or otherwise. My work does rely often-times on the balance of developing male-female relationships, and such things usually, at some point, involve sex. Perhaps the question is more one of whether it is proper to talk openly about sex in a work of fiction at all.
My reviewer goes on: Look at all the really great authors and you will see that if sex is a part of the story, the author is able to make the point with their literary prowess, not with step by step “He did this”, “She did that”. When Rhett Butler carried Scarlett up those stairs and said “This is one night you’re not turning me out”, did you have any doubt as to what was going to happen?
This is an interesting point. A writer can indeed sometimes allude to sexual matters, without the need to spell things out, so to speak. But I suspect the really great authors my reviewer is referring to were writing at a time when even the mention of a torn petticoat would have landed them on a charge of indecency. I agree, however, that just because a writer has a freer rein now, it does not mean one should throw caution to the winds. It depends on the company one intends keeping, I suppose.
Anyway, I’ve been casting an eye over my use of sex in other stories I’ve written, to see if I’d at any point allowed myself to get carried away, and actually, I don’t think I have. Writers who write for adults should not be shy about talking openly about sex, provided one is sincere and the depictions we use are no more graphic than is required to contribute something meaningful to the development of the story.
It also helps to stay within the bounds of one’s own experience, or failing that, to be very careful in one’s research. Sex is an important aspect of human relationships; indeed it has been the cause of more heartache and disaster than money or religion, so it’s important the writer breaks down the closed bedroom door and investigates what goes on in there, what’s so good about sexual relations, and what can go very wrong with them.
Contrary to my reviewer’s complaint, there’s not a lot of sex in “Between the Tides”, but what there is I think is justified by the story. There’s far more to sex than a mysterious act that grown ups do behind closed doors. It can make or break a relationship, it can explain a relationship, and of course in the very act of love we reveal ourselves more fully than at any other time.
Finally, my reviewer opines: And to think that the literary world for years scorned the “Gothic Romance” and Bodice Ripper genre. Looks like modern authors just think they can’t make it on the power of the writing alone.
Maybe it’s true, the bodice ripper was for years scorned by the literary world. I don’t know, but we certainly can’t say that any more. But for sex to work in so called literary writing, like everything else, it has to be well written, because there’s only one thing worse than unnecessarily graphic depictions of sexual love, and that’s depictions of sexual love that make your readers laugh – unless that’s your intention of course. I may be as guilty of this as any other writer and I’d rather my readers fell asleep before the naughty bits if that’s to be their reaction. But “Porno”? No sir/madam, porno is another genre entirely, though I apologise if the story offends you and suggest you delete it from your device.
But it’s not all doom and gloom on the B+N website, another anonymous reviewer writes:
I really liked this book. It was a hard book to get into, but I just had to see what would happen. I’m glad I did. Well written. J…. :-@
I thank you J.
They say one should never read ones reviews, and certainly we should never take individual reviews seriously – either good or bad. But this is a new era and while not exactly taking them seriously, it can be useful to mine them and learn from your reactions to them. Also, if online writers are to be fair game to the potshots of anonymous reviewers (which we are) those reviewers should not complain if the writer has a little fun at their expense in return, or if they should suddenly find themselves the star of a thus far slow blog week.
Anonymous, my friend, I salute you in the appropriate fashion.
The Rivendale Review 