WARNING: Examples of Explicit material in approved books provided here. This article is not intended for children
The Bluest Eye
By Toni Morrison
WARNING: This scene is a father raping his 9-year-old daughter
“The tenderness welled up in him, and he sank to his knees, his eyes on the foot of his daughter. Crawling on all fours toward her, he raised his hand and caught the foot in an upward stroke. Pecola lost her balance and was about to careen to the floor. Cholly raised his other hand to her hips to save her from falling. he put his head down and nibbled at the back of her leg. His mouth trembled at the firm sweetness of the flesh. He closed his eyes, letting his fingers dig into her waist. The rigidness of her shocked body, the silence of her stunned throat, was better than Pauline’s easy laughter had been. The confused mixture of memories of Pauline and the doing of a wild and forbidden thing excited him, and a bolt of desire ran down his genitals, giving it length, and softening the lips of his anus. Surrounding all of this lust was a border of politeness. He wanted to f*** her – tenderly. But the tenderness would not hold. The tightness of her vagina was more than he could bear. His soul seemed to slip down to his guts and fly out into her, and the gigantic thrust he made into her then provoked the only sound she made – a hollow suck of air in the back of her throat. Like the rapid loss of air from a circus balloon.
“Following the disintegration – the falling away – of sexual desire, he was conscious of her wet, soapy hands on his wrists, the finger clenching, but whether her grip was form a hopeless but stubborn struggle to free, or from some other emotion, he could not tell.
“Removing himself from her was so painful to him he cut it short and snatched his genitals out of the dry harbor of her vagina. She appeared to have fainted. Cholly stood up and could see only her grayish panties, so sad and limp around her ankles. Again the hatred mixed with tenderness. The hatred would not let him pick her up, the tenderness forced him to cover her.
“So when the child regained consciousness, she was lying on the kitchen floor under a heavy quilt, trying to connect the pain between her legs with the face of her mother looming over her” (pg. 162-163).
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings
By Maya Angelou
WARNING: Child rape depicted
“His legs were squeezing my waist. ‘Pull down your drawers.’ I hesitated for two reasons: he was holding me too tight to move, and I was sure that any minute my mother or Bailey or the Green Hornet would bust in the door and save me.
“’We was just playing before.’ He released me enough to snatch down my bloomers, and then he dragged me closer to him. Turning the radio up loud, too loud, he said, ‘if you scream, I’m gonna kill you. And if you tell, I’m gonna kill Bailey.” I could tell he meant what he said. I couldn’t understand why he wanted to kill my brother. Neither of us had done anything to him. And then.
“Then there was the pain. A breaking and entering when even the senses are torn apart. The act of a rape on an eight-year-old body is a matter of the needle giving because the camel can’t. the child gives, because the body can, and mind of the violator cannot.
“I thought I had died – I woke up in a white-walled world and it had to be heaven. But Mr. Freeman was there and he was washing me. His hands shook, but he held me upright in the tug and washed my legs. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you, Ritie. I didn’t mean it. But don’t you tell … Remember, don’t you tell a soul.’
I felt cool and very clean and just a little tired. ‘No, sir, Mr. Freeman, I won’t tell.’ I was somewhere above everything “It’s just that I’m so tired I’ll just go and lay down a while, please,’ I whispered to him. I thought if I spoke out loud, he might become frightened and hurt me again. He dried me and handed me my bloomers. ‘Put these on and go to the library. Your momma ought to be coming home soon. You just act natural.’”
Snow Falling on Cedars
By David Guterson
WARNING: Graphic Violence
“One night a lieutenant named Jim Kent recollected how the former radioman had taken an interest in a dead Japanese boy with his pants turned inside out around his muddy ankles. The radioman, a Private Gerald Willis, had propped the boy’s penis up by placing a stone under it, then had lain down carefully in the dirt and shot carbine founds until he’d blown the head of it off. He’d been proud of it afterward and had bragged about his aim for a half hour or more, describing for others how the boy’s penis had looked lying on the ground” (pg. 234).
The Kite Runner
By Khaled Hosseini
WARNING: Boy on boy child rape
“’It’s just a Hazara,’ Assef said. But Kamal kept looking away.
“’Fine,’ Assef snapped. ‘All I want you weaklings to do is hold him down. Can you manage that?’
“Wali and Kamal nodded. They look relieved.
“Assef knelt behind Hassan, put his hands on Hassan’s hips and lifted his bare buttocks. He kept one hand on Hassan’s back and undid his own belt buckle with his free hand. He unzipped his jeans. Dropped his underwear. He positioned himself behind Hassan. Hassan didn’t struggle. Didn’t even whimper. He moved his head slightly and I caught a glimpse of his face. Saw the resignation in it. It was a look I had seen before. It was the look of the lamb.”