Best Fantastic Erotica, edited by Cecilia Tan

Best Fantastic Erotica combines nineteen stories from authors in the United States, Australia, and the UK into a volume that contains all the things most submission guidelines specifically forbid. And I do mean all so readers be warned: this is not for the shy or conservative. Do not leave it laying around the house for the kids to find or on your desk at work. In fact, if you are squeamish or in a sensitive place, don’t even read this review.

I feel compelled to put my main criticism up front, lest you be turned off by what is, in my opinion, an unfortunate choice of cover art. The curly-haired female Caucasian beauty gazing, with lips pursed, come hither, over a naked, bruised (or tattooed) shoulder is ridiculous for an anthology that contains characters of both genders and a variety of races, ages, ethnic groups, and sexual orientations. This stereotypical sex kitten display does no justice to the fine stories within and does nothing to attract the wider audience of readers that Best Fantastic Erotica deserves.

The lead story “Monsoon” by Arinn Dembo gets my vote for the finest piece in this anthology, written in the lush, exotic style of Ian McDonald’s 2007 Hugo Award Winner “The Djinn’s Wife.” “Monsoon” follows Benton, an American photo journalist on a trek through India, with an overdue rain under a “burning sky clapped tight like the lid of a tandoor oven.”

Benton has a thing for women:

He always devoured them greedily when he was abroad. He couldn’t capture the flavor of a place until he made love there.

A polite voyeur, Benton lusts but knows the limits and, when he finds himself a guest in a home, respects the efforts of a woman and her daughter who provide him with food and a place to sleep. But the stranger who visits him during the night, as the monsoon finally hits, knows just what Benton needs and wants. And when she leaves in the morning, he learns her name, Neha, means two things in Hindi—love or rain.

Dembo layers this story with beautiful imagery of a woman’s power to evoke comfort as a mother (indeed even Mother India), a lover, a cook, or a servant. The life-giving power of the female, embodied by the monsoon rains that give life back to the land, threads through this haunting tale. “Monsoon” is the kind of erotica that could be found in any fantasy or literary fiction anthology; the sexual content blends so seamlessly into the story, it’s hardly noticeable.

“Venus Rising” by Diane Kepler is the story of a couple who keep dark sexual secrets from each other. The young sex doll Winston dresses up and stores in a gel-filled crèche (Kepler’s term, not mine) gets a bit creepy, but the story embodies the value of sharing sexual fantasies in intimate relationships.

Cody Nelson’s “Marked” is a brutal but well-written account of two men who bear the “Mark” which could be either the stain of witchcraft, demons, or perhaps homo- and bisexuality. By forced exploration of the extreme pain caused when the Marked touch, Zack learns an important lesson. I found deep messages buried just below the gritty detail.

“The Harrowing” by Corbie Petulengro is a profoundly disturbing story, detailing both a brutal gang rape and the bondage/discipline/dominance and submission/sadism-masochism (BDSM) “liberation” from the emotional pain “offered” to the survivor. From readings on the psychology of range from strict Diagnostic and Statistical Manual IV interpretations used by psychologists and psychiatrists to “how to” manuals and blogs written by participants in BDSM, “The Harrowing” falls down in its logic that reenactment of the trauma, with the survivor in total control, is healing. First off, here the survivor is bribed into submission. Second, she doesn’t find out until it’s over what the dominant intended. The pretense under which the survivor is lured into the situation is cruel, the ending provides no healing or resolution, and I found this story harrowing indeed.

“Capture, Courting, and Copulation: Contemporary Human Mating Rituals and the Etiology of Human Aggression” by Carolyn and Steve Vakesh is a welcome relief from the intensity of emotion and imagery in the preceding three stories. A dragon professor and her student kidnap and imprison a maiden to study the behavior of the first knight in shining armor who happens upon the scene. The interplay between dragon lore, academic research jargon, and bodice-ripping rescue is hysterical.

