Word: sodom
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...same time a sexual dyspeptic; too much was not enough. His pleasure was pain, and pain was his pleasure. Jail confined him to the not inconsiderable pleasures of his imagination, and over 20 years he wrote his blue masterpieces, The Bedroom Philosophers, The 120 Days of Sodom, Justine, and Juliette, in which he gave literary form if not, as he hoped, philosophic status to his aberrations...
When New York Customs men put the arm on twelve questionable books mailed from France (sample titles: Sodom, Lust, Busy Bodies') and kept them impounded for five months, the importer, one Mel Friedman, decided to fight back. "Having concluded that the Government suppressed the books for an unlawfully protracted time" without initiating any legal proceeding, said Frankel, it was only proper that they be released-"even though we go on the assumption that the books are indeed obscene...
...impossible-the totally unlimited freedom of man-and pushed the concept into insanity. Along the way Sade desperately tried to force his imagination beyond human limits by inventing inhuman horrors, but he only managed to make his compilation shatteringly dreary. Toward the end of his 120 Days of Sodom he was no longer really writing, but simply setting down long lists of neatly numbered and tersely outlined enormities-the effect being ludicrous and totally unreal. Much of the current writing on sex approaches this quality of mechanical repetition and unreality...
...smaller arks has been moored just below a tributary of the Tiber; soon the gates will be open and the deluge will result. Sodom has been built out of charred plastic and spreads over 25 acres of Mount Etna. Katherine Dunham and her dancers were called in to provide the sin. Huston filmed Sodom dimly lit, and shied clear of the debauches of DeMille's epics. "There's no obscenity," says Huston, "but you will know unspeakable things are going...
...decolletage was as breathcatching as the Grande Corniche, her hair was hennaed, her makeup stark white; her expressive arms were encased in black gloves to the knobby elbow, and from her thin, lacquered lips slipped a repertory of chansons more Rabelaisian, Evangelist Dwight Moody once grieved, than any "Sodom ever produced." That was French Disease Yvette Guilbert, the ex-seamstress whose reputation became as luminous and lurid as the Divine Sarah or Eleonora Duse...