I have a small stash of books that I keep just for parties and amusement with friends. We’ll break them out, read aloud from them, and fall apart. They include:
EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT SEX (BUT WERE AFRAID TO ASK)- the section on gays is so inaccurate and prejudicial and preposterous that it’s hysterical, with comments like “the most abusive union imaginable between [straight people] is a walk in the park compared to the average day for a butch and his queen”
THE BEHAVIORAL GUIDE FOR YOUNG CHIRSTIAN LADIES (1944)- excerpt: “Sure indicators of lesbianism among young ladies can be smoking, alcohol use, and an inordinate fondness for movies.” The chapter on the evils of “self abuse” could compete with SANFORD AND SON for funniest thing written in the 20th century.
Other things include really bad old sci-fi where everybody owns a robot and an airship but they still listen to radio programs and radios use vacuum tubes. I have a bit of hardcore Ed Wood pulp porn that’s as bad/good as his movies, and of course lots of evangelical stuff.
So, what are some things you’ve read that are so awful they’re wonderful?
Quincey Morris, Vampire by P.N. Elrod, a contination of the Dracula saga. The whole time I was reading this book I constantly complained about how bad it was, and read the really corny passages aloud to anyone unfortunate enough to be within earshot. But I could… not… put… it… down.
Jean M. Auel’s Valley of the Horses, et al. Cheesy (pre-)historical romances about a beautiful Neanderthal woman who singlehandedly invented several different types of medicine, animal husbandry, fellatio, and about a million other things.
Oh, and I was about to add every Xanth novel written in the last ten years, but then I remembered this little exchange from the movie Ghost World:
Rebecca: Wow, this is so bad it’s almost good.
Enid: It’s so bad it’s gone past good and back to bad again.
Heh. It’s really shameful the role that Jean M. Auel’s Earth’s Children’s series played in the shaping of my notions of human (and, incidentally, Neanderthal) sexuality. It was the only soft-core porn in the house. I haven’t read any of her work since leaving puberty.
“The Curse of Clifton, or The Widowed Bride” by Mrs. E.D.E.N. Southworth. A major best-seller of the 19th century, but the entire thing is so badly contrived, it’s funny. Like this:
Hero’s best friend (and best man at his upcoming wedding) and heroine’s younger sister realize they have a thing for each other. Of course, this being the 19th century, they have to get married in order to do anything. The conversation goes something like this:
Sister: It’s too bad we can’t get a marriage license.
BF: Well, it happened that I didn’t know what name my friend wanted on the marriage license, so I asked for an extra one with the names left blank. We could fill them in. But we need a minister.
Sister: See that little cabin over there? It happens that it’s the home of a minister who had been kicked out of his church. But he’s still ordained, so he can perform the ceremony.
So they marry. A half hour after the ceremony, the BF (a cavalry officer) is called to fight the Indians and is reported dead. Nine months later, the sister has a baby. Of course, without a husband, she had to do the most squalid thing any woman is forced to do, an occupation that brings sneers and embarassment to all who find out.
Heh, Podkayne, every once in a while I find myself thinking I know something about Neanderthal society (ok, and the sack) and assuming that I picked it up from a documentary somewhere, and then realizing with the utmost horror that it’s actually something I read in Clan of the Cavebear.
My guilty pleasure is Sax Rohmer, he’s so bad in so many ways. First, he’s so racist it’s almost unbelievable to modern readers (for those who don’t recognize the author, he’s the creator of the Evil Mastermind [sup]TM[/sup] Dr. Fu Manchu).
But beyond that, he’s got the incredible detective (and master of disguise) Sir Dennis Nayland Smith, who is, in many ways, my hero. A typical scenario is that gunshots are heard, and Sir Dennis says “quick – we haven’t got a moment to lose!” and then someone makes a round of whiskey-and-sodas (quickly, because they haven’t got a moment to lose) and everyone downs them (quickly) and then takes after Dr. Fu Manchu’s henchman. It’s amazing how they never quite manage to catch Dr. Fu Manchu at the end of the book – one wonders if perhaps they should cut down a bit on the whiskey-and-sodas. Oh, and there’s also Dr. Petrie, whose entire medical practice (he’s one of the keenest minds in medicine, natch) seems to involve toting small flasks of non-specific elixers and antidotes to mysterious Chinese poisons from crime scene to crime scene.
I was hunting through a thrift store one day and came across a dusty old book written by some old fogey in the 50’s. It’s called Living with Women and How to Survive It.
