“I feel I have to warn you, there is some explicit sex in book five,” I say. Then hate that I’ve said it. I backpedal, “But it fits really well with the character growth and story.” One, I’ve confessed to a new person that I read explicit stories, and two, I hate that I feel it’s a confession. I manage to stop myself before explaining that it’s not just one scene, or one couple, either. Several people get some in book 5, and it’s good for everyone involved.
I’d never read anything like it before.
“The message about sex that I got from the church and ‘the world’ agreed on one point: that it was dirty and only bad people really enjoyed it.”-Sara Roberts Jones
I’m writing this article for a couple reasons: One, I, and almost everyone I know, was affected by the purity movement and it has left us with deep and weird mental and emotional scarring. Two, I’ve seen similar language and values reflected in secular culture in the worst ways.
The point of this article is that, contrary to the paranoia of purity culture and the derision of broader culture, spicy books, even erotica, have genuine value and can help foster a better relationship with sex.
I don’t intend to tackle related issues—like the cultural disdain for womanly things, the suppression of information about women’s bodies, or whether or not sex is a fundamentally good thing, or who is allowed to have sex and under what circumstances.
Here is my base assumption: Sex is good. Whether you believe it is a gift from God or just an evolutionary necessity, the existence of the clitoris and the orgasm strongly suggest that sex is good and meant to be pleasurable for both parties.
If you disagree with this assumption, you might have trouble with the article, but go ahead and read it anyway.
Mixed Messages and Conspicuous Silence
Everybody is weird about sex, but no one is weirder about it than the church. That’s just sad.
I’ve read and heard the phrase “Sex is good and a gift from God” from pastors and church-books. But that was about the extent of my pre-marriage instruction.
The stronger story, the story shown, rather than told, is heavily tainted with guilt, pain, and paranoia.
From the terrible situations portrayed in the Old Testament to Christian Fiction, to the awful marriage advice books pushed by most churches (the most grievous of them being Every Man’s Battle), everything from the church portrays sex as this necessary evil. For some mysterious reason, men have a sex drive and sex is the mechanism for making babies (which we were obviously told to do). It’s deeply unclear what women get out of sex (babies?). Sex is good, but you must never think about it, talk about it, read about it, see it anywhere. (Some take this further, and bar you from seeing human bodies—especially female bodies—at all.)
I devoured Christian fiction up into my early 20’s--In these stories, women have to defend their virtue, and only bad men notice their bodies. The good guy only notices her eyes, lips, and might touch her waist. If an explicit sexual act occurs on page, it is perpetrated by bad people. Other than a very basic mechanical description in a Dobson book about puberty, and likewise mechanical instructions from a couple marriage books1 after I was engaged, the first explicit descriptions of sexual acts I ever read were from depositions from a child prostitution ring the FBI busted. I’m not the only one, I have heard similar stories from my friends.
When I got married and was finally “allowed” to think about sex, there were no neural pathways for it. I had no concept for what healthy sexual attraction looked and felt like, or what sex looked like as part of a relationship, or what sex looked like at all. I’d only seen the acts painted as bad, not understanding that it wasn’t the act, but the context that made it so.
Sit with that thought. I, a believer in Christ, raised reading books written by Christian people, believing that sex was a good thing that was a gift from God, had never read a story in which sex or sexual acts were portrayed explicitly as a good thing.2 Not only that, but the pulpit is so worried about pornography that they list sex blanketly among those awful sins the world does—so any portrayals of sex I might’ve seen elsewhere I avoided or wrote off as bad.3 The purity movement extrapolated abstaining from sex before marriage to abstaining from being a sexual being at all.
If sex is good, why is it always portrayed as bad or not portrayed at all? Did anyone think about possible consequences of this one-sided story?
And after years (decades for some) of training your mind to have a shame response to sex means you have to unlearn all that once married. -Atlas Daughter
There is this big fat muzzle on the topic. You can’t talk about sex, you can’t google sex (obviously, you CAN, but is that “allowed”?) I guess if you’re daring you might seek out self help books or devotionals, and I can tell you that 99% of the marriage advice books peddled to the Christian market are not going to help with this.
So. I put this question to you: How are we supposed to learn anything at all about sex without being allowed to talk about it or read about it?
As a follow up question: If sex is good (remember, that’s a base assumption here), why can’t we talk about it or read about it or think about it?4
You cannot say “sex is good” and also “sex is dirty and you must never speak of it or think of it unless you are actively engaging with your spouse.”
