A few years ago, my first published book hit the shelves, and my friends and family members were wonderful in their enthusiastic support. Everyone was excited to read it -- even my mom, who normally reads only classic literature, important historical biographies, and weighty tomes on philosophy and theology.
I appreciated her vote of confidence, but it made me pretty nervous. That's because the book -- in addition to being a decidedly non-literary action-adventure/romance pageturner -- contains generous helpings of three things my mother is not a big fan of: swear words, violence, and sex scenes.
Are you cringing yet? I was, a little, when I handed over her copy of the book. But I told myself we were both adults, she had been warned, and I was just not going to be embarrassed.
Even so, I spent the next week wincing when I thought of what she was reading. Forget the cuss words and gunplay -- had she gotten to the part about "her skin flashing hot"? What about that line about "his big, rough, gorgeous hands" -- had she read that? Had she been forced by overwhelming shame to put the book down -- or better yet, lock it in a drawer underneath stacks of National Geographics, so no one would ever find it and associate it with her?
You must understand, sex is just not something my mother and I discuss. She's from a generation where it wasn't discussed, and her main advice to me on the subject when I was growing up leaned heavily on the "Don't do it until you're married" message. And here I was, not only having disregarded all her ideas about propriety, but now actually writing, for all to see, about characters doing the same?
The more I thought about it, the more I expected her response to be minimal, general, and neutral. She would tell me something like, "It was so colorful!" and we would move on and never speak of it again.
So imagine my surprise when my mother sent me a long, detailed e-mail enumerating her thoughts about the book, highlighting passages she particularly admired, and asking pertinent follow-up questions about character motivations and plot developments. She found a way to compare me to Kierkegaard. She even -- I kid you not -- talked about the love scenes in particular, saying, "All of their sexuality seems to have so much integrity and a total lack of anything vulgar ... We see in him what she has intuitively known about him from the beginning: That he is a person of character who has been drawn to her courage and honesty and attracted to the point that their first night together could only be described as a 'glory'!! You did all of that beautifully."
That might be the best compliment I've ever received about my writing, especially considering the source. My mother didn't bat an eye at all the things I'd been so worried about. Instead, she turned out to be one of my most thoughtful and engaged readers.
I think this episode between us changed our relationship forever, for the better. Not that we now sit around and talk about sex all the time -- far from it. But it made me relax whatever I'd been holding in around her. It taught me that she accepted -- and even appreciated -- who I truly was.
Ellen Henderson is a novelist and web strategist. She lives in Dallas, Texas, with her husband and son.
