It's that time of year again! The Literary Review's Bad Sex Awards are upon us, and 2010's clutch of sex scenes is so irremediably ghastly that critics now wonder if it is even possible to write a good one. Here's Arifa Akbar in the Independent:
For all the vituperation at authors who get it wrong, there appears to be little consensus on how to get it right. Some writers follow the forensic language of anatomy, others adopt metaphor and euphemism, while opponents of literary sex shun it for crass approximations with pornography.
Indeed, it turns out that when Auberon Waugh instituted the award, it was intended to reward excellence, and was conceptually inverted only when said excellence was not found.
Here are this year's nominees. Among those who publicly hoped, but failed, to reach the final cohort was Tony Blair's PR man, Alistair Campbell, to whom one would think descriptions of unpleasant sex would come naturally. The winner will be announced today.
