Having seen Bill, and decided to help him, Sookie finds a level of peace and is able to sleep through the following nights. She finally relaxes enough to fully enjoy making love with Eric again.
-The Sookie Stackhouse Companion, by Somebody That’s Not Charlaine Harris
Oh, yes, I’m sure seeing her rapist again was just what it took to get Sookie’s ladybits a-tingling enough to enjoy sex with her new lover. I’m sure it made her just so very wet to be stuck in the same room with the dude that repeatedly raped and tried to kill her, while he makes ham-fisted passes at her, the girl he raped.
Then again, maybe they’re right, maybe I’m being too harsh. Maybe seeing her rapist withered and on the verge of death, and knowing its a real possibility that he might finally finally FINALLY die for good, and be out of her life forever, that she’ll no longer be forced to do this macabre Danse Macabre with her friendly neighborhood rapist, well, maybe that did get her fur up a little, and she wanted to celebrate. Who could blame her? Claude and Pam should have baked her little fairy cakes with ‘Mazel Tov On This Most Joyous of Occasions’ piped out in icing and presented them to her in medias coitus, while throwing confetti and humming Ode to Joy on vuvuzelas carved from Bill Compton’s thigh-bones.
There aren’t words for how much I hate that travesty of a “Companion,” co-AHEM!-authored by a Bill lover.
It’s one thing when someone’s on the Internets is spouting “Ode to the Rapist.” It’s another when they are allowed — no, invited! — to make it a de-facto canon.
And a passage like the one quoted above is a bile cherry on the shit cake.
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