I know this subject has been touched more times than a glamour model’s tits. And I know it’s as sensitive as the haemorrhoids of someone who uses sandpaper toilet paper. But I’ve been a member of ERWA for many years now, and I’ve watched the topic rise and fall through countless arguments in Writers and Parlor, and I don’t think I’ve ever said much to either hinder or help clarify my stance on the subject.

The question is: what’s the difference between erotica and porn? My first response when I heard this was: about 1p per word. But flippant remarks like that don’t move any of us to a satisfactory conclusion. And, as I’ve recently discovered, dictionary definitions are equally unhelpful.

My copy of the OED [Oxford English Dictionary] defines erotica as “erotic literature or art” and denotes that erotic means “relating to or tending to arouse sexual desire or excitement.” The OED goes onto explain the word’s etymology comes on a circuitous route (through French) from the original Greek er ōtikos “sexual love.”

The same dictionary shows that porn, derived from a 1950’s contraction of pornography, is defined as “printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity, intended to stimulate sexual excitement.” Interestingly, it says the word is derived from the Greek pornographos “writing about prostitutes.”

On the surface this shows that the words are virtually synonymous. Both describe materials expected to arouse sexual desire or excitement. If we’re being picky we could point out that, for a work to be deemed pornographic, it should include “explicit description […] of sexual organs or activity.” But, aside from being the mainstay of much that is deemed pornographic, explicit descriptions of sexual organs and activity are also apparent in classic erotic literature from the Marquis De Sade, through Pauline Réage and beyond Henry Miller. All of which means this minor distinction is of little value.

The etymology for erotica suggests there is an element of love involved that is absent from pornography, but I personally think this point might also be unhelpful and misleading.

In Pauline Réage’s The Story of O, the heroine loves her master. This affection should make the story fulfil the criteria of being unequivocally erotic. But because the story is only written from the heroine’s perspective, we don’t know the motivations of Sir Stephen, the martinet at Roissy who sexually dominates the heroine. If Sir Stephen loves O, then the story can be deemed erotic under the aforementioned definitions. If, on the other hand, Sir Stephen is simply a cruel bastard who gets his jollies from subjugating women without any emotional involvement or affection, then The Story of O becomes unmitigated porn. In this case it would seem the distinction hinges on the motives of one character in the story. And, as Sir Stephen’s motives can never be known, we can never definitely say whether The Story of O is erotic or pornographic.

It should also be noted that the ideology in the OED’s definitions invest “sexual love” with a status of being highly esteemed while “sex for cash” languishes with far less respect at the other end of the cline. This is apparent in the phrasing of the different definitions, with erotica pertaining to “literature or art” and pornography referring to material that is simply “printed or visual.” The implied ideology here suggests that erotica is in some way superior to pornography with literature and art being considered of higher value than printed or visual material.

But these definitions also mean that all erotic literature—if it has been printed—can be classified as pornography. All erotic art, paintings, photography, sculptures—being visual mediums—are categorically pornographic.

Therefore: all erotica can be described as being pornographic.

Conversely, if an example of any pornography can be deemed to have any artistic merit, it can also be effectively described as erotica. As the term artistic merit has been used to describe the attributes of various Turner Prize Winners (which include light bulbs, elephant dung, formaldehyde and dead cows) it doesn’t take a strong argument to suggest that the term artistic merit is highly subjective and open to a very broad interpretation.

Consequently, it’s arguable that the words erotica and pornography can be used interchangeably. Trying to define a difference between them is comparable with the difference between going to see a movie and going to see a film.

Yet still the argument rages on. And on. And on.

The key issue here is not to define the difference between erotica and porn: but to ask why we should need to define a difference. If we’re reading or writing material that is sexually arousing, does it matter what it’s called?

A long time back on ERWA I remember that M Christian planted his tongue firmly in his cheek to eruditely demonstrate the subjectivity of this debate. “I read erotica,” he explained, “you read smut, and they read porn.”

And, in essence, I think that sums up the main issue of the whole debate. The denotations of the two words are strikingly similar. The connotations are societally imposed. Erotica is associated with literature and the high arts and has implications of elitism. Pornography is scathingly regarded as slap-off material for the lower echelons. The difference between the two is not in the subject, content or material. The difference isn’t even in the audience’s interpretation. The difference between these two categories is usually decided by outside parties who simply wish to pass judgement.

So, what do I think is the difference between erotica and porn? In writing this article I’ve changed my mind from my original glib and flippant response. I no longer think the difference is 1p a word. Now I’d say the difference isn’t even that much.

Ashley Lister
September 2007

“The Write Stuff” © 2007 Ashley Lister. All rights reserved.