Showing posts with label dirty words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dirty words. Show all posts

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Billierosie Likes Dirty Words

(from M.Christian Queer Imaginings)


My fantastic pal, Billierosie, sent me this great review for Dirty Words (out now in a brand new edition from Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions)... thanks, sweetie!

What's also cool is that this edition restores Patrick Califia's very special introduction.


What is it about M.Christian’s DIRTY WORDS, that has me thinking of tapestry? In particular the Bayeux Tapestry, in Northern France? DIRTY WORDS is M.Christian’s collection of erotic, if not pornographic stories, displaying human sexuality at its most raw and crude. The Bayeux Tapestry, as I remember it, has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with Queen Matilda and her refined Ladies in Waiting, stitching away in chilly castles in Normandy, France, while their men folk sail off to conquer the unrefined British.
[MORE



Friday, September 07, 2012

FANTASTIC NEWS!

(from M. Christian's Queer Imaginings)


I've said it before but it's worth repeating over and over and over again: I adore working with the great Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions.  

Not only have they brought back into print pretty much all of my queer books under the very special M. Christian ManLove Collection:






- and now, they'd released - as I've mentioned - a brand new edition of my Lambda-finalist collection Dirty Words


But that's not all!  Check out this absolutely fantastic video spot they just released for the whole collection!

Tuesday, September 04, 2012

Coming (ahem) Very Soon!

(from M.Christian's Queer Imaginings)


- from Sizzler Editions/Renaissance E Books: the new edition of my Lambda-nominated collection of queer erotica, Dirty Words.  Here's the final cover and a taste of the great intro by Patrick Califia:

It can be very damned awkward to have a good friend who is also a writer (or wants to be one). What do you do when someone approaches you for an introduction or a blurb for the back cover ... and you like their wicked smile or their spicy chicken marsala or their hospitable, fuzzy butt a whole lot more than you like their paragraphs, which are as graceful as a football tumbling down the stairs, mixed metaphors, and fuck scenes that could not be resurrected with a truckload of Viagra? Fortunately for me, M.Christian presents no such dilemma. Given our long and intimate acquaintance, I probably can't be 100% objective about the book you are holding in your hot little hands. But I can honestly say that this is some of the best writing, period, that I've perused in the last year...

Thursday, August 30, 2012

M. Christian's ManLove Collection From Sizzler Editions

(From M. Christian's Queer Imaginings)



I can never say it enough: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions is the best: not only have they been fantastic in re-releasing my queer erotica - as well as lots of other fun books - but they just put up this great subsection on their site just for my gay erotic books...

AND speaking of which, not only have they just put out a new edition of Me2 (which I still deny writing) but coming very, very soon is a re-release of my Lambda finalist collection, Dirty Words - and here's a look at the fantastic new cover:


Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Monday, July 20, 2009

Amos Lassen Likes Dirty Words

Here's a wonderful review of Dirty Words, compliments of the always-great Amos Lassen:

Eureka Pride:
I love reading M. Christian. I remember when I read him for the first time about two years ago, I thought to myself that this was an author whose work I wanted to keep up with and I have done just that. He is a brilliant writer with a wonderful streak of darkness that is delightful. I love his irreverence and his inventiveness and reading “Dirty Words” is like taking a trip to places unknown.

This collection is sometimes funny, sometimes scary, sometimes fantastic and always interesting. The writing is smart and clever and edgy and dark. It is hard to put a name on it because the writing transcends all labels and genre. All of us love good stories and these are some of the best. I have often said that writing goof erotica is difficult because it has to engage the minds and the senses. Christian manages to do this and with style. The stories capture the reader and he tells us strange stories that at times are very disturbing. Joy and horror are combined along with the lust of the flesh and the lust of the language.

There is sex in all of the stories but Christian does not make us work to understand what he has to say; he says it all but with magnificent care and beautiful style. Fourteen stories that reflect the author’s mind is what we have here.

