15 March 2006
1 glad i'm not charlotte simmons
anyone who has had any communication with me whatsoever this week knows i've been reading tom wolfe's I Am Charlotte Simmons and that it is grotesquely loiny. to clarify that this isn't just my legendary verbal squeemishness but some seriously flawed sex writing (in fact, IACS won the Guardian's annual Bad Sex Writing competition), here are some excerpts:
"The memory of it aroused him a bit... but annoyance quickly overcame the stirring in his loins."
"His loins stirred so, he could feel the tumescence against the fly of his jeans."
"his loins certainly remained alive ... welling up beneath his tighty-whiteys."
"Adam departed Edgerton, the Little Yard, and the Mercer Memorial Gate with visions of loamy loins dancing in his head."
"...the girl wore black tights, which gripped every curve and crevice of her loins like a second skin, and a flesh-colored athletic bra."
"The sight aroused Adam. His own loins were on the qui vive, as if something were about to ... happen in this so-called fitness center."
"It clove the declivity and reached down under into the very mystery of her loamy loins."
"Oh, loamy, loamy loins!"