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Necrophilia Variations
Necrophilia Variations is a literary monograph on the erotic attraction to corpses and death. It consists of a series of texts that, like musical phrases, take up the theme and advance it by means of repetition, contrast, and variation. To love someone dead is merely nostalgia, but to make love with someone dead is necrophilia, and this book is about that.
Although a work of fiction, Necrophilia Variations uses literary means to probe the psychopathology of sexual perversion. Eros, the book asks, is naturally drawn to beauty, and yet nothing would seem to be less inherently beautiful than a cadaver. How is it that a necrophile ends up confusing the two, or making the leap, such that he finds beauty in what most people would find repugnant? How does he come to desire that which would seem to be intrinsically undesirable?
Written in a style that ranges from the lugubrious to the ludicrous — from purple prose to black humor — Necrophilia Variations exhibits a world of depravity from the inside out. Each of its texts utilizes the first person — not because it is autobiographical but rather because it is personal, even intimate. Why intimate? Because that's how death is — near you, beside you, eventually inside you as well. It would be nice to say that that's how sex is too — intimate — but then it's no secret just how impersonal sex can be, especially when your lover is unconscious or worse.
If you have ever contemplated the curious points of contact between eros and thanatos — if you have ever wondered why femmes fatales are alluring, or why sex can be made more exciting by games that simulate danger and pain, or why that bit of French slang that deems orgasm a "little death" seems so appropriate — then you may well enjoy this book. And if you do, then your joy in reading may even unlock the necrophiliac mind for you — since a text is, like a corpse, the remains of a living being, and as a reader you will no doubt be determined to extract pleasure from it.
Although a work of fiction, Necrophilia Variations uses literary means to probe the psychopathology of sexual perversion. Eros, the book asks, is naturally drawn to beauty, and yet nothing would seem to be less inherently beautiful than a cadaver. How is it that a necrophile ends up confusing the two, or making the leap, such that he finds beauty in what most people would find repugnant? How does he come to desire that which would seem to be intrinsically undesirable?
Written in a style that ranges from the lugubrious to the ludicrous — from purple prose to black humor — Necrophilia Variations exhibits a world of depravity from the inside out. Each of its texts utilizes the first person — not because it is autobiographical but rather because it is personal, even intimate. Why intimate? Because that's how death is — near you, beside you, eventually inside you as well. It would be nice to say that that's how sex is too — intimate — but then it's no secret just how impersonal sex can be, especially when your lover is unconscious or worse.
If you have ever contemplated the curious points of contact between eros and thanatos — if you have ever wondered why femmes fatales are alluring, or why sex can be made more exciting by games that simulate danger and pain, or why that bit of French slang that deems orgasm a "little death" seems so appropriate — then you may well enjoy this book. And if you do, then your joy in reading may even unlock the necrophiliac mind for you — since a text is, like a corpse, the remains of a living being, and as a reader you will no doubt be determined to extract pleasure from it.
200 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2005
99 people are currently reading
1621 people want to read
About the author
Supervert
10 books179 followersSupervert is an alias — a nom de plume — a moniker for an individual — a corporation — a brand name. Supervert offers you a unique combination of intellect and deviance. Perversity for your brain. Vanguard aesthetics, novel pathologies.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 115 reviews
October 23, 2012
I loved this book so much that I kept wondering what the hell was wrong with me every couple of pages.
July 3, 2017
When this book was chosen for my book club, I was a bit dismayed. The title was not one that appealed to me; but, trying to force myself to keep an open mind, I resolved to read it, anyways. At first, I was glad I did; after getting through the first story, I thought “Well, this could be worse.” But now that I’m most of the way through this book, I take it back: this couldn’t be worse.
Contrary to what you might expect, this book isn’t about necrophilia, per se. To describe it generously, it is a kind of literary exploration of the connections between love and death. To do this, the author writes a succession of short stories, all having love and death as primary themes. The stories are, on the whole, rather short; but there are a lot of them.
It’s hard to know where to start. Well, for one, the writings is awful. I know such big blanket statements aren’t helpful, so I will get more specific. To start, the author is prone to overusing several mannerisms in his interior monologues; the most noticeable of these is to use three alliterative pairings in a row:
And again:
Once more:
More generally, the prose tends to be flashy and empty. To borrow one of the author’s mannerisms, the writing is studiously stupid, insistently idiotic, persistently puerile.
But besides the sickening prose, everything else is off, too. These stories have no character development, hardly a plot to speak of, and no drama. The dialogue seems like it has been lifted from a bad comic book:
All of the stories are in the first person; and all of the stories I managed to get through were narrated by young males. Further, the whole spirit and outlook of these stories is that of a young male—and I mean very young. For, instead of giving us actual stories, the author—thinking himself much cleverer than he is—gives us concept-motivated pieces. Every story begins and ends with a premise; and these premises all sound as if they’re the product of a bored sixteen-year-old’s imagination, who thinks of things just to gross out his other sixteen-year old buddies during lunch break.
Consider one of his stories, “Terror Groupies.” The title sums up the story entirely: “What if suicide bombers had groupies, just like rock stars?” The story goes nowhere from that thought; and the result is unsurprisingly unappealing.
Not only are these stories tasteless, but they are tacky. They have no appeal other than their shock value—and they aren’t even shocking. It says a lot that a book promising to explore the connections between love and death managed to be so terrifically dull. Consider, further, the author’s pen name “Supervert,” an amalgam of “super-pervert.” Perhaps the author really is sixteen? If so, these stories would actually be impressive—but that’s a big if.
I'm a bit sorry for writing such a negative review. Normally, I know better than to read books like this; but I was forced to in my book club, and decided to keep as open a mind as possible. Well, the deed is done. Don’t get me wrong: this book is not bad because of anything “depraved” or “perverted” about the stories (not even anything "super-perverted"). This book is bad because it is badly written.
