Literary Devices
I teach an introductory college-level literature course and dedicate at least half of the first day of every new class explaining why it’s important to study fiction, poetry, creative essays, and the like. The spiel typically ends with my admission that I’ve made a good number of important life decisions based on what happens in The Great Gatsby. Indeed, if I had a WWJD bracelet, the J wouldn’t be referring to the higher power most people associate it with. Instead, mine would consider, “What would Jay (Gatsby) do?”
Anyway, the point is that literature isn’t only about entertainment. It also opens our minds to what’s going on in the world and, hopefully, starts conversations about the things that need discussing. Such is the case with two new Cleis Press publications: Playing With Fire, and Best Sex Writing 2010. In Janine Ashbless’ “Scorched” from Playing With Fire, readers meet Emerald, a woman engaged three-way affair that isn’t what it seems (even to her). Sure, it’s evocative, but after the climactic tremors subside, the words and ideas may linger, and the next time we’re faced with some sort of relationship dilemma, we might just wonder—for better or worse—What would Emerald do?
What Emerald does is challenge the sanctity of plain ol’ monogamy. She’s in a committed relationship with Max. Max and Greg are best friends, and Max essentially initiates the entire thing, telling Greg “to make a pass and see how” Emerald responds. She does, and so begins a sordid triangle of quasi-infidelity: Emerald believes she’s cheating, but Max knows the entire time, so we can’t really claim that she’s betraying him. In fact, if anybody is being betrayed, it’s Emerald.
And here’s where the discussion portion of today’s literature lesson begins.
On the surface, it’s easy to denounce the characters in “Scorched.” Even Ashbless won’t be offended if you’re not totally sold on their likeability. “I deliberately wrote a filthy, dirty story about people who behave in ways I don’t approve of,” she says. “All three characters are selfish and duplicitous, in different ways. I don’t find any of them particularly sympathetic.”
But that’s just on the surface. What about beneath the surface? What do we really know of Emerald’s particular situation? Who are we to judge her very non-traditional relationship triangle if it really does make her happy, even if for just a short time?
Then again, it’s just fiction, right? Except that these are the same sorts of questions that will come up while reading the essay “The Anatomy of an Affair” from Best Sex Writing 2010. It’s authored by Kerry Cohen, writing as Michelle Perrot, and details her real-life yearning for an extramarital affair—and not just a simple fling, but “Dirty, spit-in-his mouth sex. Wet, disgusting, nasty talk about pussies and cum and fuck-me sex.”
Cohen’s sexual description of herself is Emerald-esque, yet Cohen is not a fictional character. She’s a real woman with real responsibilities and real desires—and in the midst of a very real experience with needing more carnality than her husband can offer. So while it’s easy to dismiss Emerald and her boy toys as merely fantasy, Cohen wants to make “people think outside the box when it comes to the idea of adultery. I guess I’m hoping people will consider the ways we limit ourselves in our marriages,” she says.
Anyway, the point is that literature isn’t only about entertainment. It also opens our minds to what’s going on in the world and, hopefully, starts conversations about the things that need discussing. Such is the case with two new Cleis Press publications: Playing With Fire, and Best Sex Writing 2010. In Janine Ashbless’ “Scorched” from Playing With Fire, readers meet Emerald, a woman engaged three-way affair that isn’t what it seems (even to her). Sure, it’s evocative, but after the climactic tremors subside, the words and ideas may linger, and the next time we’re faced with some sort of relationship dilemma, we might just wonder—for better or worse—What would Emerald do?
What Emerald does is challenge the sanctity of plain ol’ monogamy. She’s in a committed relationship with Max. Max and Greg are best friends, and Max essentially initiates the entire thing, telling Greg “to make a pass and see how” Emerald responds. She does, and so begins a sordid triangle of quasi-infidelity: Emerald believes she’s cheating, but Max knows the entire time, so we can’t really claim that she’s betraying him. In fact, if anybody is being betrayed, it’s Emerald.
And here’s where the discussion portion of today’s literature lesson begins.
On the surface, it’s easy to denounce the characters in “Scorched.” Even Ashbless won’t be offended if you’re not totally sold on their likeability. “I deliberately wrote a filthy, dirty story about people who behave in ways I don’t approve of,” she says. “All three characters are selfish and duplicitous, in different ways. I don’t find any of them particularly sympathetic.”
But that’s just on the surface. What about beneath the surface? What do we really know of Emerald’s particular situation? Who are we to judge her very non-traditional relationship triangle if it really does make her happy, even if for just a short time?
Then again, it’s just fiction, right? Except that these are the same sorts of questions that will come up while reading the essay “The Anatomy of an Affair” from Best Sex Writing 2010. It’s authored by Kerry Cohen, writing as Michelle Perrot, and details her real-life yearning for an extramarital affair—and not just a simple fling, but “Dirty, spit-in-his mouth sex. Wet, disgusting, nasty talk about pussies and cum and fuck-me sex.”
Cohen’s sexual description of herself is Emerald-esque, yet Cohen is not a fictional character. She’s a real woman with real responsibilities and real desires—and in the midst of a very real experience with needing more carnality than her husband can offer. So while it’s easy to dismiss Emerald and her boy toys as merely fantasy, Cohen wants to make “people think outside the box when it comes to the idea of adultery. I guess I’m hoping people will consider the ways we limit ourselves in our marriages,” she says.
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