I've got a S.E.C.R.E.T. ...

So a couple of days into December, I got a slim little package in the mail from Random House. In said package was a teensy little promo book--a slice, a couple of chapters--for S.E.C.R.E.T, the Canadian erotic novel set to publish in February that's being billed as the next Fifty Shades of Grey.

I won't lie: I laughed. Quite hard.

I might have to write Random House an email, I thought. And remind them, ever so gently, that I'm probably not the best person to talk about, or comment on, erotica. 

I mean -- it's not like I haven't read the stuff. I was all over that Sleeping Beauty business about halfway through high school, and, uh, there was also a time, again in my teens, when I may or may not have signed up to the Doubleday Book Club (Canadian version) specifically so that I could order from their erotica section and have the books delivered to me without fear of anyone parental finding out.

But when the whole Fifty Shades phenomenon happened last year, I mostly looked at it and thought, meh. (Which is maybe a tad ironic, given the fact that MIRACLES has its own dance with rough sex and then some. But there--that's a whole other post now, isn't it?) This was fueled in part by the fact that everyone I knew talked about how awful Fifty Shades was, how badly it had been put together. (Roxane Gay also wrote an excellent essay about the trilogy. Roxane Gay writes excellent essays about most things, as I know I've said a million times.) This was also fueled in part by my usual knee-jerk reaction to Big Things In Publishing. Oh, everyone's going on and on about Book X, I think. Give me a break. Don't they know there are plenty of equally deserving books out there? WHERE'S YOUR IMAGINATION, PEOPLE? The point being, I suppose, that I more or less rolled my eyes and waited for the Erotica Wave to pass. The Vampire Thing passed. The Dystopian YA had its 15 minutes. Only a matter of time, then, for Erotica to go down the same path.

Here's the thing, though -- I cracked open that little teaser (oh, haha) of a book. And when I finished, my first thought was, Huh. I kind of wish they'd sent me the entire book ...

But look what arrived in my mailbox yesterday afternoon ...

Full disclosure: I read the entire thing in an hour and a half. Full disclosure Part Deux: I liked it. A great deal more than I thought I would. In a world saturated with all things Fifty Shades, up to and beyond the point of silliness, S.E.C.R.E.T. felt like something ... substantial. There's a storyline. There's a main character, Cassie Robichaud, who isn't some waifish blue-eyed cut-out. There are, in keeping with the erotica theme, naturally, quite a few husky attractive men.

But there is no Prince Charming--or, rather, no Prince Charming as we've come to know him recently in chick lit literature. There's a guy that Cassie has a crush on, sure. His name's Will. He's her boss. They are pals. She's not with him for a whole bunch of reasons, not the least of which being he already has a (snappy, attractive) girlfriend.

What keeps Cassie away from Will, though -- what in many ways underpins the entire novel -- has less to do with Will's girlfriend (he's not that into her, which is soon made clear) and more to do with Cassie's crippling sense of self-esteem. We learn early on that she's a widow, but we also learn early on that she's a widow from a relationship that wasn't all that healthy, and recognize that she's grieving the loss of years that she spent with her ex-husband more than anything else. We learn that she's lonely. We learn that she wants to open up, but doesn't feel herself deserving of it.

And then, one day, Cassie finds herself drawn into the world of S.E.C.R.E.T, an organization in New Orleans whose sole purpose is to provide women with the opportunity to explore their sexual fantasies, helping them to become better individuals in the process. Their whole package is contained in a neat ten-step process, corresponding to ten sexual fantasies that occur over the course of a year. For each fantasy that she encounters, Cassie moves one step further along the S.E.C.R.E.T path, slowly discovering her desires and seeing how doing so impacts and opens up her entire life.

I thought this sounded cheesy when I first read about the book. But somehow it works. S.E.C.R.E.T makes the quest for sexual fulfillment sound downright empowering. A woman, exploring sex purely for the thrill of finding out what makes her hot? How novel! No prolonged love interest, just a bunch of sexy men with whom she gets to play make believe? How exciting! And all of this brought about by a bunch of matronly women -- the S.E.C.R.E.T. Board of Directors, if you will -- who do what they do just for the joy of seeing someone blossom into a fully realized sexual self?

Refreshing -- that's the best word I can use to describe it.

Of course, it's not perfect. The sex, given that it's supposed to be erotica, is at times surprisingly bland, and yet somehow we're told that Cassie has an amazing time, every time, and at every encounter reaches her orgasm in roughly six seconds. And every single guy that Cassie meets over the course of the novel is standard romance-novel handsome. (Maybe this is all it takes for the Six-Second-Orgasm to appear? I dunno.) There's lots of talk about chiseled abs, and dark hair and blue eyes, stubbly chins, etc etc. Also, the sex is all heteronormative. Man, woman, missionary. (There are a few, but only a few, exceptions.) The fantasies, such as they are, are actually kind of tame -- whipped cream, sex in public, even a rescue fantasy where she gets Saved by a Big Hunky Man -- and while this might not actually be a bad thing, given that it's the emotional growth of the character that's really the strong point of the book, I found this at times a tad unsettling. I understand that we're working within the confines of a genre, here. I also understand that the fantasies, conjured as they are to support the development (as per the S.E.C.R.E.T. plan) of someone who's only just breaking out of her shell, thus reflect her own tentative yearnings. Doesn't really make sense (on some level, anyway -- what's that they say about never expecting it from the quiet ones?) to have her go from shy and retiring one minute to tramping around as a naked goddess the next. Sure.

But given that the novel is, in its way, a book about empowerment, I feel like there was space for the development and the exploration to be a little less ... predictable. A little more empowering. The idea of a female-only organization setting women up on sexy coital encounters -- with little to no talk of how the men play into things, other than as willing participants! -- was and is fun and exciting. I was particularly fascinated by the fact that the main character suddenly finds herself in a network of supportive people who just want her to have good sex, and take all measures possible to ensure that she is safe and comfortable and able to do so. Why don't they push her a little more? Why doesn't she push herself?

Having said all that, this is clearly the first novel in what's no doubt destined to be a successful series. So maybe the wilder fantasies will, er, come. My fingers are crossed.

Oh, and just so you know -- Team Pastry Chef. All the freaking way.