Contrary to what you might expect, this book isn’t about necrophilia, per se. To describe it generously, it is a kind of literary exploration of the connections between love and death. To do this, the author writes a succession of short stories, all having love and death as primary themes. The stories are, on the whole, rather short; but there are a lot of them.
It’s hard to know where to start. Well, for one, the writings is awful. I know such big blanket statements aren’t helpful, so I will get more specific. To start, the author is prone to overusing several mannerisms in his interior monologues; the most noticeable of these is to use three alliterative pairings in a row:
Would sadness make her sexy? Grief make her gorgeous? Mourning make her magnificent?
And again:
I wanted to retreat into that pipe dream of progress, that illusion of improvement, that hallucination of hope.
Once more:
The public could detest my documentaries, revile my reenactments, gag on my game shows…
More generally, the prose tends to be flashy and empty. To borrow one of the author’s mannerisms, the writing is studiously stupid, insistently idiotic, persistently puerile.
But besides the sickening prose, everything else is off, too. These stories have no character development, hardly a plot to speak of, and no drama. The dialogue seems like it has been lifted from a bad comic book:
“I’m just being practical,” I said. “You can’t honestly tell me you’ll never get on a plane again.”
“But how can I? There’s not really any way you can prevent hijackings. What are they going to do, make people fly naked so they can’t hide any weapons on them?”
“People could still hide things. They could pack plastic explosives in their ass.”
All of the stories are in the first person; and all of the stories I managed to get through were narrated by young males. Further, the whole spirit and outlook of these stories is that of a young male—and I mean very young. For, instead of giving us actual stories, the author—thinking himself much cleverer than he is—gives us concept-motivated pieces. Every story begins and ends with a premise; and these premises all sound as if they’re the product of a bored sixteen-year-old’s imagination, who thinks of things just to gross out his other sixteen-year old buddies during lunch break.
Consider one of his stories, “Terror Groupies.” The title sums up the story entirely: “What if suicide bombers had groupies, just like rock stars?” The story goes nowhere from that thought; and the result is unsurprisingly unappealing.
Not only are these stories tasteless, but they are tacky. They have no appeal other than their shock value—and they aren’t even shocking. It says a lot that a book promising to explore the connections between love and death managed to be so terrifically dull. Consider, further, the author’s pen name “Supervert,” an amalgam of “super-pervert.” Perhaps the author really is sixteen? If so, these stories would actually be impressive—but that’s a big if.
I'm a bit sorry for writing such a negative review. Normally, I know better than to read books like this; but I was forced to in my book club, and decided to keep as open a mind as possible. Well, the deed is done. Don’t get me wrong: this book is not bad because of anything “depraved” or “perverted” about the stories (not even anything "super-perverted"). This book is bad because it is badly written.
February 5, 2010
You pick up a book that is called Necrophilia Variations, and it is safe to assume all the stories are going to be about having sex with the dead. But Necrophilia Variations, while it does include tales of sex with dead people, is more a collection of stories of people dealing with the confluence between sex and death. The notion of le petit mort is an idea that is not new, yet the idea that the sex impulse is closely linked to death is hard for many to swallow. Though visionaries and poets, like Baudelaire, Rimbaud and Mirbeau, have tread this ground before, it is refreshing to see these sorts of ideas written by a modern for moderns. Heartbreaking, sickening, humorous – this short story collection pushes boundaries, and does not just push them for the sake of pushing, as I felt was the case when I read Bataille’s Story of the Eye (a book I am willing now to say I simply did not get and likely never will). Read the rest of the review here.
October 29, 2012
In parts it feels like an edgy college student taking creative writing wrote it. Occasionally, you'll find a gem. I really do consider this to be a lost opportunity and the idea extremely interesting. Two starts because 20% was worth reading.
December 6, 2020
One of the greatest books by one of the greatest authors. Read it in high school and continue to think about it all the time 12 plus years later.
November 19, 2008
I've read and seen a lot of sick things and usually find that genre very fascinating, even enjoyable, so I thought that I could handle just about anything...but lo and behold, this book proved me wrong.
I read the first two chapters, which are available online at the book's website, and that was pretty much enough for me.
Very detailed, very disturbing. It's not the imagery of corpses that is unsettling, it's the mentality and rationale of the narrator that is completely disturbing. His way of explaining his attraction to cadavers is, at the very least, creepy. But most sickening is the way he seems to revel in it all, musing with a certain kind of delight.
I decided that the first two chapters were enough and have no interest in reading the rest. This is a book that will seriously make you feel "f*cked up," for lack of a better word. I recall being almost angry afterwards, wishing I hadn't read it because I felt like I had just carved out a chunk of my brain and replaced it with a chunk of crap.
Read this if you'd like to skew your view on reality, morals, and ethics.
I read the first two chapters, which are available online at the book's website, and that was pretty much enough for me.
Very detailed, very disturbing. It's not the imagery of corpses that is unsettling, it's the mentality and rationale of the narrator that is completely disturbing. His way of explaining his attraction to cadavers is, at the very least, creepy. But most sickening is the way he seems to revel in it all, musing with a certain kind of delight.
I decided that the first two chapters were enough and have no interest in reading the rest. This is a book that will seriously make you feel "f*cked up," for lack of a better word. I recall being almost angry afterwards, wishing I hadn't read it because I felt like I had just carved out a chunk of my brain and replaced it with a chunk of crap.
Read this if you'd like to skew your view on reality, morals, and ethics.
December 31, 2010
There is one similarity between Necrophilia Variations and a good children's book: a penchant for exquisite presentation.
