Five seconds after that, Al grunted, "Oh. Shit...I love dese fuckin' nasty white holes." (Jesus, Eric felt really low and really good...) Then the warmth pulled from Eric's back.
He flinched, because, yes, KY or no, Al's pullout stung.
"Jesus, that looked fuckin' great..." someone said, it took a second for Eric to realize that, over Dynamite's shoulder, it was Shit.
Dynamite had taken seconds to harden – and took seconds to soften. Eric sucked the firm cock as deep as he could and wallowed cum around it, even prizing his tongue beneath the foreskin to let some liquid in, till the man's hands halted his head.
The muscles at the back of Dynamite's cock tightened – familiar from Pickle – as a spurt of salt urine flushed Eric's mouth...surprising him (Pickle primed or not). Eric sucked deep again, swallowing. He kept at it, ten, fifteen, twenty seconds, hoping for more, even as he still his tongue. Finally, looking up, he saw the man grinning down. (Eric patted Dynamite's leg, squeezed it.) But that was all that happened. Dynamite's grip loosened around his head and he let Eric back away. (pp. 48-49)
Samuel Delany's 2012 novel, Through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders, is as difficult of a work to sum up in a pithy review as it might be for many readers to read it at length. Is it a "pornographic" novel, whatever that work might mean beyond the graphic exposition of detailed sexual acts? Is it a story of community, in which those bound by common desires congregate to fulfill those yearnings? Is it a tale of society and the changes enacted over time? Is it a love story in which the seeming transgressions of sex ultimately serve to affirm the ties that bind one to another in love? At various points in this 804 page novel, Delany moves from theme to theme, as his characters fuck, piss, and shit their way through 70 years, from 2007 to the end of the 2070s. Perhaps "protean" is the best descriptor for the novel, although it too fails to encompass its totality.
Through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders is told through the perspective of Eric Jeffers, a white Georgian who is 17 when the novel opens in 2007. Openly gay and with quirks (fetishes?) of his own (booger/snot eating at the beginning, urophagia as the novel progresses), Eric moves down to the Georgia coast to stay with his mother when he comes into contact with a community of African American gays who, through the help and financial support of the homophile Robert Kyle and his Kyle Foundation, have set up a community in which the working men in that rural area can meet at places such as "The Dump" and partake freely in whatever sexual desires that they might have with each other. Eric is quickly drawn into this sexual milieu, in which he encounters a father and son couple, Dynamite and his biracial son, Morgan (nicknamed "Shit" for reasons that quickly become obvious to the reader), as well as others in the community.
Here, sexual desire is actualized, with a catalog of acts described in unsentimental, unrestrained fashion. At first, it seems the novel is little more than a laundry list of sexual acts, many of which are transgressive to social mores: incest, bestiality, coprophagia, etc. Yet Through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders is not pornography; there is no titillation here, at least not for most readers. We are confronted with acts that might make the seemingly more "open-minded" of us recoil with prurient shock. That, I suspect, is precisely the point. Delany is careful with these scenes, as these moments of shock and perhaps revulsion are intended to overlap with more poignant scenes, such as this one between Eric and Shit 25 years into the future:
Below is the second quoted passage, dealing with a key scene from the novel.
"Don't go, you piss drinkin' snot eatin' nasty fuck. Don't go. I'll fuck your ass. I'll piss in your fuckin' face, over at work in the Opera House or out in the street in the Dump or up here on the bluff. Don't go. You can have anything that comes out of my damned nigger dick, my nigger nose, my nigger mouth, my nigger ass – but don't go! I'll lick out every hole you got for half an hour every day – then push my dick in there and leave it in for a long, long time –"
"Shit, I know how large the world is. I don't got no reason to wanna leave..."
Shit blinked at him, with something close to wonder.
"I mean, why in the world would you think I would wanna leave –?"
"'Cause I'm a half-toothless, green-eyed nigger what can't read or write and ain't got the patience to sit through a whole town meetin', where people are talkin' about important shit, and I don't even understand it and nobody wants to be around me 'cause I ain't got no nails left and I'm forty-four years old and I still eat my own goddam snot and they think I'm some kind of fuckin' creep unless somebody told 'em how big my dick was and they wanna get fucked, and even then it ain't like I'm no super-buck like Al or that nigger you always talkin' 'bout knowin' when you was a kid back in Atlanta...while you look like some goddam gold-headed movie-star out of a fuckin' magazine –"
That's when Eric grabbed Shit and pulled him to the grass, tonguing eyes and nose and mouth. They gripped each other's backs and the backs of each other's heads. (pp. 542-543)
Those who dismissed Through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders for being merely graphic descriptions of men enacting various sexual fantasies (including BDSM) on each other may need to consider the novel's second half, which roughly covers the 2030s to Eric and Shit's doddering old age in the 2070s. Here there are passages wondering about the passage of desire and its wake being filled with memories and regrets, of lust transformed (transmogrified?) into something more familiar, more poignant for readers whose youthful flush has long faded. It is here, with the descriptions of near-future life, of the open couple's increasing bewilderment with a world in which technological advances have done little more than alienate them from the larger society outside their isolated rural (although increasingly populated) harbor, that the novel yields a new, different side for consideration. Delany does not go into detail as to what is transpiring in this future society; Eric and Shit's indifference to new terrorist attacks, projection screens, and economic precariousness is as "real" as our own fleeting concerns with "the big issues" of our current lives.
Delany's characters are non-orthodox in their development. Eric in particular, as the portal through which the readers can view this setting, is not defined by his particular talents; outside of the occasional description of his good looks, he might as well be a cypher to the reader, a passive participant in most of the scenes. Yet by novel's end, he and Shit are defined by their actions: who and how they have sex with, how they interact with each other, and how their desires and fears are reflected in each other. What easily could have been a Sadist catalog of socially-unacceptable sexual acts becomes by novel's end a means through which two souls connect and form a bond that transcends the earthy, physical acts. Delany does not telegraph any of this; instead it is embedded within acts that force readers to react to them.
Through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders was an exhausting read. Throughout, I had to struggle against taboos regarding most of the acts that Eric and Shit engage in. There were times that I had to put the book aside for weeks, or even months, before I could resume, because something disturbing that I read. Yet ultimately, I came to appreciate what Delany accomplishes here. Through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders is not meant to titillate readers, but to provoke them, to make them unsettled, before launching into a reflective tale of memory and loss, of waxing love and waning lust, of what it means to belong to something larger than your own self. It is not a perfect novel, as the repetitive scenes can be wearisome to read even though they also serve to create a semblance of rhythm to the couple's lives. Yet it is a work that will linger with the reader long after the final page is read and its themes regarding personal and social connections finally take precedence over the explicit sexual excess of the novel's first half. It is not a novel for many readers, but for those who do soldier through, Through the Valley of the Nest of Spiders may be one of those original fictions that one is glad to have read, even though words like "enjoyment" or "liked it" may not be employed.