| by Gustave Courtois |
A few years ago, I had the privilege of editing a new anthology series, Lace and Blade, from Norilana Books. The concept was a certain flavor of elegant, romantic sword and sorcery, witty and stylized, sensual yet with plenty of swashbuckling action (think The Scarlet Pimpernel with magic). Because we wanted to release the first volume for Valentine’s Day, I contacted a group of seasoned professional authors, people I could depend on to understand what I was looking for and to deliver top quality stories to deadline. For various reasons, the publisher wanted the second volume to be open submissions. If I'd had any idea what I was getting myself into, I would have refused. Insulated in the world of competent fantasy writers and readers who are versed in the grandeur of writers from J.R.R. Tolkien to Tanith Lee, I was ill-prepared for what mundanes think of when they hear “fantasy.”
Needless to say, when I talk about sexuality or eroticism or
sensuality or gender issues in fantasy, I do not mean pornography. It seems
that for far too many people, sexuality is such an emotionally difficult
subject that instead of facing it honestly, discussing it openly, they shroud
it in prurience and embarrassment, or else turn it into something salacious or
forbidden. Yet just about every human being over the age of puberty has had
sexual feelings (notice my delicate use of qualifiers). So if sexuality in
fantasy does not mean “your most
lascivious and pornographic imaginings, regardless of whether you’d really like
to do these things, because how would
you know what you enjoy if you’ve never been permitted to experiment,” what is
the role of sexuality in fantasy? Does it even have one? Should we keep sex out
of fantasy literature, restrict the love stories to a chaste kiss now and
again, and keep the hero/ine’s mind firmly fixed on nobler causes?