The little black gem came wrapped in crisp cardboard with a note/bookmark that introduces the reader to who (or what) Supervert is and does. [The elusive human behind Supervert 32C Inc was nice enough to sign the tome for me]. This book impresses from the first time you pick it up because it is very hefty &dense compared to what you would expect from a little paperback. Dressed in a tux, it pops out in the retina of even the most casual of observers as my reading session on a park bench quickly confirmed
The textured black paper that reminds me of the charred walls of Saint Andrew's cave (or the dried skin of a mummy) is actually the dust cover protecting the white paper back. Although I took excellent care of it, the cover is destined for a rich patina (just like a black paint Leica) with white edges and dusty textures starting to show. Similar to the subject matter this book needs to be fondled with care.
Inside my suspicions are confirmed when it is revealed that every aspect is under the creative shade of Supervert. And he needs to be applauded for such an effort. The paper is top notch with a thick ivory color, texture, vertical watermarks and a beautiful compact typeface, a bit small for my liking, but I guess one has to strain a bit for the privilege of reading NV.
I don't usually dwell on the way literature is presented but this is one instance when it is as much a part of the monograph as the stories themselves and it needs to be said that, while this book may serve a lot of purposes, a high profit margin at the expense of artistic vision isn't one of them.
Necrophilia Variations came at a right time for me. Besides re-igniting my passion for reading I had just kicked my 3 pack/day habit so the captivating read as well as the outre subject matter help take me away from my withdrawal. Although I think I have developed ADD because this review was in the pipeline for months and now it's the first time I got enough mental focus to actually do it.
So what is it? Well a simple answer would be: 32 stories revolving around “death|desire|deviance” but also isolation,desperation,joy,acceptance,loss,fulfillment, the immoral and amoral with an esoteric , sometimes philosophical approach and a healthy dose of black (and almost every other kind of..) humor
Those looking for a mindless gore-fest that might be attracted by the bold title will be partially disappointed. As they should be. No refunds for twilight-fags. This book is not populated by one-dimensional cartoonish characters that “are into dead chicks” or are trying to fulfill some crappy vampire fantasy.although one belle has a thing for their furniture sets.
An urban book. I might go as far as saying that it has a New York setting but this is because I haven't visited the place so my vision of it is Gotham with bicycles.
The characters that inhabit its Universe come across as intelligent and refined, [mostly] introspective who act more on lucid choice or accepted compulsion rather than desperation or animal lust. They take on a mostly masculine persona and whilst a few are gender-free there is no clear voice or depiction of “necro-nimphs” although they are alluded to in “How would you like it?” and one can only imagine what the terror groupies do with their prized collection.
Like the cover, Necrophilia Variation has symmetry. It begins with a light hearted necro-manifesto. A draft campaign who appeals to the narcissist in you;the kind of instance where you would like to be seen as sexy rather than repulsive and be ravaged instead of recycledalthough,in a way, necrophilia is the ultimate form of recycling(there should be a cash for clunkers where you send your dead spouse to be reused and get a voucher towards a high-end sex doll.bloody prudes ). But it ends with what I can only call as buyers-remorse as the author goes through moral backlash only to resurface in a jokers grin confident in the fertility of the little necrodisiac seed that he so masterfully planted in your simple mind.
The first person narration is one of the greatest selling points for this book. Supervert is able to slip in the POV of so many different minds and consciences, ranging from the naive and mundane to the depraved and supernatural. No doubt his work at Pervscan ,where he hand-picked and provided brilliant commentary to some of the intriguing aspects of human behavior in the news, has made him more proficient in the deviant mind than most authors could or would ever want to be
Speaking of the naive and depraved “Suicide by strumpet” sent me in a myriad of cold sweats… I've been that fucking guy. This young and restless life(and mind) of mine has taken me down Desperation Road once or twice and in my first attempt I distinctly remembered having the same internal dialogue and this similar idea of a last(executed) hoorah although mine was more akin to Fedelein’s party in Downfall.
And this is why NV could be(and by all accounts is) so personal to so many because flipping through the available reviews will show that everyone has his/her own favorites .So personal in fact that I can’t bring myself to craft a “review” of the individual stories. I love em all.or better said I dislike none which is why I find it next to impossible to comb each and every one and spurt non-sense like ‘yeah dude girls do look hotter when their papa dies’
But if an evil genie stuck a metal rod up my ass on a stormy day demanding to know mine then I would probably confess to Trauma Response Program ,which should have been made into a movie a long time ago with Scarlet johansonn as Bibi just so I can see her squirm in that bathtub. And that ambulance crawl is etched deep into my mind
When you add his on-line essay “Perversion and Terror” to the mix you get a unique viewpoint and attitude to what has to be the most spectacular event of the closing decade.
Did I mention that I was and still am terrified of dead bodies? I love grand cemeteries with that air of solemn remebrance and peace but the sight of even a fresh one makes my skin crawl.
So it will sound odd when I tell you that I had a choice between NV and his other book,Extraterestrial sex fetish .I went by name alone thinking that if the author had the cojones to splatter that bold title than it can either be brilliant or shite. If you had the patience to read this text than you already know where I stand.
February 14, 2021
" Beauty is relative - right! Do you realize that that, if true, is a veritable abyss? "
Maybe desire is not the consequence of beauty: maybe it's the cause.
What follows is quite logical: if beauty is whatever quenches the hunger of the mind, then it can take numberless shapes.
We ourselves are basically unaware of what could arouse or disgust us until we are given the chance to test our mind's reaction to a new kind of stimulus. How many times have we surprised ourselves by doing something that suddenly puts in question all our certainties and convictions?
Beauty is less in the eye than in the mind and - let's face it - in the pants of the beholder.
What Supervert deals with is an alternate dimension of beauty; the opening of a new track in the Terra Incognita of eroticism.
The finesse littéraire of this book starts with the title. "Necrophilia Variations", improvised arias on the most unsettling and unfamiliar theme one could think of.