That is not how humans work. That is not how relationships work. That is not how sex works.
If Sex is good, show it as good.
I don’t just mean in vague terms and thick metaphors. I don’t just mean in the most basic of cold mechanical instructions. Though, honestly, more instructions than “insert here to make babies” would’ve been nice. So, maybe you can accept that an instructional manual is ok, so why not also a work of fiction? Not all of us like instructional manuals (I’m sure I could make an exception for one on sex) or have the courage to pick one up. Seriously though, if instructions are ok, why wouldn’t art or fiction also be ok? No one is being exploited, you aren’t contributing to the slave trade. Instead, you’re seeing completely imaginary scenarios play out.5
Don’t panic:
I’m not saying that all books should have explicit sex scenes.
I’m not saying books that fade to black or don’t reference sex in a romantic relationship are bad. In fact, I think there are a lot of these books that still contribute to positive relationship with sex without showing it on the page.
I’m not saying that you have to read books with explicit sex scenes.
I’m not saying that all books with explicit sex scenes are created equal.
What I am saying:
A book containing, even celebrating, sex as part of a relationship, shouldn’t be disparaged because it contains or celebrates sex. You don’t have to to look away from the book in order to respect the characters’ humanity.
What does that mean? I mean we shouldn’t call it dirty. We shouldn’t think less of people for liking that kind of book.
I’m also saying there is real, practical, value in these books. Benefits in no particular order:
Fiction is a safe place to openly discuss sex—sexual technique, and how sex fits into a relationship.
Fiction can help you think positively about sex (rebuild after damage from purity culture or sexual assault.)
Fiction can help you separate feelings of arousal from feelings of guilt through intentional mental practice. (Research neural pathways.)
Fiction is a powerful tool, and in more recently published work I’ve seen an emphasis on obtaining real consent before sex—no judgement if denied—attention to contraception, and truly aspirational focus on bringing your partner pleasure. Much of what I read is by female authors, so understandably a lot of focus on female pleasure. Don’t worry, the guys get plenty of action, too. I think that women reading these stories might develop standards, and guys reading these stories, might get some fun ideas. What I’ve seen on bookish social media seems to suggest both results. Which brings me to my next points:
Fiction can provide inspiration and framework for conversation with your spouse.
Fiction may result in more and hotter sex.
Before you freak out about single people reading spicy books, remember the other points and think how those things might’ve been nice to have before marriage or a sexually active relationship.
Obviously, there is huge variety in books considered romance. Some books are really adventure or intrigue or mystery, with a romance on the side. Some books are focused entirely on romance. Some books have a lot of sex, some have a little. Sometimes it fits well with the story and plot and characters, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, the main point of the story is to get as much sex on the page as possible. Sometimes the whole story is a deep emotional exploration of how to heal from trauma, while in a sexual relationship. Sometimes the sex is just a joyful insertion *giggle*.
You don’t have to like all of these kinds of books—and you don’t even have to like sex—but I’m saying they have value. I’m saying they aren’t dirty. Because sex isn’t dirty (though, let’s be honest, it is messy). Sex is a part of life and it should be something we can talk about. There is no need for people to flounder in the dark. And there is no need for the only strong narrative (the story shown, rather than told) to be negative.
I think we need to change the language around spicy books. Don’t wrinkle your nose or avert your eyes or call them dirty or trashy. Don’t refer to books without explicit sex as clean.
I recently saw an author page suggesting we instead call books without spice chaste. And I like that, because calling them bland is far too negative and really sends the wrong message. One of my favorite series, The Queen’s Thief, has only the most oblique references to sex, which is perfect for the tone and voice of the series. It would be jarring and bizarre otherwise. Others have suggested sweet as an alternative, and I’m sitting with it trying to determine if sweet is vague enough to work. It has other connotations that definitely don’t apply across the board. Savory? Maybe. Or maybe we have to use a variety of words.
But won’t it create bad appetites?
Isn’t erotica just the same as pornography?
First, no. Second, we’re not just talking about erotica. We’re talking about positive portrayals of sex in fiction. This includes everything from guilt free observations of physical attraction to lots of explicit sex.
I’d say there are some pretty important differences between erotica and pornography. The biggest being that erotica is fiction, written by someone who wanted to write it badly enough to struggle through writing a book. No one is being exploited. No one is being sold into slavery. No one is unable to give consent.