I deliberately did not go into individual stories because I want you to have the experience of enjoying each and every one. You will not forget the stories or the experience that you will have reading them.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Pauline Loves Dirty Words

My fantastic pal, Pauline, just sent me this great review for Dirty Words ... thanks, sweetie!

What is it about M.Christian’s DIRTY WORDS, that has me thinking of tapestry? In particular the Bayeux Tapestry, in Northern France? DIRTY WORDS is M.Christian’s collection of erotic, if not pornographic stories, displaying human sexuality at its most raw and crude. The Bayeux Tapestry, as I remember it, has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with Queen Matilda and her refined Ladies in Waiting, stitching away in chilly castles in Normandy, France, while their men folk sail off to conquer the unrefined British.

I think in my muddled way, my brain is drawing comparisons between two wonderful forms of story telling. I’ve been privileged to see the Bayeux Tapestry, three, maybe four times. And each time I’ve wandered around that museum in France, going from panel to panel, I’ve been struck by the tiny stories that it carefully tells. The journey across what we now call the English Channel. The logistics of transportation. The battle itself and the death of poor King Harold. Even a panel dedicated to those lonely ladies, stitching away at home. And there’s the little people. Those who don’t get noticed.

In DIRTY WORDS, M.Christian weaves us stories, that challenge and inspire. Stories of the little people; the dirty people. The people we try not to notice. In SPIKE, Christian gives us narcissism at its most extreme. Identical twin brothers sucking on each other’s cocks. No way! Shocking. But Christian doesn’t shy away from the truth about the two Spikes. Their self love is all consuming; dangerous; overwhelmingly passionate. It’s uncontrolled. The only control here, is finding out who is in control. Finally, carving out one’s own identity.

The wonderful HOW COYOTE STOLE THE SUN, gives us a drifter. A life without purpose. Or is it? The dog will cheat you, turn you over. Seduce you; rape you, steal your lover. Why? Just because he can. The odds are against dog. Even the elements are against him. The cruel sun pounds down on him and still dog wins. He doesn’t even want his prize and throws it away. But he still leaves with a smile on his face.

So who’s got the biggest cock? Mammoth or Monster? Ask Pup; he knows. THE HARLEY tells of biker culture. But not a biker culture like you’ve ever imagined it. Mammoth and Monster are crude, ugly, without any endearing features. They ride bikes and they fuck. Mostly Pup. There’s a competition going on for the Harley. Who gets it? Who deserves it? Perhaps Pup should decide.

The brilliant ECHOES is worthy of Edgar Allen Poe, at his most gruesome. Sex and Death, and all the horrors of beyond the grave. Guilt, and secrets coming back to haunt us. The sort of story that reminds me of why I check under the bed, on those dark nights.

I seem to have drifted a long way from the ladies stitching the Bayeux Tapestry. It’s about the excellence of great story telling. M.Christian weaves his exquisite words. The tapestry is another art form entirely. It tells a big story and lots of little ones. Moments in time. DIRTY WORDS tells the big story of sexuality. It also tells the little stories of those small people. Again. Moments in time.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Steve Williams Loves Dirty Words

This is very cool news: Steve Williams has just posted a great review of Dirty Words for Suite 101. Here's a taste - click here for the rest.


Steve Williams for Suite 101:
M. Christian, the celebrated author of novels like Painted Doll and Brushes, is widely regarded as being at the forefront of erotic fiction, whether writing for the gay, straight or transgender market, and his anthology Dirty Words yet again pushes boundaries in a collection of eclectic and satisfactorily disturbing stories.

Dirty Words proves that M. Christian's prodigious imagination is just as formidable as ever, from stories of sex after death in Echoes, to tales of shamanic seduction in Coyote & The Less Than Perfect Cougar, and disturbing yarns like Wet that twist sex and murder into one dark act; there's something for everyone in Dirty Words, but be warned, for those who like straightforward eroticism, this is anything but.

