Yeah, I'm talking about sex. So are some other people.

Read it. Absorb it.

But lovers of literature long for passages that capture real desire in all its frailty, unseared by cynicism, describing the compromised circumstances of the act while protecting the hope invested by the reader. Literary sex, it seems, is best defined by enthusiasm for the characters, the act and the language — be it as celebratory as Henry Miller's, as funny as Philip Roth's, or as steely as Mary Gaitskill's.