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Ailene Nou
A book for those who are sexually liberated,
and for some who accept they are not.
Literary / Fiction / Criticism
I. fiction II. monogamy III. cuckoldry
IV. adultery V. infidelity VI. literary criticism
VII. Nude photography VIII. Adam Phillips
IX. Miguel De Cervantes X. Leo Tolstoy
XI. Claire-Louise Bennett XII. Eimear McBride
XIII. D.H. Lawrence XIV. Elfriede Jelinek
XV. Chris Kraus
Warning: Any individual not fully prepared to indulge in conventions of sex and marriage is herewith forewarned. This novella, and the accompanying additional source material, may in fact induce mutation in some sexual relationships.
and for some who accept they are not.
Literary / Fiction / Criticism
I. fiction II. monogamy III. cuckoldry
IV. adultery V. infidelity VI. literary criticism
VII. Nude photography VIII. Adam Phillips
IX. Miguel De Cervantes X. Leo Tolstoy
XI. Claire-Louise Bennett XII. Eimear McBride
XIII. D.H. Lawrence XIV. Elfriede Jelinek
XV. Chris Kraus
Warning: Any individual not fully prepared to indulge in conventions of sex and marriage is herewith forewarned. This novella, and the accompanying additional source material, may in fact induce mutation in some sexual relationships.
80 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 21, 2017
128 people want to read
About the author
M. Sarki
20 books238 followersFor the last several years M Sarki has maintained a literary blog called The Rogue Literary Society. Sarki can now be found more liberally on Substack https://substack.com/@msarki where he publishes his critical views on subjects and books read, photographs and nude art collaborations with his wife, as well as periodical attempts at creating poetic artifacts. Since 2000 Sarki has produced four collections of poetry and four books of prose.
M Sarki has also written, directed, and produced four short art films titled Gnoman's Bois de Rose, Biscuits and Striola, The Tools of Migrant Hunters, My Father's Kitchen, and he is the author of the feature film screenplay, Alphonso Bow.
--
m sarki
mewlhouse@gmail.com
M Sarki has also written, directed, and produced four short art films titled Gnoman's Bois de Rose, Biscuits and Striola, The Tools of Migrant Hunters, My Father's Kitchen, and he is the author of the feature film screenplay, Alphonso Bow.
--
m sarki
mewlhouse@gmail.com
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
November 22, 2017
WARNING: THE BELOW REVIEW CONTAINS GRAPHIC LANGUAGE BEFITTING THE WORK. THIS WARNING IS HOPEFULLY LONG ENOUGH TO BLOCK THE BODY OF THE REVIEW FROM YOUR FEED—THE MANAGEMENT
Let’s talk about fucking. Why not? We all do it, in some form or another, and you and whoever your lucky intimate is have likely used the term in sexual congress (lights out, under a hair-sheet, large crucifix between your bodies) or outside of it. Everyone over a certain age figures out that fucking, sex, and making love are the corporeal embodiment of the Trinity: each exist as one entity, yet are simultaneously three separate articles unto themselves. To bleed the metaphor, when one prays to God, he or she is not obviating the Holy Ghost’s presence. Likewise, while one is engaged in some old-fashioned fucking, they are not denying the gravity of love making, just choosing to fuck instead (ostensibly the same basic physiological nuts and bolts apply to both).
On the surface, Ailene Nou is about fucking, not making love or even having sex. A superficial reading by an easily-offended party would likely not offer anything beyond the traumatic reoccurrences of certain slang terms for genitalia (who these people are and how they spawn is entirely beyond me) or the focused, sexual thrust of this marvelous novella. However, below that surface—that sweaty, sticky, squishy surface—lies a love story between a man and a woman that is raw, realistic, and refreshingly honest. If all you get out of it is fucking, then you’re missing out on a whole lot and, in all honesty, probably a terrible lay.
Sarki is a sneaky creature. He promises in the frontispiece that this book may cause “sexual mutation” (aka Advanced Forms of Fuckery), and then proceeds to tell us a story from the point-of-view of a 62-year-old woman. The brilliance is that he doesn’t position the two as being mutually exclusive; his protagonist is no less sexual a being than the beautiful boys and girls fortuned by youth in so many trash-cum-novels (see: the popular stuff on Goodreads). Is a 62-year-old woman not worthy of fetishization or, better yet, allowed to have fetishes of her own? You say, ‘of course.’ Society says otherwise. In doubt? Turn on the TV.
Sarki, known primarily as a poet, communicates emotional honesty in the same vein that Raymond Carver and William Vollmann do. Another reviewer compares him to Bukowski, but that’s short shrift to Sarki (say that three times fast) if you ask me. Translation: forthright, direct language that doesn’t drown itself in simile and metaphor, rather, captures the real way that couples talk to one another—the manner in which consenting adults own their sexuality rather than the banal, neutered pseudo-porn caricatures of mainstream Romance, YA, Fantasy and the other book-shaped micro-phalli of mediocrity.
