Between 1982 and 1986, when I was a wide-eyed young lass not yet educated in the ways of the (sex) world by the internet and Dan Savage, I read a science fiction novel about a dystopian future. There was a lot of, um, urination and defecation in it.
For example, one scene I remember
had a female character secretly tailing another female character (her sister, I think) and witnessing a rough sex scene (rape? probably) from the shadows. It arouses her, she reaches her hand down to masturbate, and feels a stream of her own hot urine over her hand as she rubs herself to orgasm. (Yes, I’m aware that biologically that makes no sense, as females can’t urinate and orgasm simultaneously. Even in my 20s I knew that.)
Also, though I remember it less clearly than the scene above, I think that in this future dystopian society, young women had to serve, in effect, as sex slaves for any man who wanted them, the theory being that they would learn from the experience to be more sexually adept when they were older. The same situation might have held for young men as well, I can’t remember.
It was an unsubtle and unpleasant read, but at the time I read it, I took it strictly as metaphor: the author was trying to tell us “society is just like piss and shit! And it treats women like crap! Isn’t it terrible?” So while I disliked the book, I didn’t think anything more about it - a legit message, poorly delivered, yawn, on to the next book.
Looking back on it now, my interpretation is less charitable and more disturbing. Was the author getting his rocks off by writing about these nasty fantasies, making readers part of his (or her, I suppose, but seems likely the author was male) fetishes? YUCK. One wonders how such a book made it into mainstream SF (if that term is not an oxymoron with respect to the 1980s, when SF had a worse rep than it does now).
Anyway, I’ve always been kind of curious. Was the book as terrible as I remember, or was I just easily shocked? Was the author genuinely trying to present a message about the world, or was he just having a little fetish-indulgent sexy time at the expense of readers?
I’m not sure why I care, but I guess it’s interesting to see how one’s perspective on books is different at different stages of one’s life. Though next time I try that exercise, I hope I’ll choose a more worthy book.
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