I’d like to introduce you to the critical concept of ‘Orientalism.’ The word stems from a book, with the same title, written in 1978 by Edward Said. It is one of the foundational texts of the Post-Colonial criticism movement. You’re wondering how it relates to Monster Porn – I can tell – but it can relate to all sort of erotica involving non-humans, including mythical creatures, the undead and the post-human.
To explain it in a very short, shabby fashion, Orientalism concerns the West’s imperial conquest and colonization of other parts of the world, especially Asia and Africa, between the 18th and 20th Centuries. Europe in particular, but North America later, gave themselves permission to act brutally and oppressively by reasoning that these peoples were inferiors: ignorant, superstitious, uncivilized, bestial. But at the same time, they used that alienness, that otherness, as a site on which to project their own baser, socially unacceptable desires. Especially in the area of sexuality, these others, these ‘natives of far off lands’ and ‘strange cultures with strange customs’ were freer in their sexualities, more libidinous and less inhibited in their erotic indulgences than we, controlled and civilized, Westerners were. Jacques Lacan, the French psychoanalyst, would go on to theorize that this was an interesting aspect of ‘the jouissance of the Other’ always being more perfect than our own. That this projection of desires set up a hate/lust relationship. Despising the other for their lack of civility while envying them and fantasizing about their erotic freedoms.
In the 19th Century, a slew of semi-pornographic works were produced, both visual and textual, romanticizing the rapacious habits of Arab Sheiks, the sexual excess of the dark markets of the Casbah, the insatiable lust of African tribal chieftains and the lack of modesty and shocking promiscuity of Fijian women. Although presented as anthropological evidence, they were, it is argued, projections of our own repressed sexual desires. Moreover, it often gave colonizers the excuse to behave in ways they wouldn’t behave at home. In my part of the world, early French writers on the peoples of Indochina remarked how difficult it was to tell apart the men from the women. How easy it was to end up in a homosexual embrace by mistake(!), since they all looked the same. You’d think the penis might give it away, but apparently not.
It seems to me that the allure, in fiction, of vampires, were-lovers, Bigfoot, mermen and Cthulu-style characters is basically serving the same function. They are all ‘others.’ Because they don’t belong to our species, they serve as a site of projected fantasy for the excesses we don’t allow ourselves to consider with lovers of our own species. It is well-known that the undead can fuck you eight ways to Friday without getting tired, or getting you pregnant. You just know anything with fur, either chimera or evolutionary throwback, is going to be hung like a horse and animalistically horny. Their passion, to put it purply, has no bounds. And then there is the fantasy-species to beat them all – tentacle-sporting seafood. A woman might have moral problems fantasizing about taking three different human cocks at the same time and might be too politically correct to fantasize about a gang bang rape but, goodness, all those tentacles are simply genetically programmed to quest for orifices! And there’s nothing you can do about it!
Now, post 9/11, when it seems unpatriotic to fantasize about being ravished by Arabian princes (plus it turns out that their harems are more a hotbed of political intrigue rather than the setting for massive fuck fests); now that we are know ‘better’ than to fantasize about being kidnapped and sexually degraded by Thai pirates (because it’s so unfeminist and insulting to the victims of actual rape); now that we are repeatedly told that our fantasies are dangerous and will send messages to real men that we actually like being raped; we’ve had to resort to projecting our sexual fantasies onto cryptozoological beings.
And anyway, they love each other. What apparently makes all this lust permissible is the unavoidable presence of a love story as part of the plot. For some reason, readers will give themselves permission to find their erotic stimulation in all sorts of hairy, bestial, undead or multi-phallused couplings as long as there’s a romance to enclose the whole sticky shebang in an altruistic envelope of love. The truth is, I’d probably be an avid consumer of this sort of erotic material if it wasn’t for the pernicious and ubiquitous romance element. But apparently it is impossible for a lot of women to freely indulge in their sexual fantasies without it.
Unfortunately for me, both as a reader and a writer of erotic material, I can’t sustain the appropriate suspension of disbelief when the heroine is actually forced to fall in love with the object of her sexual desire. I love the idea of tentacle sex. I’ve even written some. But I have no particular problem with taking my pleasure, offering a polite thanks, and leaving satisfied and slightly bow-legged. For me, the prospect of the romantic element turns it from transgressive eroticism and deep into horror territory. Fucking Cthulu is hot. Marrying Cthulu puts me right off.
Another aspect of this brand of erotica that I think is worth mentioning is that, unlike Christian Grey (although I have some pretty good arguments for why FSOG actually qualifies as monster porn, i.e. Twenty something billionaires are about as thin on the ground as sexually rampant octipi) Bigfoot isn’t going to make any judgements about your looks. Like Chthulu, and a pride of werelions, no one in these stories gives a damn what your ass looks like in those jeans. They just want to fuck. They like you fat, thin, tall, short, flat-chested or busty, blonde or brunette. It’s all the same to them. As long as you have body with orifices they can plunder, you’re not going to get judged for your conformity to some ramp-model ideal. After all, who are they to judge? They’ve got hairy ears or tentacles.
So, what’s my point? Well, I think the rise in ‘Monster Porn’ is an interesting thing. I think it says a lot about women’s erotic desires. It tells me that we feel the need to project our desires onto the ‘other’ because we judge our own to be unworthy, unseemly, perverse. And there’s no point in mourning that. It’s a reality. Society drowns us in sexual imagery for the purpose of marketing, but slaps down Miley Cyrus. We live in an intensely hypocritical society. These are mixed messages that women are, historically, very adept at reading. So we find our perversions where and in whatever form we can.
