Is Reading Smut As Bad As Watching Porn?
Our society has recently come to a few conclusions about pornography–not that its production and dissemination is reprehensible, and that it harms men and women and their views about sexuality. No, our society has looked at the deleterious effects pornography has wrought on our culture and advocated for more, not less, pornography, but produced quote-unquote “ethically.”
It’s not that all pornography is bad and bad for our society. It’s that male-directed, male-led, male-produced pornography for the fulfillment of the ‘male gaze’ is what’s really harming us.
It could be for this very reason that we’ve seen a meteoric rise, along with the increasing popularity of Book TikTok (known as BookTok), in smut literature or ‘spicy’ novels, usually written primarily by women, for women. Smut literature used to be known as erotica, and it used to be as socially impermissible as actual porn you’d see electronically. Nowadays, smut is targeted to young women–and it’s just as obscene and uninspired as the conventional porn we’re used to.
The Mass Popularity Of Smut
BookTok is largely responsible for the resurgence of the genre known as smut, but it didn’t start there. The first ‘erotic’ novel as we know it–titled Fanny Hill, or Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, was first published in 1748 and recounts the activities of a London-based prostitute. The book was banned for centuries and published illegally, until the 1960’s–which obviously coincided with the sexual revolution. But for Millennials in particular, and Gen Z by extension, the smut fervor didn’t really begin until 2011, when Fifty Shades of Grey was released.
Though it’s not exactly a literary heavyweight, Fifty Shades of Grey legitimized erotic fiction, making smut something that could be read on public transportation or in coffee shops in addition to being read in private. It was commercially successful, followed up with two other books, and became a lucrative movie franchise starring well-known celebs. All of a sudden, smut or erotica wasn’t just something your mom’s book club was reading. Everyone was into it, and that popularity only increased exponentially with the release of TikTok.
TikTok has further validated the smut literature craze and made it not only popular, but accessible to a wider audience and hugely profitable. Some fans even see it as the sex education they never received, and trendy, eye-catching covers have replaced the cheesy paperbacks most of us know. Though adults might be the ideal target audience for these novels, because they’re on TikTok, they’re inevitably reaching a younger and younger crowd.
Not only that, but smut as a genre has certain ideological overtones–it’s viewed by many as a natural response to apparent “patriarchal” conversations which govern pornography and sexuality, specifically women’s sexuality. One online service connected to TikTok sends subscribers an erotic novel and a sex toy each month, and a “women’s sexual health” app is heavily touted alongside weekly book picks. Smut literature, for some, might be about empowerment through exploration of sexuality, but there’s no denying it’s a business as well.
Erotica Versus Pornography
What is it about smut literature that appeals so much to women? Unsurprisingly, it’s the biological difference between men and women that could explain it. Because we know that men are visual creatures, it should be unsurprising to us that something like electronic pornography is engaging and attractive to them. For men, seeing the sexual act in isolation (independent of things like time, place, environment, etc.) is enough for them to be satisfied.
But as most women know, we just need more. We need emotions, feelings, and a story. It’s important to us in order to feel relaxed and even turned on that we have some sort of context. We need to have an idea of who the individual is that we’re having sex with, which is why strings-free sex is so often so disastrous for us. We need to be tied to and invested in the couple before the sex ever arises, which is why (biologically) we’re drawn to something like erotic literature rather pornography. We need a narrative first to be subsequently satisfied by the sex, and in electronic pornography, that’s less of a concern.
Because what’s permissible on TV and even on social media has expanded so much within the last decade, our definition of pornography should expand with it. Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart said that while he couldn’t outright define pornography, he knew it when he saw it. These days, even a Tweet, an Instagram post, or a show on HBO could fall under that umbrella. Porn, as we used to know it at least, isn’t just porn anymore. It’s in everything and being consumed by everyone, and that includes books.
Erotic fiction or smut literature, whatever you want to call it, is just as intentionally obscene and degenerate as electronic pornography, and it prides itself on being so. Just because it’s a book doesn’t mean it’s more wholesome and less harmless, though that might be a common misconception. And if it’s used for the same ends that pornography is–to gratify the individual–then it’s merely pornography in another medium.
How Different Is It?
Some might argue that because pornography operates on exploiting individuals, smut literature isn’t pornography because it’s purely fictitious. No one’s being harmed or exploited. But the same is true for the “ethically produced” pornography that feminists are peddling these days. It’s commercialized sex, or sex sold for profit. And more importantly, it waters down intimacy to just sex, degrading it to an act two strangers or even two fictitious people engage in for the voyeuristic, hollow pleasure of someone else.
Similar to how there’s no relationship in pornography–no real, lasting connection at least–there’s no relationship between two fictitious characters who are a creation of the author’s imagination. Pornography, in any context, cheapens intimacy and makes our relationship to it or our perspective on it perverse and disjointed. We know that pornography gives individuals an unhealthy sense of what true intimacy looks like. Isn’t it possible that erotic fiction could have the same effect?
As enjoyable as literature can be, it’s extremely unlikely that we’ll have to share a hotel room with a European prince, or that the co-worker we hate will seduce us in the elevator. Descriptive, well-written sex, even on the page, isn’t as satisfying to read as it actually is to have in real life with someone we love. We might even start to believe that anything fiction can conjure up is better than the real thing, especially if our real-world love life is less than stellar.
But that’s what pornography does. It shapeshifts intimacy into something momentarily passionate, and leads us to believe it’s as good–if not better--than the real thing. In the process, it makes us entirely dependent on what it sells, and we become isolated or even immune to the kind of intimacy the real world has to offer.
Closing Thoughts
It’s completely understandable to be attracted to gripping plots, fantastical characters, and their steamy escapades, even if they’re not well-crafted or well-written. The production value isn’t normally what we go for in pornography anyway, after all. But as is the case with all pornography, it’s well known that in this instance, reality is much better (and more rewarding) than fiction.