“Copperhead Renaissance” by Argus Marks approaches the level of exploitation in “The Harrowing” but falls short, partially because the survivor has been rescued by “the chemist” from an even worse fate. Pimps buy “copperheads” in public auctions after examining them, naked, like they were horses. I understand how the BDSM psychology of this tale works. But Marks never explains why only women born during a certain year, when chemicals in the artificial incubation fluids addicted them, are targeted. That, more than the graphic sexual content, sickens me.

“The Night the New Hog Croaked or The Lascivious Dr. Blonde: A Romance” by Thomas S. Roche is another welcome spoof—just in time. Told in omniscient point of view, we move through the perspective of several of the characters, one wackier than the other, as Dr. Blonde’s incredible machine gets going.

Victoria’s and Ned’s eyes are opened wide as they take in the complicated machine in the center of the lab. It looks like two motorcycles had a head-on collision, but instead of being smashed they fused together. But then someone went around the resulting technical mess and super-glued on a bunch of forks, pincers, restraints, straps, padlocks, electrical contacts and—Victoria isn’t quite sure, but they certainly look like it—big rubber dildos in strategic places.

But they’re all consenting adults and enjoy themselves, so go ahead and laugh. Improbable? I don’t think so.

The main character in “Nocturnal Emissions” by Joe Nobel is a seventeenth century priest concerned about the spate of young women being executed for performing witchcraft. Nobel portrays his character more as a tormented victim than perpetrator which smoothes over the fact that Father Francis’ “girl/creature” is barely pubescent. “Nocturnal Emissions” is layered with powerful imagery from both Pagan and Christian legend and is a story of justice and redemption. It’s a beautiful fantasy with strong allusions to both historical and contemporary issues facing religious sects.

“And What Rough Beast(s)…” by Robert Knippenberg is not what the title leads one to expect. The beasts are humans, modified to take on a variety of animal characteristics, specifically to indulge their more base instincts. It’s written from the first person point of view of a dog/human with run-on sentences that conjured the image of a guy running around on his hands and knees, sniffing the ground, and talking in “jangling participles.” Some of those modified choose to keep some human characteristics, like one girlfriend, a cat who “…kept her own breasts, and only had two of them…” Rather funny and a bit scary.

Connie Wilkins draws the anthology back into nuanced and haunting storytelling in “The Bridge,” using a magical realist approach. Neal is dead, killed on the same battlefield that his lover, Bernard, has been scarred, physically and mentally

The Greeks, Bernard thought grimly, had never dreamed what war would become. Mortar shells and poison gas take no notice of heroism. And while a Spartan or Athenian might have been compelled to order his lover to advance into sure death, there would have been no dishonor in showing his love. No long months of denial, until at the last, when Bernard had held Neal’s broken body in his arms, the face his lips had touched so tenderly was cold and still.

Sexual content is submerged in this story, surfacing only around the actual and symbolic bridge that once united Neal and Bernard. Wilkins weaves the theme of crossing bridges from childhood acknowledgement of sexual orientation, finding partners, and traversing hardship and loss to find a new life on the other side. Like “Monsoon,” “The Bridge” could find a home in any mainstream publication and is my close second favorite.

What would an erotic anthology be without a vampire love story? “Twilight” is Catherine Lundoff’s lighthearted urban fantasy in which “half-blood” Mariel prowls the New York City subways because she “is at her most powerful and hungriest for an hour or so around dawn and dusk, but sensitive to daylight and only a little better than human in full dark.” The vampire hunter she is inexplicably drawn to closes in for the kill, but after the bite, twilight “gets a lot more interesting.”

“Music From My Bones” by Anya Levin jangled mine. But buried deep under the voyeurism and exhibitionist sexual theatre, the first person story of an unnamed protagonist is one of a strange liberation from human partners and physical intimacy with no psychological comfort. Strange that those who hook her up to the machine, so that the audience can watch her mind blowing orgasm as it unfolds, hold her in higher regard and treat her and her body with more reverence and respect than an inconsiderate partner with whom she is “in love.” Levin illuminates some interesting paradoxes.