That's what it is indeed: a collection of strange, disquieting, sometimes horrible, often poetic stories focussing on the (possibly) ultimate sexual perversion. One can choose between two slightly different viewpoints:
1- necrophilia as the furthest extreme of erotic possibilities;
2- necrophilia as the depiction of today's alienation, our attitude toward death as something utterly meaningless and cheap to be sold and bought and disposed of.
The characters are a bewildering bunch of sickos: men obsessed by gory photos, grave robbers (the young necrophile showing an elderly 'rival' his cool, ultra-modern equipment is just hilarious), husbands fantasising on long dead female writers, ruthless morticians planning to install camcorders in his caskets for the benefit of the necrophile public... all of them are fictional first-person alter egos of an author who holds nothing back and never shies away.
The message these men are carrying comes from the depths of the psyche. It's a revelation and a mystery at the same time: desire is a labyrinth in which we're dying to get lost, says Supervert... sometimes we even wall ourselves in for good.
Beware: these tales deal with morbidity and obsession. Internet, pornography, terrorism, frustrated eroticism, idealised love echo throughout the book as a background, a scenery we all are disturbingly familiar with. Like it or not, Supervert is an excellent storyteller, whose merit goes far beyond the intellectual value of his work.
In fact all of these stories are masterfully written and the characters are perfectly developed; he needs no redundant psychology lesson to portray the cocoon of insanity and isolation they live in, but also of deep satisfaction, even optimism. There's plenty of poetic lyricism, too:
" God forbid we should both go to heaven. Its endlessness would make us hate each other. Better for you to be in heaven and me in hell. We would long for each other, idealize each other. You would rail against God, since he was keeping you from consummating your love. I would send smoke signals from my pit of brimstone - love letters that smelled like sulfur and made you choke. Maybe we would even try to sneak off to purgatory for illicit rendez-vous. "
"Necrophilia Variations" is an enjoyable reading experience, weird as this might sound.
The truth is that Supervert is the spiritual offspring of the few genuinely post-modern authors of the past decades: I experienced a Stendhal's syndrome attack while reading "Post-Depravity", his only novel to date - a psychological tour de force as well as the ultimate triumph of po-mo aesthetics in literature. It took me a long time to recover, that's for sure (in the meantime I read it again... and again... and again).
Supervert's aim is neither to please nor to disgust for the sake of it: his aim is to suggest. And what he suggests is simple and tough at the same time: to think about it. To imagine what it must be like... just imagine. No strings attached.
"What are you afraid of?" he asks.
Each of us knows the answer.
Maybe desire is not the consequence of beauty: maybe it's the cause.
What follows is quite logical: if beauty is whatever quenches the hunger of the mind, then it can take numberless shapes.
We ourselves are basically unaware of what could arouse or disgust us until we are given the chance to test our mind's reaction to a new kind of stimulus. How many times have we surprised ourselves by doing something that suddenly puts in question all our certainties and convictions?
Beauty is less in the eye than in the mind and - let's face it - in the pants of the beholder.
What Supervert deals with is an alternate dimension of beauty; the opening of a new track in the Terra Incognita of eroticism.
The finesse littéraire of this book starts with the title. "Necrophilia Variations", improvised arias on the most unsettling and unfamiliar theme one could think of.
That's what it is indeed: a collection of strange, disquieting, sometimes horrible, often poetic stories focussing on the (possibly) ultimate sexual perversion. One can choose between two slightly different viewpoints:
1- necrophilia as the furthest extreme of erotic possibilities;
2- necrophilia as the depiction of today's alienation, our attitude toward death as something utterly meaningless and cheap to be sold and bought and disposed of.
The characters are a bewildering bunch of sickos: men obsessed by gory photos, grave robbers (the young necrophile showing an elderly 'rival' his cool, ultra-modern equipment is just hilarious), husbands fantasising on long dead female writers, ruthless morticians planning to install camcorders in his caskets for the benefit of the necrophile public... all of them are fictional first-person alter egos of an author who holds nothing back and never shies away.
The message these men are carrying comes from the depths of the psyche. It's a revelation and a mystery at the same time: desire is a labyrinth in which we're dying to get lost, says Supervert... sometimes we even wall ourselves in for good.
Beware: these tales deal with morbidity and obsession. Internet, pornography, terrorism, frustrated eroticism, idealised love echo throughout the book as a background, a scenery we all are disturbingly familiar with. Like it or not, Supervert is an excellent storyteller, whose merit goes far beyond the intellectual value of his work.
In fact all of these stories are masterfully written and the characters are perfectly developed; he needs no redundant psychology lesson to portray the cocoon of insanity and isolation they live in, but also of deep satisfaction, even optimism. There's plenty of poetic lyricism, too:
" God forbid we should both go to heaven. Its endlessness would make us hate each other. Better for you to be in heaven and me in hell. We would long for each other, idealize each other. You would rail against God, since he was keeping you from consummating your love. I would send smoke signals from my pit of brimstone - love letters that smelled like sulfur and made you choke. Maybe we would even try to sneak off to purgatory for illicit rendez-vous. "
"Necrophilia Variations" is an enjoyable reading experience, weird as this might sound.
The truth is that Supervert is the spiritual offspring of the few genuinely post-modern authors of the past decades: I experienced a Stendhal's syndrome attack while reading "Post-Depravity", his only novel to date - a psychological tour de force as well as the ultimate triumph of po-mo aesthetics in literature. It took me a long time to recover, that's for sure (in the meantime I read it again... and again... and again).
Supervert's aim is neither to please nor to disgust for the sake of it: his aim is to suggest. And what he suggests is simple and tough at the same time: to think about it. To imagine what it must be like... just imagine. No strings attached.
"What are you afraid of?" he asks.
Each of us knows the answer.
