Fantasy Gone Awry

Addendum:

The penchant for tales about bestial trysts seems to be more common that we might expect.  Hence a marketplace where teens are opting for The Gargoyle And The Spinster instead of James And The Giant Peach.  Gargoyle, you say?  Yes, indeed.  Evidently, some female readers are pining for A Wolf In My Tavern…which explains the emergence of a peculiar new genre—best described as monster-smut.

As it turns out, the “shadow-daddy” trope is only the tip of a much larger iceberg.  A desire for the affections of a handsome elf is one thing; a yearning to be reamed by the enormous shaft of an actual bull is quite another.  Over the past decade (or two), a non-trivial portion of adolescent girls have been venturing further along the Barbot scale.  As a consequence, tens of thousands of American women are now reading Morning Glory Milking Farm.  In light of this, it may be time to take stock; and assess.

I’m not saying that there’s anything wrong with spooge-harvesting.  I don’t even have anything against jerking off minotaurs.  Bumbling frat-boys can be boring; so some female readers prefer to imagine something a bit more extraordinary: being shagged by a non-human stud.  We’ve come a long way from Sweet Valley High.  Upon considering this intriguing narrative twist, it is worth asking: What does this popular new genre say about current trends in reading—specifically amongst young adults?

The point of such fare, it seems, is to eschew the archetype of the submissive, doting housewife (i.e. hewing to the gender roles to which women have traditionally been assigned).  Such mores have been constraining half the world’s population for thousands of years.  Progressive story-telling flouts such antiquated conventions.  Bravo.  Yet this particular genus of story-telling leads us down a rather bizarre road…often ending in monster gang-bangs.  So instead of Beauty And The Beast, we get The Widow And The Orcs.  (Yes, that’s “orcs”: plural.  Goodness gracious.)  Welcome to the exciting new world of monster-smut: a sub-genre of “dark romance”—itself a common element of “dark fantasy”.  It is, in essence, “romantasy” with lots of weird stuff going on.  This new style of romance is not the wholesome fare of a Disney animated feature.  Rather, it involves a gamine’s long-repressed craving for a hunky Casanova with big horns and—god willing—an even bigger scrotum.

There’s no denying that such a jolting narrative has some appeal.  Each reader is invited to live vicariously through the salacious hijinks of a young lass who is—shall we say—exploring her naughty side.  This is all fine and dandy.  Yet one crucial element is lacking: ACTUAL female empowerment.  (Buyer beware: Don’t let the bestiality distract you from the vacuity.)  By the final page of these heterodox novels, the protagonist finds herself with a humanoid inamorato, stained bedsheets, and a bruised vulva.  It’s not exactly Ralph Waldo Emerson; but it’s SOMETHING.

What might explain the resounding success of this literary phenomenon?  I offer a hypothesis.  For many women, there is a two-fold longing: TO BE CONQUERED BY and TO TAME the beast.  The former is primal; the latter is romantic.  This explains the depiction of—well—lots of sex with ACTUAL beasts in a surprising number of recently-published books.

Amidst this rather eccentric plot device, a question arises: Is the penchant for (vicarious) bestiality just another manifestation of the aforementioned female fantasy; or is there something else is going on here?

We have only so much time to read; so our selection of books reveals a hierarchy of priorities.  What motivates us?  What inspires us?  This plays a role in what sort of material draws us in.  What makes a narrative compelling?  Satisfying?  It is no longer adequate to be wooed by a good-looking gentleman with promising career prospects; female readers want to immerse themselves in a scandalous tale about a swain with quivering loins who—as fate would have it—finds herself being courted by a hybrid species with rippling abs and a gigantic schlong.

Splendid.

But what else does such fare hold in store for the hapless reader?  Titillating banality.  Minimal mental effort; quick and easy pay-off; another hit of dopamine.  My point: Once we get past all the frothy drool and jiz-battered uvulas, it might be nice to explore more thoughtful themes—be it how to overcome the ennui of an exasperatingly mundane life or contend with the depredations of late-stage capitalism.  One can’t help but wonder: Is reading about a maiden chugging bull semen an effective way to deal with existential despondency?  Might there be alternatives?

Most young adults are worried about paying bloated student loans, securing a dependable job, and keeping up with next month’s rent.  It makes sense, then, that a little bit of escapism might offer a temporary reprieve from life’s tribulations.  Fantasy is an effective way to do this.  But we must pose the question: Is monster-smut the optimal route to take?  The jury is out.  Many female readers find themselves asking: If the goal is ONLY titillation, then why not indulge in some erotica…even if the trysts don’t always involve homo sapiens?

