JK Rowling and Fifty Shades fail to make bad sex award shortlist

Nov 21, 2012

Tom Wolfe is up for the year's least-wanted literary prize but Rowling's erotic prose judged not bad enough

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THE FIFTY Shades of Grey trilogy and JK Rowling's novel The Casual Vacancy are both out of the running for the 2012 bad sex awards, the year's least-wanted literary prize.

Jonathan Beckman, senior editor at the Literary Review, the organiser of the annual award for dreadful descriptions of sex, told The Guardian that nominations for Rowling's The Casual Vacancy had "poured in". But the judges decided the Harry Potter author's descriptions of intercourse were "not nearly bad enough".

EL James's Fifty Shades trilogy was also spared because literature deemed pornographic and erotic is not eligible for the award which is handed out at a ceremony in December.

Those who did make the shortlist include Paul Mason, an editor for the scandal-prone BBC, and celebrated American author Tom Wolfe who made the cut thanks to some tortured passages in his widely panned new novel Back to Blood.

Extracts from the eight shortlisted novels:

The Quiddity of Will Self, by Sam Mills:

"Down, down, on to the eschatological bed. Pages chafed me; my blood wept onto them. My cheek nestled against the scratch of paper. My cock was barely a ghost, but I did not suffer panic."

Noughties, by Ben Masters:

"We got up from the chair and she led me to her elfin grot, getting amonst the pillows and cool sheets. We trawled each other's bodies for every inch of history."

Back to Blood, by Tom Wolfe:

"Now his big generative jockey was inside her pelvic saddle, riding, riding, riding, and she was eagerly swallowing it swallowing it swallowing it with the saddle's own lips and maw — all this without a word."

Rare Earth by Paul Mason:

"He began thrusting wildly in the general direction of her chrysanthemum, but missing — his paunchy frame shuddering with the efforT of remaining rigid and upside down."

The Yips by Nicola Barker:

"She smells of almonds, like a plump Bakewell pudding; and he is the spoon, the whipped cream, the helpless dollop of warm custard."

Infrared by Nancy Huston:

"This is when I take my picture, from deep inside the loving. The Canon is part of my body. I myself am the ultrasensitive film — capturing invisible reality, capturing heat."

The Divine Comedy by Craig Raine:

"And he came. Like a wubbering springboard. His ejaculate jumped the length of her arm. Eight diminishing gouts. The first too high for her to lick. Right on the shoulder."

The Adventuress: The Irresistible Rise of Miss Cath Fox by Nicholas Coleridge:

"In seconds the duke had lowered his trousers and boxers and positioned himself across a leather steamer trunk, emblazoned with the royal arms of Hohenzollern Castle. 'Give me no quarter,' he commanded. 'Lay it on with all your might.'"

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"On his witch's broomstick she flew and flew, and flew again, a great frown on her face as scenes of domesticity flashed across her mind, 'til she had to stop and opened her eyes. And laughed."

Such a shame that 50 Shades of Crap is out of the running, that has to take prize for worst book of the century :o(

I could only manage the first two or three, truly turgid rubbish.
Hardy folk those judges.