July 21, 2015
For people who like all of the perversity of JG Ballard without all of the social commentary and philosophical insight, there's Necrophilia Variations. Don’t get me wrong— I enjoyed Necrophilia Variations, but in the same way that I enjoy a perverse, screwed up movie. It’s a book filled with dirty fun, morbid little tales: a man calls in a hooker for his terminally ill friend and ends up with a dominatrix, a morbid woman wants to make love in a coffin and ends up snagging her hair on the handle, a would-be rock star is locked in a mausoleum with his dead ex, etc. These short stories are punctuated by shorter essays packed with purple prose about the joys of various death fetishes and dreams of a day when no proclivity is labeled as a disease.
It’s a fun read, a sort of joyous and sick meditation on the titular subject, but doesn’t go much deeper than that. There are times that it seems all the stories blur together-- all the 'protagonists' sound much the same with only a few small exceptions. The book often takes on a luridly sexist tone as women are usually and repeatedly the passive object of unnatural desire, incapable of desiring much themselves. There's a sort of sly grin, always, when women are talking. Still, despite the book's many small faults, it's an enjoyable read.
For fans of this who want an upgrade to something a little more substantive but equally provocative, pick up JG Ballard’s Crash.
It’s a fun read, a sort of joyous and sick meditation on the titular subject, but doesn’t go much deeper than that. There are times that it seems all the stories blur together-- all the 'protagonists' sound much the same with only a few small exceptions. The book often takes on a luridly sexist tone as women are usually and repeatedly the passive object of unnatural desire, incapable of desiring much themselves. There's a sort of sly grin, always, when women are talking. Still, despite the book's many small faults, it's an enjoyable read.
For fans of this who want an upgrade to something a little more substantive but equally provocative, pick up JG Ballard’s Crash.
September 4, 2021
NOT just another collection of edgy stories.
Like the best collection of edgy stories this one is bound together by theme and genuinely unique and artistic prose. Sometimes you read this stuff and think it's just another thing where gross stuff happens but with this the phrasology is actually kind of beautiful and certainly verges on erotic. Though hard for me to say on that last one, as never really been massively into erotic writing, just doesn't turn me on much.
Like the best collection of edgy stories this one is bound together by theme and genuinely unique and artistic prose. Sometimes you read this stuff and think it's just another thing where gross stuff happens but with this the phrasology is actually kind of beautiful and certainly verges on erotic. Though hard for me to say on that last one, as never really been massively into erotic writing, just doesn't turn me on much.
May 6, 2012
This marks my 200th review here in GOODREADS =P
I am in love with this book! I cannot comprehend how much I love this inanimate object. Maybe it is a form of necrophilia itself, loving a book made out of dead leaves and pulp. I cannot stop reading this book. Sometimes I force myself to literally stop this book from taking over my mind. I read this book like the Bible, only some parts at a time because I wanna savor everything it has to offer me. I have never loved a book like this. I always want to have some quiet time with this book and just read it, fantasizing about the necrophile thingies that it describe and just feel tremendous orgasms rippling all over my body. I think I am a certified necrophile and this book definitely fed my insanity and favorite fetish. I would love to meet Supervert, kiss him and let him do stuff on me because I simply love him so much. He actually sent me this book because I am such a desperate whore!
Anyway, just to give you an idea why I am so in love with this book, I am a frustrated necrophile. i love death and I find beauty in its gore and violence, and also in its peace and regal aura. I love being strange and weird but definitely, necrophilia is one of my most favorite secret joys in life. I do not do it per se, I just love reading about it and fantasizing of actually doing it for I do not think i can really do it in real life. I even made a whole book of necrophiliac poetry because I love it so much.
That is why reading this book is such a life-changing rare moments I have in my life. I am so thankful that someone with the intellect and enough twisted mind decided to write a gem like this!!! I feel so proud to have a copy because I do not think many people have this in my country. I think I am the only one, maybe. But what I am proud is I love it. I will continue to love it and will forever love it because literary-wise, the book is well-written! Very engaging, filled with with and humor and of course, creativity abounds. I cannot comprehend that a mind like this exist still! This is like a friendly 120 Days of Sodom.
Supervert, if you are reading this, please be my angel. I want you to become my master because I would gladly be a slave to a writer with this capabilities. =P You can send me your other books too if you want and I will love them and be grateful to you forever.
Enough of this for now. I am actually writing this review and I am just half-way the book. I am actually so afraid of finishing it because in my own twisted way, I want to feed on the book every now and then, because a story or two is enough to make me go into spasms.
I am in love with this book! I cannot comprehend how much I love this inanimate object. Maybe it is a form of necrophilia itself, loving a book made out of dead leaves and pulp. I cannot stop reading this book. Sometimes I force myself to literally stop this book from taking over my mind. I read this book like the Bible, only some parts at a time because I wanna savor everything it has to offer me. I have never loved a book like this. I always want to have some quiet time with this book and just read it, fantasizing about the necrophile thingies that it describe and just feel tremendous orgasms rippling all over my body. I think I am a certified necrophile and this book definitely fed my insanity and favorite fetish. I would love to meet Supervert, kiss him and let him do stuff on me because I simply love him so much. He actually sent me this book because I am such a desperate whore!
Anyway, just to give you an idea why I am so in love with this book, I am a frustrated necrophile. i love death and I find beauty in its gore and violence, and also in its peace and regal aura. I love being strange and weird but definitely, necrophilia is one of my most favorite secret joys in life. I do not do it per se, I just love reading about it and fantasizing of actually doing it for I do not think i can really do it in real life. I even made a whole book of necrophiliac poetry because I love it so much.
That is why reading this book is such a life-changing rare moments I have in my life. I am so thankful that someone with the intellect and enough twisted mind decided to write a gem like this!!! I feel so proud to have a copy because I do not think many people have this in my country. I think I am the only one, maybe. But what I am proud is I love it. I will continue to love it and will forever love it because literary-wise, the book is well-written! Very engaging, filled with with and humor and of course, creativity abounds. I cannot comprehend that a mind like this exist still! This is like a friendly 120 Days of Sodom.
