Can We Not with Horny Lit Girl Winter?

Per The Cut, we have cruised into a "Horny Lit Girl" winter that has catapulted beloved literary works into sexy screen adaptations. Prime example: Wuthering Heights. I never knew I could look at an egg like that. But also, Frankenstein, Hamnet, The Housemaid and Hedda. Don't get me wrong—I loved Frankenstein, PureWow Editor-in-Chief Jillian Quint raved about Hamnet. But I really must ask, can we not with Horny Lit Girl winter?

First, let's make one thing clear. I have nothing against the sex scene. Sex, like any other plot device, can be a powerful way to advance a story. In and of itself it is not a distraction.

However, in my humble opinion, the film adaptation sex scene has gotten so gratuitous in recent years that it does take away from otherwise good literature, TV and film. Because instead of talking about the actual work at hand, we're all just wondering when the characters are going to jump into bed together. I'm thinking about some of the recent viral hits in the past couple years, including Red, White & Royal Blue, Heated Rivalry, No Hard Feelings, Anyone But You—hell, we all watched Fifty Shades of Grey—where a lot of topline coverage has led with the sex, and let the plot and other themes play secondary characters in conversation.

These recent adaptations are no exception: When I watched Frankenstein's creature and Frankenstein's pseudo-love interest have chemistry, and then watched the internet go nuts for how "hot" the monster was, my first thought was that Mary Shelley might condone it...but that's not how she wrote it. The focus was misplaced.

A prime example of an upcoming adaptation would be Wuthering Heights. Thus far, media coverage has led with words like "provacative," "latex" and "steamy." As an incensed Redditor (whose sentiments were widely echoed) aptly put it: "As a person whose favourite era of literature is Victorian because of how they portrayed intensity and passion and angst and sexual tension WITHOUT explicit sex, it annoys me to no end that they just want to shock people with as much explicit stuff as possible. (I have no issue with explicit sex at all, just saying that the Victorian era was very puritanical). Also they are clearly rage marketing because people will now go to watch and see how far she has gone. It might not even be about the source material at this point."

It's the last sentence that gets me. That in the tizzy of egg yolks and sweaty skin, sensual bread dough and anachronistic latex, we've lost the actual plot. Granted, the film's creators promise that provocation isn't front and center, but the general problem is that provocation is an attention hog, no matter which way you slice it. And if someone hasn't actually read Wuthering Heights, they'll lose the nuance of conversation that made Brontë's book the coarse and shocking work it was. Love, rage, abuse, grief and, importantly, the sticky questions of social class, race and England's colonial legacy.

I don't want or need an orgy. I want sex to underline the connection between the characters and the emotion they feel—be it anguish, passion, fear, rage, euphoria. I want it to have a purpose instead of being the purpose. If that makes me a prude, so be it.