N.J. Gemmell – The Bride Stripped Bare
AS a
big fan of Duchamp, picked this book up based on the title alone, that and
flicking briefly through it, it didn’t seem too terrible. The novel professes to
be a woman’s confessional document, detailing her marital life and birth of her
and her husband’s first son. It’s quite sexually explicit, and apparently got the
writer embroiled in a bit of a tabloid scandal despite the fact that she
originally left it anonymous (my copy, a reprint, contains a post-script with a
little word on this signed by the author, though the frontispiece still refers
to the author as “anonymous”).
The novel is written in the second person – something I’ve not
seen before. It also bears the dedication “For my husband. For every husband.”
Logically put together these techniques would give the text a second purpose
(besides that of being a confessional), that is, to educate men. In fact, the
novel contains various pieces of information pertaining to love, sex and
marriage which under the yoke of the second person narrative and the dedication
become advice for all men:
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What you want:
The lights turned off. A touch
that’s gentle, slow, provocative, that builds you up, that makes you want it
too much. An orgasm; it doesn’t have to be at the same time as the man, just
one orgasm so that you know what everyone’s talking about. Eye contact. A
quick coming that’s not on your breasts or face. Holding afterwards, skin to
skin. Oral sex, precisely where you ask, for as long and as soft and as slow
as you’d like. Sex that’s uncomplicated, with no ties, where the man will do
exactly what you want. Claming happiness for yourself: you’re so used to
focusing on your partner’s pleasure at the expense of your own.
The Bride Stripped
Bare,
Chapter 43
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This passage has a lot to say about the novel as a whole.
The main feature here is the narrator’s appeal for “her turn”, as if all the
time her partner has been commanding the action around the bedroom. However,
instead of an appeal for equality, what follows is a request to make her the
dominator, as it were, and place the man in the subordinate position. This
seems to contradict the later, deliberately degrading, multi-person sex fantasy
which she carries out. The narrator clearly doesn’t know what she wants, and
that is part of the development of the character certainly. She also eventually
manages to have a brief affair with a man who very much becomes subordinate to
her and this doesn’t work out too well either. So, as a text that supposedly
has something to teach men, what is this saying? That women don’t know what
they want? Certainly, the author couldn’t have forgotten, also, that women do
not want the same thing as one another sexually.
Towards the end of the novel, the narrator has a child and
seems consumed by pride at this fact – so much so that she revels over the fact
that she has a child where her friend does not. The last few chapters consists
of her looking back over the transformation that she has undergone as a
character – reflecting back at her old fantasies, sexual desire and her old
tryst. The novel proper ends with her giving a secret glance at her old lover
and walking away with her husband whom she feels nothing sexually for at all.
So the novel ends with no consequences for the main character, with her sexually
un-frustrated, but nonsexual. However, after the last chapter is an epilogue
which essentially recaps the prologue – the main character has apparently
thrown herself off of a cliff with her newborn baby son. Is that a resolution?
Was it the lack of consequences for her that convinced her to have the main
character commit suicide? The novel is clearly one of badly thought out plotlines
and character development.

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