Lastly, there is an undeniable sweetness running throughout Ailene Nou, one that gradually comes cresting to the fore. Sarki’s attention to the littlest details that we accumulate and his flowerless prose only serve to heighten the same. The following passage left me doubtless of his artistry. Like the picture it mentions, it too is an aching snapshot of the unguarded fumblings that we retain and file among the millions of other episodic misadventures that eventually coalesce into what is generally referred to as ‘lifetime:’
“There was nothing he could do about me standing behind his chair, pressing one of my breasts into his shoulder and then against his ear, slipping a photograph onto his desk showing me in the hospital years ago breastfeeding my baby. It was the only picture I had at the time showing me at all naked. My bare breast bursting and my baby latched onto it. Kind of silly now looking back that I would consider that picture sexy enough to turn a man on. But I did, and like I said, it was the only picture I had to excite him and project what I intended him to have.”
Tell it, sister.
Let’s talk about fucking. Why not? We all do it, in some form or another, and you and whoever your lucky intimate is have likely used the term in sexual congress (lights out, under a hair-sheet, large crucifix between your bodies) or outside of it. Everyone over a certain age figures out that fucking, sex, and making love are the corporeal embodiment of the Trinity: each exist as one entity, yet are simultaneously three separate articles unto themselves. To bleed the metaphor, when one prays to God, he or she is not obviating the Holy Ghost’s presence. Likewise, while one is engaged in some old-fashioned fucking, they are not denying the gravity of love making, just choosing to fuck instead (ostensibly the same basic physiological nuts and bolts apply to both).
On the surface, Ailene Nou is about fucking, not making love or even having sex. A superficial reading by an easily-offended party would likely not offer anything beyond the traumatic reoccurrences of certain slang terms for genitalia (who these people are and how they spawn is entirely beyond me) or the focused, sexual thrust of this marvelous novella. However, below that surface—that sweaty, sticky, squishy surface—lies a love story between a man and a woman that is raw, realistic, and refreshingly honest. If all you get out of it is fucking, then you’re missing out on a whole lot and, in all honesty, probably a terrible lay.
Sarki is a sneaky creature. He promises in the frontispiece that this book may cause “sexual mutation” (aka Advanced Forms of Fuckery), and then proceeds to tell us a story from the point-of-view of a 62-year-old woman. The brilliance is that he doesn’t position the two as being mutually exclusive; his protagonist is no less sexual a being than the beautiful boys and girls fortuned by youth in so many trash-cum-novels (see: the popular stuff on Goodreads). Is a 62-year-old woman not worthy of fetishization or, better yet, allowed to have fetishes of her own? You say, ‘of course.’ Society says otherwise. In doubt? Turn on the TV.
Sarki, known primarily as a poet, communicates emotional honesty in the same vein that Raymond Carver and William Vollmann do. Another reviewer compares him to Bukowski, but that’s short shrift to Sarki (say that three times fast) if you ask me. Translation: forthright, direct language that doesn’t drown itself in simile and metaphor, rather, captures the real way that couples talk to one another—the manner in which consenting adults own their sexuality rather than the banal, neutered pseudo-porn caricatures of mainstream Romance, YA, Fantasy and the other book-shaped micro-phalli of mediocrity.
Lastly, there is an undeniable sweetness running throughout Ailene Nou, one that gradually comes cresting to the fore. Sarki’s attention to the littlest details that we accumulate and his flowerless prose only serve to heighten the same. The following passage left me doubtless of his artistry. Like the picture it mentions, it too is an aching snapshot of the unguarded fumblings that we retain and file among the millions of other episodic misadventures that eventually coalesce into what is generally referred to as ‘lifetime:’
“There was nothing he could do about me standing behind his chair, pressing one of my breasts into his shoulder and then against his ear, slipping a photograph onto his desk showing me in the hospital years ago breastfeeding my baby. It was the only picture I had at the time showing me at all naked. My bare breast bursting and my baby latched onto it. Kind of silly now looking back that I would consider that picture sexy enough to turn a man on. But I did, and like I said, it was the only picture I had to excite him and project what I intended him to have.”
Tell it, sister.
February 7, 2017
I blazed through this novella so fast it felt like a short story. It was a fascinating rumination on temptation and sexual liberty in a relationship of an aging couple, a subject matter that feels fresh and ripe for further literary exploration. Salient quotes are peppered throughout the unadorned, sincerely-told narrative (Bukowski comes to mind) to provide a nice balance and depth to the piece. For those who are not easily offended, tasteful nude photos also add an authenticity to the poignant events. The 'reviews' that follow the novella neither detracted nor added to the overall statement in my opinion, but may require reading the analyzed works for full appreciation. I think a collection of stories centered around the characters in Ailene would be a great idea.
January 29, 2017
https://msarki.tumblr.com/post/156211...
Perhaps the most courageous attempt thus made in composing a significant fiction. A book for those who are sexually liberated, and for some who accept they are not.
Warning: Any individual not fully prepared to indulge in conventions of sex and marriage is herewith forewarned. This novella, and the accompanying additional source material, may in fact induce mutation in some sexual relationships.
Perhaps the most courageous attempt thus made in composing a significant fiction. A book for those who are sexually liberated, and for some who accept they are not.
Warning: Any individual not fully prepared to indulge in conventions of sex and marriage is herewith forewarned. This novella, and the accompanying additional source material, may in fact induce mutation in some sexual relationships.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews