The only thing of any lasting value in the publicity surrounding the bad sex award is the award itself. It has carved a unique space for itself in the awards canon despite being in the league of googlies like the Ig-Nobels. The Indian interest is in Tehelka's environment being very conducive to bad sex writing. Some years back, Aniruddha Bahal, more known for pulling a mild shakeout within the BJP with his exposé, won it for his Bunker 13. And this year, Tarun Tejpal's The Alchemy of Desire is in the reckoning for this not exactly bad piece of kinkiness:
Leaving everything else for later, I went looking for where her hair began and worked my way through its musky trails to where there was none. And having found her burning core, and having drunk of it, I left it, and wandered her body, only to keep circling back to it for sustenance.
We began to climb peaks and fall off them. We did old things in new ways. And new things in old ways. At times like these we were the work of surrealist masters. Any body part could be joined to any body part. And it would result in a masterpiece. Toe and tongue. Nipple and penis. Finger and the bud. Armpit and mouth. Nose and clitoris. Clavicle and gluteus maximus. Mons veneris and phallus indica.
The Last Tango of Labia Minora. Circa 1987. Vasant Kunj. By Salvador Dalí. Draughtsmen: Fizznme.
Fizz screamed silently through it all - through gritted teeth, through wide-open mouth - and only those who have known a woman screaming silently in orgasm know how loud it is. It ripped through the room and set me to pounding frenzies.
Paul Theroux and John Updike are perennial favourites for the award. They land up on the shortlist every other year. Longlisted passages here.
Turns out the award does manage to live up...uhm down to its name. Giles Coren has won it for this rather novel description of the mayhem that the male member can unleash :)
And he came hard in her mouth and his dick jumped around and rattled on her teeth and he blacked out and she took his dick out of her mouth and lifted herself from his face and whipped the pillow away and he gasped and glugged at the air, and he came again so hard that his dick wrenched out of her hand and a shot of it hit him straight in the eye and stung like nothing he'd ever had in there, and he yelled with the pain, but the yell could have been anything, and as she grabbed at his dick, which was leaping around like a shower dropped in an empty bath, she scratched his back deeply with the nails of both hands and he shot three more times, in thick stripes on her chest. Like Zorro.
What was that? A penis or a dead lizard suddenly sprung to life? You decide.