Truly great is the fact that in as little as ten or so pages of Dirty Words, M. Christian can create a plethora of characters and make his audience care about each one of them, as he does so in Wet, a story of immortality as gifted by a horrific kiss, which manages to create a hot little morality tale with maximum sensuality. This is a truly authentic writer at work.
[More]

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Pat Califia on Dirty Words

Unfortunately, due to space limitations, Pat Califia's marvelous intro to the original Dirty Words had to be left on the cutting room floor of the new, Lethe Books, edition.

But here it is: a real treat from a great person and a fantastic writer:


Dirty Deeds For Dirty Boys (And Men)
By
Patrick Califia-Rice

It can be very damned awkward to have a good friend who is also a writer (or wants to be one). What do you do when someone approaches you for an introduction or a blurb for the back cover ... and you like their wicked smile or their spicy chicken marsala or their hospitable, fuzzy butt a whole lot more than you like their paragraphs, which are as graceful as a football tumbling down the stairs, mixed metaphors, and fuck scenes that could not be resurrected with a truckload of Viagra? Fortunately for me, M. Christian presents no such dilemma. Given our long and intimate acquaintance, I probably can’t be 100% objective about the book you are holding in your hot little hands. But I can honestly say that this is some of the best writing, period, that I’ve perused in the last year.

Be forewarned: Dirty Words is not a walk in the park on a sunny day. Like many quiet and unassuming people, M. Christian conceals a frightening intellect, a lurid imagination, and a Zen comprehension of the evil that men can do. In case you never have the privilege of meeting him or hearing him read, I’d like you to know that he’s a really nice guy. Honest. Sweet. Compassionate. But all of those virtues spring from doctoral-level study of the Shadow. His kindness is informed by a sad appraisal of all the self-interested alternatives. He chooses not to exploit others even though he gets exactly how thrilling it can be to push a weaker person down and suck them dry.

The best writing about sex is also about something else. The San Francisco writers I refer to as the Glamorous Nerd Pornographers are hand-crafting a renaissance of smart smut. Like Fanny Hill, My Secret Life, or Dangerous Liaisons (bet you didn’t know that was originally a very banned book), sexually-explicit work by Carol Queen, Thomas Roche, M. Christian, Bill Brent, Ian Philips, Kirk Read, and their fellow travelers creates a record of mores, manners, philosophy, fashion, controversy, politics, religion, and other keynotes that preserve the tenor of a given moment in human history. (As do a handful of great sex writers in other locales, like Tristan Taormino in, uh, what is that place, New York City?)

The themes that preoccupy M. Christian include (but are not restricted to) revenge (in “Chickenhawk” and “Counting” he details the way a pursuit of vengeance alters the agents of Nemesis as well as her object), the signifiers of masculinity (two badder-than-bad bikers in “The Harley” compete for possession of a dead bro’s hawg), the odd things that can cause one human being to bond with another (“What Ails You”), and the Crisco-slippery, razor-sharp twists that Fate loves to hand out to those who think they already know how their story is going to end (“Matches”). Oh, and cocksucking. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a writer who is more poetically obsessed with cocksucking than M. Christian. He is a bard of deep-throat, a lyrical celebrator of the profoundly transformative act of blowing a load all over somebody else’s tonsils. He’s a dab hand at describing ass fucking as well. But there’s a difference between the three-star restaurant and the one that gets four stars. M. Christian has paid his dues, watching the habits of the feral, big dick (his own and others) as assiduously as your maiden aunt noted various species of swallows in her bird-watching log, or monitored the ownership of cars parked after dark in other people’s driveways.

There’s a lot of pretty violent stuff in this book (see “Blue Boy” for a prime example). But even the most horrific acts become as jubilant and aesthetically pleasing as a machine-gun massacre in a Quentin Tarantino film. And there’s always a surprise. M. Christian does not take the easy way out. From the relentless way he works his readers’ nerves, one might almost suspect him of a certain amount of sadism. He’s also a surprisingly moral authorónever preachy, but never slipping into the sort of gratuitous bloodshed that quickly becomes a big yawn. There’s no noir character more overworked than the vampire, but M. Christian puts a new spin on it with a melancholy artist who feels obligated to clean up the mistakes he makes when his loneliness becomes too much to bear (“Wet”).