Caveat: It is possible that—if one really really tries—one can find some didactic value to Morning Glory Milking Farm—perhaps a metaphor for the exploitation of labor (the commodification—and thus dehumanization—of workers) endemic to a hyper-capitalist society.  But this is somewhat of a stretch…requiring lots of eisegesis.  The depredations of the gig-economy have little to do with harvesting spooge from mythical creatures.  (Receiving minimum wage for thankless jobs is more about being a cog in a merciless, profit-maximizing corporate machine than it is about having a torrid love-affair with a sympathetic brute with dreamy, brown eyes and a massive cock.)  After all is said and done, there’s nothing especially groundbreaking here.  Erotic anime cornered the market for industrialized masturbation four decades ago.  And monetizing kink dates back to the dawn of human civilization.

So WHAT OF monster-smut?  It is quite telling that the love-interest works as a monster only insofar as he is imbued with humanity.  In most cases, we find that the appeal of the love-interest is not just his hulking anatomy, but his capacity to be loyal, empathetic, and affectionate.  Given this distinctive narrative pattern, it is worth exploring the underlying psychological mechanisms at play.  The attraction of the (oft-cartoonish) characters in these stories reminds us of the different carnal proclivities of men and women.  The former are primarily aroused VISUALLY (hence the preponderance of porn-watching); the latter are primarily aroused EMOTIONALLY (hence a preference for captivating narratives).  But it’s safe to say that associating pleasure with monsters is not exactly…well…ideal; be it for girls or for boys.  (Lest we forget, men have been drooling over non-human seductresses for thousands of years—from buxom succubi to busty sprites.  The difference is that the appeal of these humanoid vixens is strictly AESTHETIC.)

Exoticism has always had an allure.  I dare say, though, that preferring intimacy with monsters over humans is not the most salubrious disposition…for either men or women.  (It is just as dubious when men expect their beau to be a servile pixie with a tiny waste and oversized bust.  There must be no double standards in our assessment.)  The concern, then, is the channeling of libidinal impulses in anti-social ways.  Disaffected, lonely men aren’t scrambling for customizable A.I. porn because they’re looking for a deep, meaningful human connection.  Likewise, women aren’t swooning over debonair centaurs because they already have a fulfilling relationship with a real-life beau.  Authenticity is entirely beside the point; it’s the efficacy of the emulation that counts.

In assaying this beguiling literary trend, it’s important to be charitable; as it reflects a very real social phenomenon that is to be understood rather than mocked.  Given the aforementioned psychological realities, the predilection for monster-sex ALMOST makes sense.  Heck; if a book spurs imagination, then everything should be hunky-dory.  Right?  Well, I guess.  I just take pause when I catch wind of a teen girl speculating about a man-bison pumping her virginal cooch full of his copious load as he yanks on her pig-tails.  (Clean-up on aisle 5.)  I suspect that there are more salutary sexual fantasies on offer—those that are more in keeping with healthy sexual encounters between consenting (human) adults.  Does my skepticism here stem from a puritanical mindset?  Hardly.  Indeed, a critical response to this new reading trend isn’t so much a matter of pearl-clutching as it is a concern for the susceptibilities—and follies—of adolescence.

So here we are: We’ve gone from the maiden wanting to be saved from the dragon to the maiden wanting to get fucked by the dragon.  This may be a sort of transference—that is: transference of secretly-desired toxic masculinity onto an object-of-affection that, in not being human, ameliorates the cognitive dissonance that invariably ensues after having (rightly) DENOUNCED toxic masculinity…even as the arousal persists.  This audacious narrative twist amounts to a free pass for guilt-free enjoyment of machismo, which has been shorn of the moral concerns germane to HUMANS.  To wit: One needn’t abandon one’s feminism in order to have a dalliance with NON-homo sapiens.

And so it goes: With monster-smut, any hint of pseudo-feminist hypocrisy is magically erased.  (After all, no woman has ever been betrayed by a centaur.  So hey!  Why not give it a whirl?)  To recapitulate: The “shadow-daddy” trope has its appeal in that it offers an alluringly mysterious love-interest with glistening muscles, towering virility, and piercing eyes.  Behold a stud-muffin who, while slightly dangerous (yummy!), actually CARES (hallelujah!)  These character traits emulate the sexy “bad-boy” motif that has been operative in love stories since the Bronze Age.  So what’s the problem?

