Equus Eroticus (1): The Case of Lady Carrington

In his short novel St Mawr, Lawrence examines a young woman's erotic and pagan fascination for a golden-red stallion, with brilliant black eyes. The horse challenges her to find something within herself that can answer to his own four-legged combination of virility and divinity and from their first encounter Lou is transfixed, transfigured, and turned-on:

"She laid her hand on his side, and gently stroked him. Then she stroked his shoulder, and then the hard, tense arch of his neck. And she was startled to feel the vivid heat of his life come through to her ... So slippery with vivid, hot life! ... Dimly, in her weary young-woman's soul, an ancient understanding seemed to flood in."

What exactly is Lou Carrington thinking of here? When Lawrence writes of this primal experience flooding into her female soul, what conclusion are we invited to arrive at other than this is essentially a carnal form of knowledge? I don't believe I'm being crassly reductive or offering a provocatively crude interpretation to insist on this fact. Rather, I think that Lawrence is deliberately flirting with the possibility of a human-horse love affair in St. Mawr (as elsewhere in his work) and that this passage is an overtly bestial piece of writing. The reason that he stresses the potent and dangerous maleness of the horse is because there is an unspoken desire for penetration.

But Lou would be right to be worried by the prospect of such. For as Bodil Joensen once warned in an interview, being fucked by a horse is always a risky business, even for those who are experienced in the practice. For not only can these powerful creatures bite and kick and suddenly thrust when excited, but at orgasm the glans of a horse's penis swells considerably and this can cause serious - if not fatal - internal damage.

Of course, having said this, Lou doesn't simply have the hots for St. Mawr. When she touches his body she feels herself brought mystically into connection with another world and another way of being; the horse answers to her need for some sense of religious wonder, as well as her desire for sexual fulfilment. When St. Mawr looks at her from out of the everlasting darkness, Lou feels he has uncanny authority over her and that she must worship him like some splendid god or demon.

In comparison, she finds her human relationships trivial and superficial; including her relationship with Rico, her husband, who is himself horse-like in his sensitivity, but forever "quivering with a sort of cold, dangerous mistrust" and fear that he attempts to mask with an anxious form of love and a clever niceness that is slowly driving Lou insane and into the hooves of St. Mawr.   

Unsurprisingly, therefore, Lou abandons Rico and runs off with her horse dreaming of a time to come when men might regain their animal mystery and nobility and become-centaur. 

- D. H. Lawrence, St. Mawr and Other Stories, ed. Brian Finney, (CUP, 1983).

Ophidicism

 Karen Heagle: Woman with Snake, (2008)

The ancient and formerly widespread practice of ophidicism, or sex with snakes, is poorly understood if the serpent is simply thought to be a phallic substitute.

For the joy of having a large python between your legs, or of feeling a small viper wriggle free from your vagina is real enough in and of itself. It is no more than human male conceit to imagine that a woman always needs a man's penis for her pleasure and fulfilment.

This is not to advocate zoophilia, or encourage women to insert limbless creatures into their bodies. But, having said that, life is short, pleasures are limited and there are certainly worse things that one might do (and worse sexual partners one might have).

Indeed, it might be argued that if we are to overcome our bad conscience and enter into a post-moral paradise in which the snake curls in peace about the ankle of Eve at last, then we will need a new understanding of our humanity and our intimate relationship with other species.

Perhaps ophidicism might play a small but vital part in this revaluation of values. And perhaps Lawrence was right to say that it will be a sign of bliss when we are finally reconciled with the serpent and brought to the fateful realization that there is nothing in this world and this life to be ashamed of.

Pegging

Many heterosexual men are disconcerted by the thought of a woman with a dildo. For not only can she penetrate herself with such, but she can penetrate them. Only with great reluctance would they submit to a partner with a strap-on who challenges conventional notions of who does what to whom. 

