Posh porn

The Telegraph published an article about the current pro-sex feminism trend in literature. It reminds me of a local writer whose marketing campaign is very much centered around the question: Is it autofiction, or not?

What’s with the prostitute-turned-writer trend, and why is it so successful? (My blog gets lots of hits every week for people looking for « photos of N.A. » because I mentioned her once.) The article from The Telegraph quotes someone who comes up with an interesting explanation :

« Women will see her book as quite a fun thing to have, » predicts Pelling, who publishes a monthly extract in The Erotic Review. « It’s going to spark a lot of debates. Is she, isn’t she, would you do that? There are very few women who haven’t at some time or other imagined a scenario in which you find that is the only way you could make a living and entertained the idea, ‘What would that be like, if that was the only way I could make money?’ I think, it’s rather a common thought process, probably like men thinking, ‘What would it be like if I had to go away to war?’ »

(linked via Bookslut)

To do

The big task list for this weekend:

-Finish reading Scrapbook.

-Finalize travel itinerary and book accomodations for next week’s trip to the world’s number 2 travel spot (according to this scorecard, in pdf).

-Catch up on chick flicks with a friend (one overrated, one painful).

-Plant some bulbs for the first time in my life. Chase squirrels for the next month.

-Eat more apples.

-Buy a cord of wood and stack it up without getting splinters.

-Make a fancy knot in Spiff’s leash so he stops escaping once and for all.

-And what was the last item again? Duh, I forgot.

Tomber dans les pommes

Quelle belle semaine d’automne parfaite! J’�changerais tout un �t� pour avoir deux mois complets de ce genre de temp�rature.

C’est la fin de semaine parfaite pour aller aux pommes! Nous en avons profit� la semaine derni�re et depuis, on ne mange que des pommes: tarte pommes et chocolat (d�cadente), compote, salades, etc. Les m�decins se tiennent loin, loin de nous.