G E O F F . D Y E R
'She sat on the toilet, squelching and farting his come from her arse.'
In a sustained moment of weakness I let my editor have his way - he said he
came over all 'squeamish' - and deleted this charming sentence from
my novel Paris Trance. I've regretted it ever since.
A little context will explain why. Luke and Nicole have just had sex, anal
sex, and it's all been very tender and nice - a far cry from the famously
brutalising encounter in Mailer's 'The Time of Her Time'. So tender, in fact,
that they don't feel awkward or embarrassed about the inevitable - but, in
sexual fantasies, always ignored - aftermath in the
bathroom. And that lost sentence with its two (if I say it myself) exquisitely
chosen verbs speaks volumes about their ongoing, unflinching intimacy. Without
it, I fear, the scene has about it some of the coyness of soft porn.