Their unease is related not just to the homophobic fear of accepting a cock into their anus (albeit a rubber one), but also to the wider concern with passivity which, in the male mind, is often thought of as humiliating and castrating. 

It's an old problem: one that greatly troubled the ancient Greeks. But Sade laughs at such moral anxiety and prejudice, insisting that not only are both classes of intercourse - active and passive - perfectly legitimate, but that it is the latter which ultimately affords the greatest pleasure: since one enjoys at a single stroke the sensations of before and behind.

Odysseus

Like all sirens, her love contains the salt-water certainty

of death for those who leave the safety of the shore,

or foolishly scuttle the little boat of their own

happiness.

But who would want to live a life dependent upon 

bees wax and old rope?

With his bourgeois longing for home and his

hatred of the sea, Odysseus ... disappoints!

On Sadism and the Case of Ian Brady

For a genuine sadist any form of legality is anathema and deserving of contempt; they are simply not aroused out of flaccid indifference and apathy by the thought of a consensual exercise of sexual violence. This is what makes such an individual far rarer, far more dangerous, and far more philosophically problematic than a masochist for whom cruelty is always contracted, rather than criminal.

And so it is that whilst the latter hangs about looking slightly ludicrous and self-conscious at the local fetish club, the former is out burying the bodies of murdered children on Saddleworth Moor. 

What I'm conceding here is that Simon Thomas was perhaps - perhaps - right to insist that Ian Brady cannot be ignored or dismissed simply as a bad reader.

No-Pan Kissa

Whatever the problematic sexual politics of such places, there was something undeniably charming about the Japanese coffee shops known as no-pan kissa that flourished in the 1980s, where the waitresses wore short skirts without underwear and served drinks and snacks to customers fascinated by what they saw reflected on the mirrored floors. 

Alas, such establishments rapidly declined in number as their owners made the fatal error of moving ever-further in the direction of naked truth and full-exposure: this trend terminating in the vaginal cyclorama wherein nude women would sit on the edge of a platform with their legs apart, inviting their male admirers to closely inspect their genitalia. 

As Baudrillard writes, all forms of seduction and traditional striptease pale before this spectacle of absolute obscenity and visual voracity that goes far beyond erotic playfulness towards extreme pornographic idealism. The men who pay to push their faces between open thighs and stare with mortal seriousness, never smiling or trying to touch, are participants within an orgy of realism.

The cunt, meanwhile, made monstrously visible, has simply become another empty sign in a hypersexual realm of simulation. That is to say, the object of desire is itself lost in close-up just as myopic voyeurs end by staring themselves blind. Without a little distance and ambiguity, a little secrecy and even, yes, a little romance (i.e. a metaphorical dimension) there can be no gaze, no seduction, and no sex.

Obscenity means nothing other than that the body and its sex organs are literally and often brutally shoved in your face; there is, says Baudrillard, a total acting out of things that ought to be subject if not to privacy, then to dramaturgy, a scene, a game between lovers.  

 

Bad Romance

The Fall of the House of Usher, by Kristyla at deviantart.com

What was it about incest that so obsessively fascinated the Romantics? 

Although only Byron had experience of it as a practice, the theme was imaginatively explored by many other poets, including Wordsworth and Shelley, for whom it seemed to function as a spiritual principle of absolute identification of the self with the non-self or other. 

The tragic psychodrama of Wuthering Heights, is founded upon an incestuous bond formed between Catherine and Heathcliff. For whilst they are not blood-siblings, they are nevertheless brought up as brother and sister within the Earnshaw family home. Thus their mad striving for an impossible union is somehow shocking and toxic; giving off a kind of 'chthonian miasma', as Camille Paglia writes, which infects and corrupts the social world.        

Like Emily Bronte, Edgar Allan Poe is also concerned with love, the limitations of love, and the fatal transgression of those limits. For whilst we might live by love, we die or cause death if we take love too far; be it in either a spiritual or a carnal direction. Thus, whilst it's perfectly legitimate to be interested in the object of one's affection and quite natural to want to know a good deal about the person one is perhaps planning to marry, it's profoundly mistaken to totally identify with another and attempt to suck the life out of that being. Each of us kills the thing we love most when we love with the terrible intimacy of the vampire.

