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14 Feb 2018

Siderodromophilia (A Post for Valentine's Day)

The Simpsons (S4/E15): 
Lisa's card to Ralph


I've written elsewhere on this blog about objectum sexuality with reference to the fascinating case of Erika Eiffel [click here]. But I don't believe I've specifically mentioned the love of trains, or siderodromophilia as it is known amongst those who are in the know.

So, since it's Valentine's Day - and since I'm always happy to discuss fetishistic forms of desire and kinky romantic attachment (which may or may not incude an erotic component) - I thought I'd get on board with this topic here and now, giving locomotive lovers their fifteen minutes of critical attention.

All siderodromophiles are, to a greater or lesser extent, physically excited by trains; be they life-sized engines or Hornby scale models; powered by steam or electricity; stationary or rattling along the tracks.

Some are aroused simply by images of trains, or films featuring trains - such as The Lady Vanishes (1938) or Murder on the Orient Express (1974). Others like to be actual passengers and achieve sexual gratification by fucking in a private compartment, or, rather less salubriously, in one of the toilets. As one siderodromophile of my acquaintance told me:

"Travelling in style and comfort on a sleeper train - with or without a partner - is always a highly sexual experience thanks to the gentle back-and-forth rocking motion and the clickety-clack sound of the wheels on the tracks. Who needs the Mile High Club?"

We should, I suppose, also mention those who get their thrills via non-consensual acts on trains, such as rubbing up against fellow passengers or indecently exposing themselves. Arguably, however, frottage - like exhibitionism - deserves to be analysed as a practice in and on its own terms and shouldn't be seen as in anyway an essential component of siderodromophilia.  

Finally, it's important to point out that this particular paraphilia is as old as the history of trains themselves - that it's certainly not something peculiar to our age. Thus, for example, we discover that the decadent anti-hero of Huysmans's magnificent novel À Rebours - published in 1884 - is, amongst other things, something of a siderodromophile.

Women, he concedes, are a natural wonder who possess "the most perfect and original beauty". But, having said that, there's nothing anywhere on this earth to compare to the dazzling and outstanding beauty of the two locomotives that have caught his eye:

"One of these ... is an adorable blonde with a shrill voice, a long slender body imprisoned in a shiny brass corset ... whose extraordinary grace can be quite terrifying when she stiffens her muscles of steel, sends the sweat pouring down her steaming flanks, sets her elegant wheels spinning in their wide circles and hurtles away, full of life, at the head of an express train.
      The other ... is a strapping saturnine brunette given to uttering raucous, gutteral cries, with a thick-set figure encased in armour-plating of cast iron; a monstrous creature with her dishevelled mane of black smoke and her six wheels coupled together low down, she gives an indication of her fantastic strength when, with an effort that shakes the very earth, she slowly and deliberately drags along her heavy train of goods-wagons."    

Des Esseintes concludes:

"It is beyond question that, among all the fair, delicate beauties and all the dark, majestic charmers of the human race, no such superb examples of comely grace and terrifying force are to be found ..."

The irony is, that, as a homotextual whose pleasure is derived from fine writing, even though I don't have the slightest interest in trains, I find these passages extremely arousing ... 

Happy Valentine's Day to lovers everywhere in all their splendidly queer difference!  


See: Joris-Karl Huysmans, Against Nature, trans. Robert Baldick, (Penguin Books, 2003), pp. 23-24. 

Surprise musical bonus: click here.  


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