The carefully choreographed pseudoviolence that’s called sadomasochism in the postindustrial West also figures heavily in these stories (“Spike” and “Puppy”). But these are not the hackneyed stories that make one fall asleep over most of the remaindered paperback product of Masquerade Books. “Spike” is a tour de force about narcissism that would make the most seasoned psychiatrist seek out his own psychoanalysis, and “Puppy” pokes good horny fun at every stereotype of the autocratic and omniscient Master.

It will no doubt become apparent to you before you’ve flipped very many of these pages, pumped the bottle of Sex Grease a few times, and dug out a clean (or at least cleaner) cum rag that M. Christian is a talented writer of horror as well as science fiction, mythology, and porn. This synthesis of horrorerotica reaches a peak, in this book, in “Echoes.” I’m not sure I wanted to know this much about necrophilia, but now that I do, it is probably building my character, even as I type this introduction.

But my favorite stories in Dirty Words feature that irrepressible trickster god who is probably the patron saint of queers. I am talking about Coyote himself, blood brother of Loki, Set, and Elegba. In “Coyote and the Less-than-Perfect Cougar” and “How Coyote Stole the Sun,” M. Christian perfectly captures the cringing and fawning facade of this master thief and Back Door Man. Coyote has his priorities straight. He’s not afraid to flatter the pants off you, as long as he gets those drawers down around your ankles.

You can shoot Coyote. You can poison him. You can trap him and hang him and throw him off the cliff or lock him up in jail, blow him up, starve him, and flatten him with a steamroller. But he’ll always pull himself together and be back tomorrow night or in a fortnight, making good use of the intelligence he gathered during his fatal foray at your defenses. Sooner or later he will walk off with your cherry, your cash, your car keys, your boyfriend’s virtue, and your most cherished illusions. When you’ve been [literally] fucked over by Coyote, you emerge a sadder but wiser person, and not really all that sore, considering that you’ve just been banged by the sacred phallus of the Father of Lies.

Coyote represents the persistence and survival of the downtrodden, the not-particularly-deserving poor. He is able to take joy in life even when the conditions around him are unbelievably bleak. He is ingenious, creative, fun-loving, and apparently irresistible. Coyote knows what’s behind propriety (and chances are, has been in that behind). He knows who is unfaithful, who sleeps with the stone of a guilty conscience in his bed, who harbors “unnatural” desires. To Coyote this is all grist for the mill. Because he is free of the normal prohibitions that regulate right-thinking mortals and gods, he always keeps his mobility. The most severe punishment cannot turn Coyote aside from his pursuit of carnal pleasure, comfort, and advantage over others. He teaches us to respect the aspects of ourselves that we would much rather disown. Because when we pretend to be obedient and righteous, all that repression and self-delusion distracts us from the here-and-now. We leave the chicken coop unlocked, and Coyote gets a free meal. Or we forget to satisfy our loved ones’ dirtiest impulses, and Coyote gets a quick and shabby but ecstatic fuck on your clean sheets.

That brings us back to where we started, with some high-faluting talk about the Shadow. Jungian psychologists believe that when we are most cut off from these disavowed and dangerous emotions and actions, we become depressed, impotent, and unable to do any real good. We may be frightened or disgusted by the faces of the bastard children of our own spirits, but they are often the most energetic, vivid, and real parts of ourselves. Pornography exists to keep the Shadow of a monotheistic and ransacked world alive. As long as one person can write about or film ribald acts that flaunt the status quo, and somebody else can read or watch this heresy and beat off hard enough to take off like a helicopter, magic will be kept alive, and along with it our best hope of salvation. (Which we achieve, paradoxically enough, only when we abandon the gloss of being pure or holy.)