Supervert, if you are reading this, please be my angel. I want you to become my master because I would gladly be a slave to a writer with this capabilities. =P You can send me your other books too if you want and I will love them and be grateful to you forever.
Enough of this for now. I am actually writing this review and I am just half-way the book. I am actually so afraid of finishing it because in my own twisted way, I want to feed on the book every now and then, because a story or two is enough to make me go into spasms.
July 29, 2024
This book is a collection of short stories revolving around necrophilia. Here's the thing, the beginning of this book is actually really good. The stories are funny and enjoyable to read. However, at a certain point, nearly every single story is plagued by an annoying amount of misogyny, which becomes repetitive and boring. The stories also get more boring as they go along, and it almost made me not want to finish the book.
I feel like the book was trying to do something it didn't really accomplish; It sort of referred to itself as this life-changing unforgettably fucked up book when in truth it really wasn't all that.
I feel like the book was trying to do something it didn't really accomplish; It sort of referred to itself as this life-changing unforgettably fucked up book when in truth it really wasn't all that.
February 16, 2020
I realize I've put myself in a bit of a quandary wanting to criticise this book, because I can't escape the fact that I was the one who bought and read a book titled Necrophilia Variations written by an author calling themself Supervert.
But here's my take: I wanted to read this as a bit of a palate cleanser, I wanted to be shocked, I wanted to check this self-styled modern de Sade, and after reading a sample of the first story (a bold, cheerful defence of necrophilia as the only moral choice when it comes to handling human remains) I thought I knew exactly what I was in for. Well I wasn't. Despite its title and marketing, only a few of the myriad of stories touch on necrophilia. Most of them are about death, specifically the fear of dying, and every short story is written in the exact same voice. All the main characters blend together (cynical young men with a more or less open disregard of women), and the only thing that makes it an easy read is really how short every story is (a lot of them two or three pages), even if most of them don't seem to have any kind of conclusion. The sex, when it occurs, is written so primly and vaguely it feels like the screen fades to black the moment people start kissing. I expected something far more out there written by someone calling themself a portmanteau of super-pervert.
There's a marked lack of editing in this book. Too many extremely similar texts are ordered one after the other, a lot of them seem like notes or prompts the writer never got around to finishing, and one block of text (a fantasy about raping a woman waiting for medical attention after a traumatic event) shows up almost verbatim in two different short stories. By the time I reached the final text, which was this smug "gotcha" that you, morbid reader, will never regard death the same way after reading this book, I was well and truly exhausted.
Two stars because there were maybe a handful of stories that very darkly comedic and memorable.
But here's my take: I wanted to read this as a bit of a palate cleanser, I wanted to be shocked, I wanted to check this self-styled modern de Sade, and after reading a sample of the first story (a bold, cheerful defence of necrophilia as the only moral choice when it comes to handling human remains) I thought I knew exactly what I was in for. Well I wasn't. Despite its title and marketing, only a few of the myriad of stories touch on necrophilia. Most of them are about death, specifically the fear of dying, and every short story is written in the exact same voice. All the main characters blend together (cynical young men with a more or less open disregard of women), and the only thing that makes it an easy read is really how short every story is (a lot of them two or three pages), even if most of them don't seem to have any kind of conclusion. The sex, when it occurs, is written so primly and vaguely it feels like the screen fades to black the moment people start kissing. I expected something far more out there written by someone calling themself a portmanteau of super-pervert.
There's a marked lack of editing in this book. Too many extremely similar texts are ordered one after the other, a lot of them seem like notes or prompts the writer never got around to finishing, and one block of text (a fantasy about raping a woman waiting for medical attention after a traumatic event) shows up almost verbatim in two different short stories. By the time I reached the final text, which was this smug "gotcha" that you, morbid reader, will never regard death the same way after reading this book, I was well and truly exhausted.
Two stars because there were maybe a handful of stories that very darkly comedic and memorable.
August 28, 2014
Synopsis
“Why would anyone want to have sex with a corpse? Because it’s there. Because it’s different. Because you can. Because you’re curious. Because you don’t know until you try.”
The basic theme of Necrophilia Variations is that of necrophilia. Like Ronseal, this book does what it says on the packet. It is a collection of short chapter-esque stories that sometimes interlink all focussing on the taboo topic of sex with the dead.
Review
Honestly, I found this book all a bit stupid. It was like it tried to be shocking but then decided to that the best way to be shocking was to normalise the act of sex with cadavers and then become blasé, to throw the term and the action round. It almost tried too hard and lost momentum when the shock value wore off. I am not sure if this is because I approached the book expecting to be blown away by its forbidden subject matter and therefore was just numb to the often repetitive descriptions but it just didn’t live up to the promise that it could have held.
Admittedly, I did find the discussion in one of the later chapters rather amusing when the ectoplasm of a ghost was likened to spiritual lubricant – ‘sperm from the after world’. That was quite entertaining but overall the book just didn’t do it for me…which I suppose is a good thing given that the major theme within its pages is necrophilia. Quite frankly, it is two hundred pages of my life that I am never getting back.
“Why would anyone want to have sex with a corpse? Because it’s there. Because it’s different. Because you can. Because you’re curious. Because you don’t know until you try.”
The basic theme of Necrophilia Variations is that of necrophilia. Like Ronseal, this book does what it says on the packet. It is a collection of short chapter-esque stories that sometimes interlink all focussing on the taboo topic of sex with the dead.
Review
Honestly, I found this book all a bit stupid. It was like it tried to be shocking but then decided to that the best way to be shocking was to normalise the act of sex with cadavers and then become blasé, to throw the term and the action round. It almost tried too hard and lost momentum when the shock value wore off. I am not sure if this is because I approached the book expecting to be blown away by its forbidden subject matter and therefore was just numb to the often repetitive descriptions but it just didn’t live up to the promise that it could have held.