I guess if you really throw yourself into erotica and use it as a crutch instead of valuing the relationships in your life, sure. You could get into trouble. But the same could be said for a lot of things.
If you’re worried about suddenly developing a ravening sexual appetite, just remember the words of Officer Tim Cotton of the Bangor PD, Keep your hands to yourself, Leave other people’s things alone, and be kind to one another.
If you follow those rules, I think you’ll be able to make it through life liking sex, knowing more about it works, experiencing arousal, and also not assaulting anyone.
It’s really not that difficult not to lust after someone. Just remember that they are a real live human being, they have a soul and intrinsic value as a person. Kinda takes all the fun out of objectifying them.
If you fear you are a sex addict, or a sex addict waiting to happen, I would suggest going to therapy to find out for sure and also to get help.
If I feel this way about spicy books, then why do I have a spice-o-meter?
Because I’m kind.
Because sometimes it’s nice to know what rating to expect on a book or series depending on what you’re in the mood for.
Because maybe you have a precocious 10-year-old and they aren’t ready to read books with oral sex, but they’re good with closed door/fade to black.
Because a book doesn’t have to be level 3+ explicit to treat sex and sexual attraction in a healthy way.
Because if there is one thing sex doesn’t need, is more guilt associated with it. If spicy stories aren’t your thing, I won’t judge you for it, and I’ll try to equip you to avoid what you’re not into.
The Act of Marriage and Intended for Pleasure, for those curious.
Kissing—but not hot and heavy kissing—is usually allowed. The closest I can recall to straight up positive mention of sex in Christian fiction (as in, openly stated that sex was had, rather than “Oh, look, a baby! Out of no where!”) was one of the Theone books in the Zion Covenant series, in which Elisa and Murphy “making love” is mentioned. They are married. Going through a rough patch. I also remember somewhat fraught closed door sex in a Francine Rivers book, a married couple, going through a rough patch and he later committed adultery, so…I didn’t read any of Rivers’ other books.
I’m aware that the Church talks about marriage and sex all the time. But, again, telling vs showing. And HOW they talk about sex is usually not helpful. In my experience, they mostly pile on guilt about frequency of sex in a marriage and perpetuating other harmful myths about sex drive. There are exceptions to this, of course. I once heard a pastor encourage men to show physical affection without an agenda, and women to trust him to not to have an agenda. If you’re curious about the physical affect of certain church teachings on sex, marriage, and women, I’d recommend picking up The Great Sex Rescue, an academic study.
Many of us were told, with a knowing smirk, by our elders, that we wouldn’t have any trouble figuring it out. Well, maybe if we’d grown up during the free love movement we wouldn’t have.
Here, I expect many Christians will panic, because we’ve been taught to fear arousal and equate it with lust and sin. Which is ridiculous—arousal is an involuntary body response. You can’t completely control it. It is not the same thing as lust. It is, in fact, a necessary part of have a sex drive. Being able to be aroused is a good thing. It makes sex a lot better. It is possible to quash most healthy arousal by dousing it in generous guilt and fear, so you get a nasty hormone cocktail that prevents or shortens arousal and makes orgasm difficult or impossible.
I just recently joined this site to get more book recommendations, and was intrigued by this post title. Thanks for sharing! And for taking the time to organize these thoughts well.
For the past 8 years, (starting one year into marriage and having a lot of questions) I've loved listening to the podcast "Java with Juli" from the website "Authentic Intimacy." She is a Christian woman who is bold in tackling many different sex topic conversations!
I agree with most of what you've had to say here--and I've had the same opinion for a very long time, actually.
I still struggle with exactly where the lines should be drawn and how to approach the subject, but I have to say that the church's (and my parents') abysmal handling of sex was part of what got me hooked on porn in the first place (A twenty-five year battle I've finally mostly won).
(Along those lines, the one serious disagreement I had with you was about erotica. It IS the same as porn in every meaningful way except the specific physiological effects. That's not to say all portrayals of sex have to be erotica--they don't.)
That said, now that I've got one novel on the way to publication, I'm seriously considering writing a fiction book for young adults that will center on the theme of sexual identity (and will, necessarily, contain sexual content).
I'm still groping for how to go about it.
On the one hand it's *SO* necessary and lacking. On the other, it's *SO* taboo that it's going to be impossible to get it "right." (Offending people doesn't phase me, so long as my own mind is settled about what I've done.)
I'd love to talk more about the problems attached to this whole issue with people who are interested, especially because I'm in the position I'm in with my own writing.