Good grief. I am in the middle of the book, but I really thought this would be more scandalous for all the hullabaloo. Just for a reminder of the frequently challenged status and long-standing ban of this novel, nothing says “I need a brown paper wrap” like manilla on orange color blocking.
To be honest, I don’t feel that the sex in the book is really over the top or even the point. It reads almost like mild, factual observations–kind of like a wildlife documentary–but as a small segment of the whole picture of a woman isolated from life by cultural obligation and expectations.
What I do not understand: How in the hell does she manage to not scream at the top of her lungs or shatter every breakable thing in the house?