Admittedly, I did find the discussion in one of the later chapters rather amusing when the ectoplasm of a ghost was likened to spiritual lubricant – ‘sperm from the after world’. That was quite entertaining but overall the book just didn’t do it for me…which I suppose is a good thing given that the major theme within its pages is necrophilia. Quite frankly, it is two hundred pages of my life that I am never getting back.
December 27, 2008
AMAZING! Various essays/short stories looking at different aspects of the fascination with death, morbidity, and sexuality. Forces you to look at things from a perspective you maybe never considered. beautifully written. i found it in a san fransisco book shop and i'm so glad i picked it up. *only* for the open-minded person not afraid of challenging your imagination with the seriously dark and unconventional. this is a book i will read again.
March 25, 2017
Drinking Gatorade out of a wine glass.
October 14, 2024
Bueno, me lo dejo a mitad porque creo que la antología no da para más y no le veo el sentido a seguir leyendo. El autor tiene alguna que otra idea elocuente, pero no sabe transportarlas a la ficción.
El autor mantiene un tono casi ensayístico que acaba por volver a gran parte de los relatos en una simple exposición de intenciones. No hay una historia como tal, si no que el narrador te explica directamente, y a veces hasta en un monólogo, el sentido de su depravación. Supongo que hay algún intento de acercarse a la prosa filosofico-sexual de Sade, pero no se alcanza en absoluto su profundidad o subversión.
Otro problema del libro es que todos los narradores suenan iguales y no hay casi diferencia entre relatos. Además, cuándo el autor intenta salir de sus monólogos y crear una historia, queda muy forzada. Es evidente que todo es una excusa para poner a dos personajes debatiendo sobre los temas que se le antojan al autor, y da fin a todo en cuanto se cansa. Ningún relato sorprende y el tono subversivo pierde pronto la gracia cuando ves que, tras toda esta depravación, no hay nada.
El autor mantiene un tono casi ensayístico que acaba por volver a gran parte de los relatos en una simple exposición de intenciones. No hay una historia como tal, si no que el narrador te explica directamente, y a veces hasta en un monólogo, el sentido de su depravación. Supongo que hay algún intento de acercarse a la prosa filosofico-sexual de Sade, pero no se alcanza en absoluto su profundidad o subversión.
Otro problema del libro es que todos los narradores suenan iguales y no hay casi diferencia entre relatos. Además, cuándo el autor intenta salir de sus monólogos y crear una historia, queda muy forzada. Es evidente que todo es una excusa para poner a dos personajes debatiendo sobre los temas que se le antojan al autor, y da fin a todo en cuanto se cansa. Ningún relato sorprende y el tono subversivo pierde pronto la gracia cuando ves que, tras toda esta depravación, no hay nada.
June 21, 2012
Necrophilia Variations could have easily been a heavy handed exploration in torture porn. Instead it explored necrophilia in a new way - in all its subtleties, nuances, and flavors - there are less stories here of fucking dead bodies (though there are a few) and more of husbands wanting to reconnect with wifes hooked up to machines, of a man digging up of a coffin to make love to his gothic girlfriend in, of searching for prostitutes for a dying friend. It's definitely gruesome but there's a tenderness that's rarely seen in such books.
I'm giving it a three for a lack of focus and a tendency toward repetition. Some of the short stories were little more than several paragraphs of questions and the voice was incredibly similar in each story - it took me a while to realize it wasn't even a cohesive narrative. However it was an enjoyable read and I'd recommend Supervert to horror fans.
I'm giving it a three for a lack of focus and a tendency toward repetition. Some of the short stories were little more than several paragraphs of questions and the voice was incredibly similar in each story - it took me a while to realize it wasn't even a cohesive narrative. However it was an enjoyable read and I'd recommend Supervert to horror fans.
June 13, 2024
Es un libro que tenía yo mucha curiosidad por leer, ahora que lo he terminado creo que ha sido una gran lectura, es difícil de describir porque sus fragmentos van desde relatos que rayan en un romanticismo enfermo hasta las reflexiones más escandalosas sobre dos temas que si bien están presentes todo el tiempo en nuestra vida, cuando se tocan suele ser complicado de aceptar, o ver: el amor (no siempre el sexo) y la muerte (o los muertos). No es un literatura erótica, aunque varios relatos es donde podrían clasificarse, por lo que pudiera esperarse fueran grotescos y violentos no suelen ser así y están escritos en su mayoría en un estilo que lo hace más interesante que repulsivo, muchas veces gracias a la muy evidente influencia de el estilo de Baudelaire. No es un libro para todos, el primer capítulo es el pasaje de entrada, si se soporta el shock inicial y se decide uno a seguir se encontrará con una lectura más ligera de lo que pareciera. Es una lástima que no exista edición en español pero con un diccionario a lado se puede sin problemas leer con un inglés algo básico.
October 17, 2024
Darkly funny and sometimes gross short stories.
There are characters who want to be cremated so they can be sprinkled into girls panties and have their clitoris as their tombstone.
Not really about banging corpses - more about the intermingling of sex and death.
I wasn’t titillated but I can see how others might find it erotic.
Trigger warning for 9/11
There are characters who want to be cremated so they can be sprinkled into girls panties and have their clitoris as their tombstone.
Not really about banging corpses - more about the intermingling of sex and death.
I wasn’t titillated but I can see how others might find it erotic.
Trigger warning for 9/11
July 24, 2022
nothing like i’ve ever read. quite disturbing and extraordinary. talks about things i could not have thought even in my dreams. a bit enlightening in that aspect.
