Bad Sex Prize
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Time for some literary novelist to be chosen as the writer of the years worst sexual prose.
December, for the British novelist, brings the threat of the sort of sexual humiliation once reserved for fornicators in an age when wrong-doers spent a day in the stocks. …
The purpose of the prize, we’re told, is “to draw attention to the crude, tasteless, often perfunctory use of redundant passages of sexual description in the modern novel, and to discourage it.
Who wants a bad sex prize panting hot on their neck?
