Why can’t Atlanta get it up for erotica?
Monday, August 13th, 2007
One of the many Rodney Dangerfields of literature has to be erotica. Maybe it’s because most Americans probably like their sex scenes folded into “regular†literature so that it kind of blindsides them. The stuffier crowd might not like their sex telegraphed by the genre’s name — in your face, so to speak.
(Photo by Erik Kragh)
So be it. If there’s one author of erotica who could use some respect around here, it might just be Polly Frost.
The author e-mailed me awhile back to pitch a review of her latest work, the brazenly titled Deep Inside, with its foreboding subtitle, Ten tantalizing tales of supernatural erotica. By most accounts, the book has been well-received in the erotica world, drawing praise from the website Bookgasm as well as that astute reader of all things pervy, Ron Jeremy.
When I asked her if she was doing any Atlanta appearances to present her work, she said she couldn’t, for the sexy life of her, get a date in this town. And apparently she had a story to tell, which she did in a (solicited) e-mail response to me.
Here’s Polly, in her own, not-so-erotic words…