February 12, 2017
Que el título de este libro no los confunda. No, no es una larga descripción gore de personas teniendo sexo con cadáveres; es, en realidad, un serie de historias cortas sobre la relación que tiene el hombre con las ideas de la muerte, el sexo y las relaciones personales. Con cuentos que van de lo crudamente violento al humor más negro, Supervert logró meter en mi cabeza algunas ideas que me mantuvieron despierta varias noches (¿en qué forma se acercará la muerte? ¿será dolorosa? ¿cómo será morir? cosas de ese estilo [ugh, siento que entré en la middle age crisis]).
Pareciera que la mayoría de las historias están narradas por hombres (y el desarrollo de las mismas a veces demostró que los personajes principales eran masculinos), pero el hecho de que la mayoría de ellas estén narradas en primera persona permite que el lector se ponga en los zapatos, por un momento, de estos "amantes de la muerte". De esta forma uno es capaz de entender cómo las nociones de la belleza, el deseo y el amor son relativas y dependen completamente de los diferentes puntos de vista de cada persona.
Bonus: referencia a Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, de Stevenson, yaaay.
Pareciera que la mayoría de las historias están narradas por hombres (y el desarrollo de las mismas a veces demostró que los personajes principales eran masculinos), pero el hecho de que la mayoría de ellas estén narradas en primera persona permite que el lector se ponga en los zapatos, por un momento, de estos "amantes de la muerte". De esta forma uno es capaz de entender cómo las nociones de la belleza, el deseo y el amor son relativas y dependen completamente de los diferentes puntos de vista de cada persona.
Bonus: referencia a Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, de Stevenson, yaaay.
June 26, 2016
Ok. So. Where do I begin.
This book was so bizarre i even found it funny (for the most of it). It's not so much about having sex with the death (in fact, even tho it's talked about extensibly and imagined on some occasion, i think it never actually really happens). It was interesting and imaginative and had some very good ideas in the mix of the whole thing.
However, i found it really annoying that EVERY SINGLE PROTAGONIST was clearly (although never explicitly) a cis white men in his twenties. And kind of an asshole as well. I think it would have been interesting to see other people having a say on the subject. Most of the stories i loved, although by the middle it started to feel repetitive (partly because of the abundance of cis white male having the same oponion, but having a different job and different friends and a different girlfriend or whatever).
I only found one or two scenes truly disturbing, and neither of them had something to do with death.
I don't think i would recommend the book itself, but perhaps a some of the stories.
This book was so bizarre i even found it funny (for the most of it). It's not so much about having sex with the death (in fact, even tho it's talked about extensibly and imagined on some occasion, i think it never actually really happens). It was interesting and imaginative and had some very good ideas in the mix of the whole thing.
However, i found it really annoying that EVERY SINGLE PROTAGONIST was clearly (although never explicitly) a cis white men in his twenties. And kind of an asshole as well. I think it would have been interesting to see other people having a say on the subject. Most of the stories i loved, although by the middle it started to feel repetitive (partly because of the abundance of cis white male having the same oponion, but having a different job and different friends and a different girlfriend or whatever).
I only found one or two scenes truly disturbing, and neither of them had something to do with death.
I don't think i would recommend the book itself, but perhaps a some of the stories.
February 13, 2017
“It is one of the considerable privileges of art that the horrible can be transformed, through artful expression, into beauty.” — Charles Baudelaire
February 9, 2020
Necrophilia Variations takes our normal repulsion to the idea of sexual attraction to corpses, washes it, gives it a haircut, teaches it to read some philosophy, and gives it back to us. This time, its a bit easier to see that "necrophilia" can be twisted up in an artsy way of looking at how love and death have a complicated relationship. But still with erections and sadism because we like to have a good time.
It's easy to assume that the book might be trying to hard to be edgy, like you're being forced to accept how death loves beauty in abstract ways: some stories definitely try to guide the readers emotions (even making me empathize with how lonely a buried corpse must get), but most of the stories are just fun to read and make good use of the theme, provided you're willing to let your morals slip juuuust a little bit. But that shouldn't be a problem. We know you're only here because you saw Stoya riding that vibrator.
4.5/5
It's easy to assume that the book might be trying to hard to be edgy, like you're being forced to accept how death loves beauty in abstract ways: some stories definitely try to guide the readers emotions (even making me empathize with how lonely a buried corpse must get), but most of the stories are just fun to read and make good use of the theme, provided you're willing to let your morals slip juuuust a little bit. But that shouldn't be a problem. We know you're only here because you saw Stoya riding that vibrator.
4.5/5
September 19, 2015
It's sort of difficult to rate this book, since Necrophilia Variations is a collection of short stories and brief descriptive vignettes which vary enormously in quality. Some are redundant and sophomorically written, but there are also a few real gems and excellent images in here. Overall a very fun read, I would definitely recommend it for any fans of offbeat erotica or folks with a proclivity for the dead.
August 9, 2019
read as much as I'm going to. It read like it was contracted out to someone who couldn't turn down the money yet had no idea how Thanatos and Eros can combine and be erotic. Like a prude writing gross-out ideas for a 14 year old audience, most of them.
The one that Stoya read for Hysterical Literature was of course good. But there's so, so much sub-mediocre in this that I'll never finish it.
The one that Stoya read for Hysterical Literature was of course good. But there's so, so much sub-mediocre in this that I'll never finish it.
April 1, 2021
A collection of 32 stories, or something like that. I rated each one and it averaged out to 3.23. I seemed to enjoy the second half more than the first half over-all. Some stories I liked, some I hated. It's...disturbing at times, thought-provoking at times, wtf is wrong with you (and me for reading this) at times.
May 22, 2025
This is going to be a postmodern classic, challenging the reader's morality and subjectivity. Everyone should read this at least once; no matter if one hates it or loves it, it is thought-provoking and full of morbid humor.
June 12, 2015
There were some chapters I liked, some that I didn't, at some I was totally clueless but I did enjoy reading this. It's like a mix of shorts stories and by the end of each on, I'd have to remind myself these are all elatedly necrophiliac.
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