In his Radio 3 Essay, 'Explaining the Explicit', Man Booker Prize winner Julian Barnes posed the question, "Is writing about sex, the same as writing about any other human activity - say gardening or cricket?" His exploration of the subject (including an amusing analysis of an Evelyn Waugh sex scene) was compelling, and went on to talk about self-consciousness and exposure; the fear that readers will assume the sexual encounters you're writing about actually happened to you, and how this impacts on the tone of the way you write about sex. "The naming of parts: which parts do you name and what names do you give them? At the basic level... He put his what into her, or indeed his, what?" He talks of John Updike comparing the male member, in one novel, to a yam, which made visualising the sexual scene difficult, the reader being distracted by mental images of a vegetable stall.
"The proper, grown up novel is the most intimate of
art forms," concludes Barnes, "the one that puts the reader's mind
and heart most closely in touch with the minds and hearts of the
characters. It is the place where the
most truth about the intimacies of life can, and should, still be
told."
The full recording can be found here: Explaining the Explicit
Last year, while completing a novel about a fairly dysfunctional (middle-class) family I
found myself in the slightly uncomfortable position of having to write a sex
scene.
Well, I say a sex scene, but love scene would describe it
more accurately, because it's really rather tender and in many ways quite
innocent, and though I found it necessary to describe the sleepy, sensual
foreplay leading up to the sex act, I stopped short of portraying the
intercourse itself, I'm not sure what Julian Barnes would say about that.
I had deliberated long and hard about whether to include
the scene at all, but it was ultimately necessary, because the reader needed an
awareness that this sixty-year-old protagonist, who is a remarkably likable
character, isn't some sort of saint; he is real, vulnerable, sexual, like any
other man. And I think understanding his
internal battle adds to our appreciation of his anguish, for the woman he has
formed a deep bond with is his own niece.
Now hopefully, I dealt with that sensitively, and while the
developing obsessional relationship between these two consenting adults is not
entirely healthy, their involvement seeks to harm no-one else, and it's our own
narrow-mindedness as the reader, perhaps, which might object to the thought of
these two having sex.
More recently, I've been adapting 'Attachment' to a
radio play script, and this has given me the added difficulty of portraying
sex, through dialogue and sound affects alone.
Given these would-be lovers are barely conscious there isn't a lot of
dialogue in the novel, the scene is set through the prose, and so I fear I
shall be left relying on sounds, as in, sex sound (or at least foreplay
sounds) to convey this love scene in a radio drama version. This indeed has presented me with a new
challenge, how do I achieve this in a tasteful way?.
BBC Radio listeners do not always appreciate such subject
matter. Recently the corporation
received several complaints about love scenes portrayed on The Archers, The
Diary of Samuel Pepys, and a Woman's Hour drama, with one listener
stating: “Please can all the grunts and
grinds of people humping each other stop.
We don’t need that – we’d rather hear the pigs doing it.”
The British public have always been famously prudish about
sex and nudity in its serious form, with a preference to reduce the subject
to the somewhat immature schoolboy humour of the Carry On tradition.
Back in April 1970 acting stars Susan Penhaligon and
Michael Mackenzie set pulses racing and tongues wagging, when they dared to
portray an authentic scene from Romeo and Juliet naked in bed, at the
Connaught Theatre in Worthing. In total, there were ninety seconds of nudity within the two and a half hour performance, but local residents threatened to
cause havoc with tomatoes and water pistols if the scene went ahead, such was
the perception of an attack on Christian moral values.
In that same year The Sun newspaper introduced Page
3! The explicit objectification of bare
breasts in their daily tabloid was popular enough to save it from declining
sales. Clearly there has always been a strange, insidious double standard deep
within the nation's collective unconscious, and one that's not at all
healthy. A mother breastfeeding a child
on a train will still attract looks of disgust and condemnation!
It behoves all of us who work within the arts to try and
educate society, and encourage exploration in a positive, healthy way. For now, I shall return to agonising over the
beautiful, yet problematic erotic scene in my script.
Please feel free to leave your comments, and any sensible
tips or advice.