We all recognize that the boy who develops certain notions about the compatibility of sand and skin from the swimsuit issues stacked next to his grandfather's BarcaLounger must soon discover the rough reality of forty-grit lovemaking. In theory, the setup seems the perfect illustration of the Reese's principle: two great tastes that taste great together.īut theory is not practice, and life, friends, is not a peanut-butter cup. On the other hand, there's the novel, an artistic enterprise devoted to making verbal sense of mute experience. On the one hand, there's, well, sex, a source of mystifying pleasure and profundity that for most people rarely elicits any articulation other than a contented grunt, groan, or gasp.
Sex in fiction, like sex on a beach, ought to be a no-brainer.