In his brilliant reading of Poe, Lawrence writes:

"When the self is broken, and the mystery of the recognition of otherness fails, then the longing for identification with the beloved becomes a lust. And it is this longing for identification, utter merging, which is at the base of the incest problem."

                                                

- D. H. Lawrence, 'Edgar Allan Poe' (Final Version 1923), Studies in Classic American Literature, (CUP, 2003), p. 75.

Via incest, lovers can achieve sensational gratification with the minimum of resistance. But it gradually leads to madness, breakdown and death - as we see with Heathcliff and Catherine, or Roderick and Madeline in Poe's classic tale, The Fall of the House of Usher. Both Catherine and Madeline die having had the life and the love sucked out of them, whilst still unappeased. And so both return from the dead in order to drag their lovers with them into the grave:

"It is lurid and melodramatic, but it really is a symbolic truth of what happens in the last stages of inordinate love, which can recognise none of the sacred mystery of otherness, but must unite into unspeakable identification ... Brother and sister go down together, made one in the unspeakable mystery of death."

- D. H. Lawrence, 'Edgar Allan Poe' (First Version 1918-19), Studies in Classic American Literature, (CUP, 2003), p. 238. 

Both Poe and Emily Bronte were great writers, doomed to die young. Was it, one might ask, the same thing which ultimately killed them? For both experienced the same heightened consciousness of desire taken to its furthest extreme as they entered what Lawrence describes as the 'horrible underground passages of the human soul', grimly determined as they were to discover all that there is to know about the obscene disease that ruins so many idealists: Love. 

The Case of Jessica Ahlquist: Evil Little Thing

Christianity, we are told by its adherents, is a religion of love. And forgiveness. And understanding. A religion that prefers to turn the other cheek and to judge not. But the case of Jessica Ahlquist once more provides shocking evidence to the contrary.

A teenage student at Cranston High School West in Rhode Island, Ms Ahlquist inadvertently made herself the pin-up girl of secularists everywhere in 2012 following a successful lawsuit to remove a religious prayer banner from her school auditorium, thereby defending the United States Constitution which expressly separates church and state (those who are interested in this should take a look at the Establishment Clause in the First Amendment).

During the two years of the law suit, Ahlquist was subject to vile abuse in the media and online; received further hate mail in the post - including a number of rape and death threats - and required a police escort to and from her classes. To top it all off, on the day after Ahlquist won her ruling a Rhode Island State Representative, Peter G. Palumbo, described her on local radio as an "evil little thing".

Thankfully, she has continued to speak up as an atheist and a champion of civil liberties and has received a number of awards for her activism. Further, sales of a t-shirt produced by supporters with the words evil little thing printed on the front raised over $62,000 and this money was presented to Jessica in order to provide her with a college education fund. 

In a sense, she's our Malala, standing up to religious fanatics and insisting on her right to an education that values freedom of thought over superstition and dogma. One can only hope that she needn't take a bullet to the head before her bravery is officially recognized not only in the Playboy Mansion, but in the White House too.   

Negritude

Image from madamenoire.com

I love everything about you -

not least the impossible blackness of your skin

and the way you walk bare-foot 

at the cocktail party

arousing

a mixture of desire and disapproval

in your white host who fantasises

about your 'exotic otherness'

but fears

you might laugh 

at his nakedness.

Breast Relief for a Dying God

Madonna for Dolce and Gabbana (AW 2010)

Look! there's Jesus hanging on a little golden cross,
snuggled obscenely between a warm pair of tits.

What would his mother Mary have made of this;
or she whose embrace he so cruelly refused?

Would it have secretly satisfied them to know
how son and saviour is finally reconciled with
the softness of female flesh?