Every Savage Can Reproduce by Enid Wilson
In this unknown future, people are classified into several classes. In Elizabeth Bennet’s class, she has to go before a committee to prove her worth if she wants to have children. And she can only apply to have children with one of the men she knows. The story will evolve around Elizabeth’s quest for having children of her own and the subsequent upheaval in this futuristic world due to her quest.
Why you should read this: It turns terrible fanfic into an artform. This is the most hilariously bad thing I have ever read in my fifteen years of reading fic in any fandom. I’m in love. Twisted, twisted, twisted love.
Also, it’s a choose-your-own-adventure (sort of) and Lady Catherine is a space tyrant. What’s not to like about that?
Why you may not like it: The plot is ridiculous, characterization is even worse, and the sex scenes are pointless and bad. Certain plot events may be triggering. If you have any sense of decency and taste left to offend, you should probably stay far away from this fanfic.
Luckily I lost all of mine years ago.
Other (Space Opera), AU, WIP, NC-17 at #Hot and Steamy#
I will not lie. As I have noted above, this is a terrible, terrible, terrible fanfic. But it’s hilariously bad and I would go so far as to say that it is so creatively bad that it’s approaching good from the opposite direction, having achieved what legendary manga artiste King Terry terms heta-uma or bad-good. To be bad-bad with no redeeming qualities is easy and such works abound, though not as many as those that are good-bad: technically proficient but with no soul. Good-good is more rare, of course, but rarest of all is the true bad-good, that which is so terrible that you love it for everything that makes it so terrible.
With Every Savage Can Reproduce, End Wilson has transcended the realm of bad-bad and achieved the highest pinacle of bad-good. She should be feted and brought burnt offerings of steamy romance novels.
“But Argus,” I can hear you say, “what is this story about?” And to you I say that what this story is about cannot be described, though Wickham is a eunuch, Lady Catherine is the Immortal Queen of Earth, random lightsabers and ewoks abound, and Darcy and Elizabeth have a psychic fetus who six weeks after conception possesses the mind of a three-year-old and calls himself Logan.
Really, I should give this story no quills at all, but it has given me such twisted pleasure that it deserves at least one.
So thank you, Enid Wilson, I will not soon forget your story.
Though I find you most unkind, sir, I cannot contest your opinion entirely. I must remark, though, that I find something admirable in the fearless way the writer faces the challenge of writing such things.
You have just hit on exactly how I feel about Ms Wilson’s writing. It is horrible, it is awful. The grammar makes my brain hurt, the dialogue makes my brain bleed, the plot makes my poor brain want to crawl in a hole so it doesn’t explode. The one time I detected the faint birth of an actual plotline, it imploded and ended before the tiny thing had a chance to grow and develop. The sex is laughably unrealistic, the settings even more so. I can’t help myself, I have paid good money for four of her books Four!
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