Pornographers are thus the fitting heirs of the trickster archetype. It’s no surprise that this genre of entertainment is banned as often for its political satire, attacks on the church, or lampooning of other sacred cows as it is for being too plainspoken about the Old In and Out. In Dirty Words, M. Christian has a prolonged romp at the expense of homophobia, several flavors of People of the Book, butch iconography, pacifism, pulling out before you cum, selfishness, prudery, bullying, virginity, and monogamy. Put your ear closer to this page and you will hear an outraged mooing. Then go get your reading glasses and your poppers or whatever accessories you require to luxuriate in a good dirty book, and savor, relish, enjoy, get it up and get it off, and laugh yourself sick and sane.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Dirty Words, An Excerpt

Here's a teasing taste of my newly-reprinted collection, Dirty Words, currently available from the always-great Lethe Books.

Btw, "How Coyote Stole The Sun" was originally in Michael Thomas Ford's anthology, Happily Ever After, and then in Susie Bright's Best American Erotica 1997.


How Coyote Stole The Sun

The bus dropped to its knees, yawning open its door. The day was burning: the sun angry at something it wasn’t sharing and the wind was scared to come out.

Dust swirled, friendly and clinging, around Dog as he left the cooling bosom of the Interstate Lines bus. Satisfied that it’s friend was out and walking safely away, No 47--Albuquerque to Taos--closed its door and left with a belching cloud of exhaust.

The trees must have had issues with dog, because as he approached them they shuffled and fluttered their leaves to flash pieces of the too-hot sun down on him.

But Dog was used to that kind of treatment from trees--he paid them no mind and just kept on walking along the dusty road.

After a time of walking, (precisely how long being difficult to say because time wasn’t something Dog really understood and because watches, as a group, refused to speak true to him even if he bothered to ask) Dog saw some signs of man: the broken teeth of a old picket fence, the rusting mesh of its chain-link brother, the stumps of telephone poles, and, distantly, the regularity of a small house.

A few steps later, details filled his eyes: it was a small house. Clapboard painted red. A porch that was a mixture of rotting and rotted old boards. Glassless windows with torn curtains like pale moss. A screen door with more holes than screen.

It took Dog a few seconds to really see them, they were so faded into the grasses and the shadows: The two little boys were brown and furtive from running with the rabbits and the squirrels. Their eyes were as blue as the sky when it was in a good mood, and about as tame as wild foxes. They were naked and tanned from the stern sun--dirty and scuffed and uncaring, unworried. Maybe nine Summers, maybe ten. Not twelve. They could have been brothers or just kin who had been playing outside together too long.

Dog watching them, doing nothing for a while, then he dropped down onto his haunches, feeling his old blue jeans creak and stretch against his thighs. Putting two fingers on the ground, he gave the boys the gift of thinking that he needed them for balance--when Dog could have stayed there for many nights without moving.

After a time, the two wild boys decided that he wasn’t a hunter, or at least wasn’t a hungry one. Cautiously, the came out from the high grasses in front of dead house and looked at him.

Finally, the one with some echoes of being civilized, or just less of the music of the wild world, spoke: “What you doing here, Mister?”

Dog spoke, slowly and without threatening timbre: “Just passing.”

The boy who spoke, nodded, as if that was more than enough, or all he could understand.

Dog played a bit with the dust at his feet, careful to draw something without meaning. “Anything around here?” the drifter said.

The other boy, the one who didn’t speak, heard a sound and leaped into the weeds in pursuit. The other looked like he wanted to join his friend or brother but was still fascinated by the stranger. “Birds. Rabbits. Mice. Squirrels. Roc.”

“Roc?”

He jerked his head down the road. “He has more than anyone. Even stuff.”

“Stuff?” Dog said, standing and brushing some of the clinging dust from his denim jacket.

The boy looked confused for a moment, as if he didn’t have any other words. Another sound chirped from the high, brown grasses and he looked harder this time in its direction: the wild wasn’t calling--rather, it was screaming for his small attention.

He looked back at Dog once more, decided that either he didn’t have anything else to say, or the means to say what he wanted to, and bounded off into the grasses to make hunting and catching noises all his own.

Dog watched the grasses shake and shush a bit, then turned and walked down the road.

Roc?

[more]

Sunday, April 12, 2009

DIRTY WORDS - Out Now!

