Benjamin Percy begs the question, do I have to like a writer’s writing to want to fuck him? Alas, I think the answer would be yes, but I would make an exception for Percy if I were to not like his writing. He’s that hot. Now, as it is, I really REALLY like his writing! So, the question is really moot. But, my point is, how smoking HOT is he? (I’ll get to his fiction in a minute). Here’s a bit from an interview in Bookslut that exemplifies one of the reasons I’d like to fuck him:
Some writers go for walks when they’re trying to work something out in their head. I go to the gym. Sometimes you need to get away from the keyboard and feel the blood flowing through your stiff limbs before the next idea comes hurtling toward you. So I pick up large pieces of metal and put them back down again.
The man has PIPES! As does his prose. Percy is an unabashedly masculine writer. A rich manliness oozes from not only his subject matter- war, guns, all sorts of men stuff–but also his prose style. I wouldn’t call him a “plain” writer; indeed, he can be very stylized, with an acute attention to the music of language. But his fiction feels honest and hard, like a dick in my hand should feel.