Well…as we venture further along the Barbot scale, the humanity of the love-interest is sacrificed on the altar of kink.  That’s not necessarily a good thing.  Be that as it may, it is not nearly as bad as seeing teen girls reading some of the dreck mentioned earlier in this essay.  (The trash-pulp of Sarah J. Maas makes reading monster-smut seem like reading Charles Dickens by comparison.)  Is the partiality for non-human characters a natural progression from the use of animals children’s lit (e.g. The Wind In The Willows, Charlotte’s Web, and The Cricket In Time’s Square)?  It’s no secret that many outgrow the (jejune) taste for talking animals that made so much sense during childhood.  There comes a point in our lives when it’s time to move on.

How much of this boils down to personal taste?  Admittedly, some reading is an acquired taste (consider the limited appeal of, say, The Sound And The Fury or Infinite Jest).  While we mustn’t disparage genres that we happen not to OURSELVES enjoy (grimdark, cyberpunk, and magical realism aren’t for everyone), there is still room for objective analysis…when it comes to literature qua literature.  It is in this vain that I express some compunctions about monster-smut.

So what of “spice”?  Even some libertines might balk at “dark romances” that feature a vaguely humanoid entity as the paramour.  One doesn’t have to be a priggish schoolmarm to suppose that there are better alternatives to this particular literary fetish—alternatives that push all the right buttons without having to resort to bestial escapades.  In most YA material, “spice” is entirely gratuitous; and even incommensurate with the narrative.  (It makes sense that Susan Pevensie didn’t want to hump Aslan behind the hedges when nobody was looking.)  Erotica has its place; but that place isn’t everywhere.

While we all loved non-human characters in our youth (Winnie-the-Pooh, Black Beauty, Stuart Little, etc.), I venture to say that it might be somewhat of a misstep to mix eroticism with anthropomorphism.  (Gosh-golly, what else was George “curious” about?)  The prospect of sexual congress with a charming demon may be intriguing; but—in the grand scheme of things—it has limited purchase.

The inclusion of monster-smut doesn’t suddenly become prudent simply because readers have reached adolescence.  There are better ways weave a captivating yarn, even when putting our lascivious predispositions on full display—as the Marquis de Sade demonstrated with Juliette over two centuries ago.  Talking animals are always a nice touch.  Note to authors: sex is all-the-more poignant when it isn’t over-done.  In the rare instance it DOES occur in the story, it’s a pleasant surprise (see Simmons’ Hyperion).  Otherwise, it becomes tedious (see Suzanne Wright’s “The Phoenix Pack” series).  A promiscuous use of erotic content dilutes the impact of the scene.  This makes what should be titillating tedious instead.  (The same goes for violence: When over-done, it becomes banal; see McCarthy’s Blood Meridian.)  So go ahead and feature non-human characters in your fantastical tale, but leave Baloo’s dick out of it.  (The bear necessities can only go so far.)

When done well, erotica tends to involve homo sapiens; and that’s a good thing.  It seems unlikely that monster-smut would be the next phase in literary evolution from Peter Rabbit.  Prudence isn’t always about being prudish.  One can introduce poignancy into one’s narrative without a profusion of “spice”.

To conclude: It is worth inquiring: How much sense does it make to retain the puerility of talking animals when we graduate to adult content?  I suspect there are better and worse ways to go about said evolution.  Alas.  Gone are the days of Orwell’s Animal Farm.  We’ve entered a brave new world of philandering Fae overlords, gallant werewolves, and suave vampires…with a “spice” level surpassing that of habaneros.  Where does this leave us?  Time will tell.  Is this a passing fad, or a harbinger of things to come?  That’s anyone’s guess.  One thing we can say for certain: Monster-smut is more a gimmick than a serious exploration of romantic love.  And it comes with a panoply of potential drawbacks.

Prevailing trends are a reflection of the public psyche; so we should always take note of the latest fads, and see what impels them.  This requires critical reflection more than alarmism.

When it comes to this particular fad, we might wonder what is attracting so much attention.  To reiterate: Even many teen girls are drawn to this popular new genre.  So they find themselves opting for Kiss Of A Demon King rather than A Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man.  Okey-dokey.  But…even as we remain open-minded, we should ask ourselves: To what extent is this kind of content transplanting good literature…about HUMANS?  There’s only so much time to read; and how we allocate that time tells us a lot about our priorities.