Lethe Press is proud to announce that M.Christian's Lambda-Award Finalist gay erotica collection Dirty Words is back in print!

From mischievous Native American spirits, to victims of cybernetic nightmares, these stories will amaze, amuse, terrify, fascinate and – always – excite you. Subtle and not, these well-crafted tales will touch you – and always excite you – in ways you’d never expect.

These aren’t just erotic stories; they are slices of life, fables, tales, and surreal anecdotes. Amazing, amusing, terrifying, and much more, they’ll excite and touch you in ways you’ll never expect.
Here's what people have said about this funny, wild, scary, and fun collection:
I like M. Christian. Yes sireee. But up until now his punchy fiction has been laid on my lap drop by drop through various anthologies that have come my way. Once you’ve licked up one of his short stories, you’re left with a bitter sweet taste in your mouth that has you sniffling the air for more.

Dipping into his erotic prose is like being doused with a bucket of icy cold water on a sticky Summer’s day. It’s a sense awakening experience, which enlivens and sweeps you away in the same narrative breath. It’s dark, it’s dangerous, it’s horny, it’s mouthwatering, it’s witty and it’s sharp.

Read my lips: Read this book.

- Skin Two
#
Calling Dirty Words "provocative erotica" is like calling an orgasm "a pleasant sensation." M. Christian doesn't just peek over the edge; he grabs you and jumps and tells you a story all the way down, a story so strange and wonderful and deeply disturbing that you almost forget you're falling. You just hope you have time to find out how it ends before you hit bottom. It never ends the way you think it will.

M. Christian is that rarest of literary birds, a virtuoso stylist. Oh, I could rhapsodize about his tricolons, his parallel constructions, the noir beat of his prose rhythm. I could revel in the slow roll of his vowels, the crack of his consonants, and yes, even his assonance. But what it all means is that he reads like a dream. You can't open Dirty Words without finding a beautiful sentence.


To get the most out of M. Christian's haunting mix of rapture and horror, exaltation and degradation, love of language and lust for flesh, read him out loud. If you have someone to read him out loud to, someone who knows that the best porn is also art, you're both very lucky.


- Clean Sheets
#

As it is with anything (food, art, clothing, fill in the blanks), taste in literature is nothing if not subjective. When it comes to erotica, it is doubly so. There are some writers who, through the sheer brilliance of their work, transcend the boundaries of taste and genre in a way that appears almost effortless.

M. Christian is one of those.


Dirty Words, is a challenging and thoroughly enjoyable collection of short stories, all of which incorporates sex - and its peripheral issues - within their scope. Despite the common theme, the stories featured in the book cover a wide spectrum in terms of subject matter.


M. Christian is a writer who doesn't force the reader to labor through overblown descriptions or struggle with metaphors that don't quite 'click'. Rather, his language is so carefully chosen that it comes across as an untailored stream of consciousness: offhand, easily and very, very honest. It is the kind of writing that makes the process of reading seem unnecessary - the ideas simply exist on the page like surprises, waiting to be experienced.


I strongly recommend you experience Dirty Words by M. Christian for yourself

- Outlooks

#

Part folklore, part pornography, part horror, part brutal romance - and all erotically kick-ass. Dirty Words takes readers in a tour of 14 contorted mental interiors and labyrinthine psychic dungeons inhabiting M. Christian's mind. This is not a collection of short stories where the music swells and the camera pans to clouds passing the bedroom window on a moonlit night.

Smart, hot, and vorpal-blade sharp, Dirty Words is perfect reading for those who love their sex fantasies in-you-face and are unafraid of a little blood


- AVN Inprint
#

Order a copy today!

Lethe Press
Paperback
ISBN-1590211243
$15.00
If you're interested in reviewing Dirty Words please email M.Christian:

zobop@aol.com
mchristianzobop@gmail.com

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

A Special Preview -

I'm extremely pleased to be able to report that my very first collection, Dirty Words, is going to be reprinted by the very cool folks at Lethe Press. Here's a preview of the cover of the new edition. Stay tuned for more info ....