Oh, God—say it ain’t so. A dreadful massacre is in the offing. The culprit?
Smug faddists in the publishing industry who look at E.L. James’ Fifty Shades of Grey and drool like a bunch of kangaroos in the bush.
The Indian Express is reporting that Clandestine Classics will rewrite a sticky handful of classics, such as Pride and Prejudice, with erotic twists and more-than-suggestive language. The move signals another inevitable step in the changing of the guard: real books are dying en masse and being reincarnated as sniveling caricatures or mash-ups.
The classics are getting a sexy facelift. And a serious rubdown.
Gone are the days of Elizabeth and Darcy exercising timidity, restraint, and of the author using intimation. Say hello to Darcy’s laser-like stare effecting in Lizzy, by force of suggestion, a tumultuous orgasm that shakes her core—and, by extension, Mrs. Bennet’s rosewood-inlaid Regency table!
Gone are the days of Sherlock’s icy detachment and Watson’s uneasy chumminess. Now we have Sherley pounding Watson in the baker right after he shoots up a gram of the smooth shit he scored off of Pepe in Knightsbridge. During the Olympics.
Here is the publisher’s blurb on the retelling of that Brontë book no one really reads anymore:
This stern, unyielding man brooks no refusal and demands all of what Jane has to offer as he invites her on a journey of the senses that would scandalise society. He demands her abject surrender. In his strong and athletic arms, Jane submits to his darkest desires and discovers hers are every bit as searing, plunging her into a world she never suspected and never wants to escape.
You’re darn right. If it doesn’t have scandalizing sex in it, what’s the point of reading it?
This new development is seen by many as a ploy to capitalize on the success of a series that has lit the loins of the American-speaking world by tossing equal parts confection and cayenne together in amateurish array.
I guess I’m the the snob throwing a wet blanket on the party. That’s probably true. I’m just tired of getting wet-willied by an industry that spits on quality and sells stultiloquence.
Still, I’ll try to keep things in perspective. Any reading, even if it’s crap, is better than no reading at all, right? If it takes soft-core porn to interest mommies in Fiction, well, then that’s what it takes. Count your blessings. Then say a prayer.