Puerto Vallarta Squeeze by the infamous Robert James Waller. Cheesy “writer laying low in Mexico running out of money, looking for inspiration, meets a hitman on the run” plotline. The writer’s Mexican girlfriend gets ogled so much by everybody, that Waller should have named her Sex Object. The jaded burnout hitman who is ridiculously lethal and bonds with a wild animal in a cage. More fetishistic descriptions of firearms and gun battles than a Mack Bolan novel. Melodramatic climax you see coming a lightyear away. Pathetic tacked-on postscript ending that underminds a big chunk of the main character’s motivation, as well as making him out to be a hypocritical asshole. Laughable “brooding tough guy” dialogue.
But it played out in my head while reading it as a perfect straight-to-video action flick starring C. Thomas Howell and Steve Railsback.
I own several Betty Crocker cookbooks originally printed in the late '50s and early '60s, including one specifically meant for new brides who do not yet have children.
The assumptions implicit in the instructions and illustrations are hilarious. The descriptions of some of the dishes (“A real man’s favorite!,” “One for the ladies’ luncheon,” etc.) are either screamingly funny or depressing, depending upon one’s perspective. Some of the recipes actually call for both MSG and lard.
Despite this, I actually cook out of two of them on occasion.
It’s practically obligatory to mention this in these threads, so I’ll do it: Anything by Fanthorpe, such as Galaxy 666 (published as by Pel Torro). I’m still utterly, utterly amazed that this not only got published, but re-published three times (the different covers are on-line somewhere). That means that it’s not just a matter of contractual obligation – either some editor really liked this clunker, or else it sold really well. It gives hope to all aspiring authors – “If Galaxy 666 can get published, so can I”.
I’m not kidding about how bad this book is. I honestly think The Eye of Argon is better written and more readable.
The Dune Prequels (House Atredies, House Harkonnen, House Corrino, The Butlerian Jihad) are all pretty exasperating. They’re so intellectually shallow compared to the original series, and have the worst characterization/motivations outside of a 7th grade creative writing project, but there is something about them that demands compulsive reading.
Kinski Uncut by Klaus Kinski…autobiography of this, ahem, unique deceased actor. It runs for about 200 pages or so, but can be summarized in two sentences:
“Everyone in the world except myself is a piece of shit and a moron. And I like screwing as many sluts as I can get my hands on.”
Literally page after page of venomous rages juxtaposed with outrageously graphic sexual encounters. It’s awful, but a hell of a lot of fun to read.
*Wired * by Bob Woodward. Autobiography of John Belushi that is fast paced and entertaining, but it’s sad that such a celebrated journalist can’t think of one original thing to say about Belushi, or provide any insight into his character.
At work I have a copy of “Your Youth: Getting the Best out of It” Published by Watchtower in 1976, given to me as a joke by a coworker. Sounds like it is right up your alley.
"Weakly giving in to sexual desires by masturbation will certainly not give you strength when faced with a situation tempting you to commit fornication - or even homosexuality. Just the opposite, it cultivates wrong thinking and wrong desire. In fact, masturbation can lead into homosexuality. In such instances the person, not satisfied with his lone sexual activity, seeks a partner for mutual sex play.
This happens much more frequently than you may realize. Contrary to what many persons think, homosexuals are not born that way, but their homosexual behavior is learned."
basically, this books says you should think of your huaband as king/child and do whateve rhe wants no matte rif its stupid or whatever.
Think of him only, you are his servant!
I must second Lionel Fanthorpe/Pel Torro/a host of other names, and post one of my favorite sections from MARCH OF THE ROBOTS:
Terrifying things, steel things; metal things; things with cylindrical bodies and multitudinous jointed limbs. Things wthout flesh and blood. Things that were made of metal and plastic and transistors and valves and relays, and wires. Metal things. Metal things that could think. Thinking metal things. Terrifying in their strangeness, in their peculiar metal efficiency. Things the like of which had never been seen on the earth before. Things that were sliding back panels . . . Robots! Robots were marching . . . Robots were marching, and were about to spread havoc and destruction across the earth, and as yet the sleeping earth knew nothing of their coming. As mysterious as anything in the great mysterious universe.
I’m surprised no one has mentioned the Gor novels! I’ve never read them, just different passages, but there is a whole freaking cult built up around this dribble. Just check out roleplaying on AOL… That’s how I came into contact with it, and I have been scarred ever since!!
I’m not sure how this could qualify as good, but obviously somebody out there thinks these books are good, as they still sell, apparently