It’s not just women giving themselves permission, or liberating themselves. Monster and tentacle erotica is a powerful venue for some men as well. It allows them to identify with, or _as_ the rapacious, primal ‘other’, safe in the impossibility of the physical action. Having written my share of it, I know this to be true.
I know there’s been much written on the rise of monster and especially tentacle erotica in Japanese culture as a result of the ban on explicit depictions of penises. But currently, when tiny lines or pixelations serve as “censorship” of offending organs, those rules really exist only in spirit now. Yet the tentacle subculture thrives on. My bet is the demand is driven by both men and women for similar, and opposed reasons.
Yes, I can fully accept that. My gut says that the men’s version probably eschews the romance part, though. I need to do more slumming on the net.
Very much so. What I’ve written (and in fact most monster/alien/etc. erotica I’ve read from men – and women) doesn’t involve romance at all. You don’t need to love my pseudopods/tendrils/impossibly long and prehensile phalli. You just need to take them.
I think the monster romances are in essential ways a mainstreaming of what used to be very very fringe stuff.
I think it’s more complicated than just mainstreaming. I think that the romance acts in a way to ‘organize’ the jouissance. It hermetically wraps the obscene in the emotionally permissable.
To expand on Raz’s comment, I know a few men who love dog-woman sex stories because a woman who is insatiable enough to fuck a dog is excitingly attractive, but not threatening because it’s a dog, and he doesn’t have to risk not satisfying her himself.
Agreed, but in this case, I would argue that the ‘othering’ is not of the dog, but of the woman. And really, that is far more like the female Christian Grey fantasy. The object of desire is well-nigh an impossible. This both allows for the investment of erotic dreams, and keeps us safe from their real enactment.
Thank you for this! A very interesting look at why I probably found your tentacle sex piece so tantalizing! Hadn’t thought of the Orientalism aspect of monster porn… but reading your post, it makes sense. There is a lot of othering in my fantasies.
I think there’s a lot of ‘othering’ in everyone’s fantasies. And the whole ‘othering’ thing has a bad reputation, but I honestly don’t think it is possible to avoid it. Sexual fantasy is the place where we get to ‘use’ the objects of our sexual desire for our erotic entertainment. I certainly don’t think it necessarily follows that we will do this to real people.
RG,
Many fine points, the “unknown” element seems to always intrigue us to no end, sparks the human imagination. I recall years ago when attending grade school the “new boy” would move in and it confused me when I heard statements from the girls like, “He’s so cute.” “He’s from California!” and the boys would mention things like , “He going to help us get to state.”, “He played in a band.” “His uncle drives in the Indy 500.” The admiration and curiousity for the “newby” was always and still is a bit confusing to me because I see it as an adult as well. In the work force a company many times will consider a grand looking resume’ from an outsider over a proven performer in house.
In the modern world after we generally learn these people from far away lands are people, though culturally different, are simply people to the core and possess the same issues as everyone else. Reality hits, causing us to reach for the viagra of tenticles. Afterall, one can only imagine the drama that would take place in the shieks harem, frightening for me to think about. That’s obviously not the majority’s position, we must have our dramatic love story!
~TFP
I also love the idea, but you have to be so careful these days not to cross the barrier, but all the best stuff does normally cross the barrier. You can’t please everyone.
No, I really don’t have to be careful. That’s my point.
Interesting article on the hookah, the harem, and Orientalist “othering”– http://www.library.utoronto.ca/moorish/smoking/kalmar%20houkah.htm
In my consentacle fantasy, the octopus celebrates the sexual appetite of the woman. She surrenders the vastness of her need, and he fills every orifice.
I posted the photo-realistic Dorian Clevenger painting on my Tumblr.
I haven’t read Monster porn or romance (unless Janine Ashbless’ excellent Minotaur story counts) but I think the element of romance would put me off. I’m a true bleeding heart liberal but I find it difficult to accept people who want to marry their livestock, pets or cars. I just don’t agree with cross species marriage, or marriage to an inanimate object. If you want to fuck it in the privacy of your own stable or garage, I’m not going to object. I doubt the livestock cares, or perhaps domestic beasts like serving their owners. I hope they don’t find it distasteful but we do all kinds of terrible things to animals. Having sex with one seems more benign than murdering them for their meat. And yes, I eat meat. I suppose if you are madly in love with your car and don’t get your dick stuck in the tailpipe or your vagina stuck on the gear shift, where’s the harm. But to claim true love and seek “marriage” with these objects of affection strikes me as fantastical.
If I do read monster erotica, which I probably won’t because I just don’t have the time to do so and it doesn’t particularly appeal to me as a genre, it’s not going to make me feel more comfortable because there’s a supposedly deep emotional connection between the monster and the human. It makes more sense to me to choose a beast or a car or a tree or whatever to fuck without guilt than to make love to it and claim that the love is reciprocal. I can’t suspend my disbelief (and I’m really good at suspending my disbelief) to that extreme. Thanks RG. The link to Orientalism is thought-provoking, but your work always is. What a mind!
Fantastic essay, I am a huge fan of Edward Said’s work and love how you draw monster porn into his orientialism theory, very well argued.