Things Better Left Buried
Exquisite Corpse by Poppy Z. Brite
My rating: 1 of 5 stars
There will always be a special place in my heart for Poppy Z. Brite. When I was a teenager in the 90s, living in Hong Kong and without any clues or access to anything unashamedly gay, her fiction's blend of gay melodrama, horror and goth/indie music seemed like an explosive revelation to me. I still remember reading a review of her novel "Drawing Lines" in the NME and then nervously ordering it from a bookshop (the copy had to be flown into HK for me!) When I got the call that the book had arrived, I nervously went to collect it - fearing all sorts of repercussions for purchasing such a "filthy" book. The scenes of gay sex between the two main characters were the first of the kind I'd ever read in literature (I don't count the one I read in my mom's copy of Danielle Steel's "Family Album" because it never went into details of what they did in bed.)
But our first loves aren't always what's best for us. When you've never been kissed, any sloppy first pucker can seem marvelous; and when your literary tastes have always navigated between Tolkien and Stephen King, Poppy Z. Brite must read like literary revolution. Then you grow up, get more (and better) kisses, get more sex, discover the Western literary canon, and suddenly Poppy Z. Brite's gory hearts pulch loudly and the sadistic details of her serial killers seem as pointed and fascinating as a teen's carved graffiti on a desk chair.
After "Exquisite Corpse", I believe Poppy Z. Brite turned her back on the horror genre and moved into the "culinary" genre. That's a move I can respect, though I can never return to these early books of hers and enjoy them as I once did. My taste for the rotten is gone.
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