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* "Re: Proof reading sex stories" by M.M. Twassel (sexy story
about not having sex) 10, 10, 10
* "Re: Proof reading sex stories" by M.M. Twassel (Mmtwassel@aol.com). I recently received an e-mail message that stated: "Having been a fan of Deirdre for quite some time, I was pleased to recently discover some Celestial Reviews of her stories. Anyone who has read these reviews should know that Celeste has a theory about Deirdre, namely that she is the reincarnation of Sherwood Anderson. Not having ever read anything by Anderson, I wasn't sure what the reference was about (alas, I only majored in British literature!), but working in a library has it's advantages. I looked up Anderson in a series on American writers, and found this very interesting commentary in 'American Writers: A Collection of Literary Biographies' that fits Deirdre's stories perfectly. Celeste, you're a genius!" Here's the Anderson excerpt: "The uncertain, groping narrator of an Anderson story employs an art of suggestion to articulate his search for pattern and meaning in human existence. His experiences are fragmentary, incoherent, inexplicable. The chronological sequence of time may be interrupted and reversed by memories, inadvertent thoughts, gusts of emotion, and frustrated attempts at comprehension. Objects and people are haphazardly perceived.... Absurdly helpless, the narrator may succumb to impotence, give vent to explosive stirrings in his subconscious, flee the envelope of his body in mystical anguish or ecstasy, obsessedly focus upon trivialities such as a bent finger... Since the story is an articulation of the narrator's experience, its movement is repetitive and circular: it is not rounded off with a meaningful conclusion, for that would violate the narrator's integrity, his stance of wonder and search." My correspondent subsequently posted his message to a.s.s., where it evoked the following response from a critic named Dabasir: "What a crock of shit! Deirdre's stories are simply something to get off with. In closing I would just like to say that your classic interpretation of Sherwood Anderson can be summed up simply. He rambles on stupidly much like Adolf Hitler does in "Mein Kampf". Thanks for listening and have a GREAT day! =) Before I relate this correspondence to the present story, let me first retract anything that may have been construed as pejorative or derogatory toward librarians in the preceding review (of D.B.'s "Fantasy"). I certainly disagree with the classification of librarians as the only people lower on the sex- chain than English teachers - even though my correspondent referred to me as a mere "genius" rather than by my more rightful title of "sex goddess." Mr. Dabasir may be right that Sherwood rambles on stupidly much like Adolf Hitler does in "Mein Kampf." {I wouldn't touch with a twelve-inch cock what that venerable social critic Marge Schott recently said about Mr. Hitler in the esteemed literary journal Sports Illustrated.} My suspicion is that Dabasir (a) was subjected to a really bad teacher who mandated Sherwood Anderson as a routine class assignment and (b) prefers cryptic stories about sex slavery, mind control, and anal sex to those about eggs, unlighted lamps, and death in the woods. I can't say that I blame him. Prior to my exposure to this newsgroup, I myself had never had an orgasm while reading Anderson; and even in the past year and a half the sexual pleasantries I have experienced while reading Winesburg have resulted more from the classical conditioning of my husband than from the content of the stories. {I also think it is distinctly possible that Dabasir - whom I thank for writing and to whom I wish a great day! =) has confused Sherwood Anderson with Henry James, who was indeed a horse's ass.} What I object to is Dabasir's statement that "Deirdre's stories are simply something to get off with." No, it's not the preposition at the end of the sentence, which is something I can put up with. There are numerous postings on alt.sex.stories that are "simply something to get off with"; and indeed it may be possible - and even probable, desirable, and enjoyable - to get off with Deirdre's stories. But the fact is that Deirdre writes extremely well. I would summarize her work by saying that she artistically expresses ideas and feelings which shyness and conventionality keep most people from acknowledging publicly or perhaps even to themselves. I took the last 19 words of the preceding sentence from a critique of Anderson by a professor from Columbia University; so the similarity is probably real. I don't want to shock anyone, but I don't really believe that Deirdre is Sherwood Anderson reincarnated. I think she's a damned good writer whose style reminds me of Anderson's. The difference between Deirdre and the typical wannafucks and mindless "true" stories on a.s.s. is that she writes well. Her style makes her stories erotic in a mysterious sort of manner. Her style also makes it more likely that a simple shepherd yearning for his true love or a college kid prepping for a hot date will be able to experience the emotions and feelings intended by the author. Bad authors take a hot idea and fuck it up so badly that people who "weren't there" think they have wasted their time by reading the story. Deirdre, on the other hand, takes some really improbable ideas that she herself has never even experienced and expresses them in such a way that readers buy into her stories and vicariously experience the feelings and emotions themselves. That's what good writers are supposed to do. In my opinion some other writers do this even better than Deirdre, and they use techniques that don't remotely resemble Deirdre's or Anderson's. But the way they write certainly makes a huge difference. Or as Nathaniel Hawthorne once put it, "Easy reading is damned hard writing." The present author also writes extremely well. This is one of the best stories I have read this year - but then, this year is only four days old. In fact, this is one of the best stories I have read in a very long time. It's written in the format of a letter to me (Celeste), seeking advice regarding sex stories. The purported correspondent is a naive college student whose sexual experience has consisted of inept masturbation and reading stories posted on this newsgroup. He has met and befriended a beautiful classmate in his philosophy class; and in a misguided attempt to impress her, he has told her that he writes sex stories for the Internet. The ostensible purpose of the letter to Celeste is to seek advice regarding his dilemma (he really cannot write sex stories), but the actual result is a highly erotic and sometimes hilariously sexy story. The "letter" addresses several questions to Celeste, most of which I won't attempt to answer here. At this point I'll simply state that "pre-cum" usually does contain a hyphen. In addition, I might add that "proofreading" is usually one word. As for how the narrator should have escaped from his dilemma - I'll leave that up to the imagination of the reader - or perhaps to a second Letter to Celeste. By putting this review in the context of a discussion of Deirdre, I have managed to give the story the emphasis and dignity bestowed by a lengthy critique. I hope you read and enjoy this delightful story, which resembles neither Sherwood Anderson nor Adolf Hitler. On the other hand, J.D. Sallinger might have altered his style just a little.... Ratings for Re: Proof reading sex stories" Athena (technical quality): 10 Venus (plot & character): 10 Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10 |