Kal Cobalt brings us a cyberpunk theme in “The Lift.” Former lovers, Xon and Illan, are offered a reunion after their conversions by the Prototype & Implementation coordinator for the Portal Institute of the Conjoint Federation of Governments. Cyber-sex, indeed, as Illan and Xon have vague recollections of life before the prohibition of portal to portal contact, despite the constant intrusions Xon experiences from his modifications designed for self-protection and sufficiency. Quite sad, indeed.

“Caretaker” by Fauna Sara reminds me of a Beauty and the Beast adaptation, but this time, it takes place in a monastery where unwanted girls are sold by their families to be sequestered while “The eunuchs guarded her maidenhead at all times charged an expensive fee” if they were “returned” or if they failed to win “His favor.” Particularly disturbing is the mention of bruised, rejected Caretakers returning to sleeping quarters and subsequently “disappearing.” Religious allusions abound, including the designation of the chief beast as a Godlike “Him,” references to the Virgin Mary, and Caretakers being lured to His service as the Favored Ones, and the lack of gifts on Ascension Day.

Jean Roberta’s “Smoke” is a deeply feminist story (yes, erotica can be feminist) with roots in pagan ritual, traditional Christian views toward women, and the real life despair over the twists, turns, and changes in their bodies as they grow older. While examining lesbian experiences, Roberta turns up the heat so you feel the hot flashes radiate from the imagery. But it’s not about the sex; it’s about breaking the shackles on your soul. A very empowering tale that transcends gender, if you let it.

“Opening the Veins of Jade” by Reneé M. Charles is another evocative jewel, with an Asian flare. Delicate, poetic Eastern legends juxtaposed with procedures in a tattoo parlor create an unlikely combination. Charles captures the feeling of a tattoo artist’s inspiration, as well as the powerful link between the imagery, sensuality, pleasure, and pain the designs are capable of providing for their wearers.

Jason Rubris presents another first person story in “Circe House,” where humans seek liberation from the:

imprisonment of stiff clothes and awful tight shoes and […] excruciating manners. They take on forms of animals and are kept in cages to cater to the fantasies of the Doctor, …her hand with its short, dirty fingers and red, red nails. Little clever feet made hooflike by her pointed black shoes. Small, scrumptious body wrapped in a pristine white coat, left unbuttoned so the black corset underneath is artfully displayed.

Mignon, a sex changing something, narrates, and “Circe House” doesn’t have the humor of “And What Rough Beast(s)…” but rather a cruelty which some might find amusing, or perhaps, a warning.

“The Gantlet” is set in the near future dystopic eastern United States with a curious mix of advanced technology and environmental troubles within a society with strict caste divisions and discrimination. B. Lynch Black takes us on an anachronistic train trip with Maddy, a member of the Condista caste.

Maddy is traveling to what she thinks will be a routine business meeting to indulge the “fuddy-duddy” Susalii’s who are even more terrified of vid conferences and other technology than the Imperiatas. But that all changes when a load of volcanic ash accumulates on the tracks and a mysterious young woman catches her eye, and her fancy. Shula might be younger, and of the inferior Bindari caste, but she changes Maddy’s life. For the better or worse? Depends upon your viewpoint on class, race, and sense of what is important in life—status or happiness.

For centuries, erotic poetry, art, and literature have celebrated the beauty of human sexuality in its multiple forms. In the case of many of these erotic sub-genres, it offers insight and warning as to what is possible when that humanity is added or subtracted from the act, which, regardless of gender, sexual orientation, ethnic or religious affiliation, age, and even species, remains one of the most primal of all needs of any living being.

The line between erotica and pornography is a fine one, and some of these stories straddle or cross it using my definition of sexual exploitation or violence against one (or more) partners by another without their express consent and continued agreement. But you be the judge. Rip off the cover so no one will stare at you on the bus or subway. Look past the words to find the inspiration, warning, irony, or messages deep within while you indulge in some interesting and provocative fantasies of your own.

Publisher: Circlet Press (Nov. 2007)
Price: $15.56
Paperback: 314 pages
ISBN: 1885865600