REVIEW: "Polarity in Motion", by Brenda Vicars

Genre:  Young Adult, Coming of Age, Whodunnit
Publisher:  Red Adept, 2014
Length: 266 pages


This book was recommended to me as being an especially good representation of the genre. I almost never read young adult novels - they just rarely interest me, and so few are well-done. So it was with a little reluctance that I began Polarity in Motion.

About ten pages in, I was hooked. The opening was expertly-written, immediately grabbing the reader as it should. As I read, it occurred to me that I would like to use it as an example to beginner novelists I am working with as a mentor and/or editor, as I try to instill in them the terrible importance of a great opening to a novel. At that point, I double-checked to see how many books the author had under her belt; I was surprised to find out that this was her first novel.

The next thought I had was that she had an excellent editor. Not only was the text clean (I think I found two typos and one grammar error - this is present in any novel, no matter how thoroughly edited), but the book was structurally extremely sound. This wasn't an easy task for a beginning novelist: the book is at its core a mystery, and with that type of book plot structure must be near-perfect: in order to keep the reader wondering and the story flying along, a writer has to do some painstakingly careful plotting. Foreshadowing must be continuous but not overwhelming; tension must be maintained to a high degree; most importantly, all the strings of plot must come together neatly at the end. The reader must be surprised by the ending, and yet satisfied and not surprised at all by what they learn. This book, for the most part, accomplished that.

Polarity in Motion is about a young girl caught up in a sexting scandal at a high school - one in which she is victimized. We follow her as she is removed from her school and home, and - during the impending formal investigation - becomes a temporary ward of the state. I really liked this section of the book, because I think it deftly illustrated the confusion, helplessness and anger of a child in such a situation. The main plot revolves around the discovery of who set her up, where the photo originated, and how it came to be a tool of bullying as it was disseminated among the peers in Polarity's social and academic world.

This book is entertaining and suspenseful and would entertain anyone from 12 to 80. It contains a lot of teen angst, crazy teachers, annoying parents, bullies, cute boys and a little romance. It really is a bang-up debut young adult novel, and is far above most others out there in terms of both quality of writing and of story.

As an editor, I did have one reservation about it, and it is one particularly interesting for me to bring up because it concerns all beginning novelists. This book makes one mistake that is very common in first books: it wants to be too many things. It hovers between being a mystery novel and meandering into various social issues that really have little to do directly with the plot. Although these passages do build layers of character and add atmosphere, they are a bit clumsy and neither advance the plot nor affect the outcome of the story.

I want to take a moment to speak about this in general terms, for the benefit of writers. Oftentimes, first-time novelists try to work a social issue that is near and dear to them personally into their story. This is perfectly fine, as long as the issue is shown within the plot of the story and has some effect on the plot's outcome. Too often, a new novelist wanders occasionally from the narrative of the plot to get on a soapbox of some sort. In terms of the technique of writing there are a few problems with this:

1 - It slows down the tension of the plot. In some cases pontificating about some moral concern goes on for paragraphs, in the middle of what should have been a continuous build of dramatic tension. The new writer will justify this as "well,  but the main character is talking about it, so..."  I appreciate that it is worked into the character's thoughts or dialogue, but that isn't enough. It still has to advance the plot, and be directly related to the story.  Otherwise the impatient reader is skipping those passages in frustration.

2 - A reader is satisfied by a well-defined theme. A great reading experience requires that the book know what it's about. As I said above, this problem is so common with beginning novelists - especially the intelligent, involved, engaged people who have real passion about a cause - and I often find myself saying to someone I'm editing, "Do you want to write a good novel, or do you want to do some real research and write a good non-fiction book about this issue? Because you need to pick one." When the narrative is interrupted by paragraphs of moralizing - even when it is part of the characters' thoughts - and that moral message doesn't directly affect the plot or move it along, it causes the reader to get an overall sense of disorganization in terms of theme. It's very hard to explain to someone inexperienced with writing that a novel is not the place to lecture the reader about social issues. Which brings me to my next point...

3 - Readers don't like unsolicited lectures. The reader of a novel is in it for two reasons. The first is enjoyment. An uninvited, unexpected lecture on a moral issue can be annoying and takes away from the enjoyable experience of being told a story.  But secondly, some people like to learn something as well from a novel. It may be argued, in fact, that the greatest novels in literature explore the social issues of the day. I would absolutely agree with that. But I guarantee you that every one of those great novels presents that social issue in a way that it is 1) incidental to the fabric of the story (that is, it never interrupts the flow or reads like a lecture to the reader) 2)  completely and intricately woven into the plot itself: that is, the social issue is the primary cause of tension, affects the plot, and affects the outcome.  It takes some very experienced writing to deftly work a moral lesson into the weave of a good story, and the best writers learn to do it well... which brings me to the last point...

4 - Readers don't need to be beaten over the head. Especially not with the author's life philosophies. Not outright, anyway. Ask my editing clients how many times I said to them, as we worked on a first novel, "Less is more. Less is more."  What I mean is, if you are going to work in philosophizing - and you certainly have the right to as a the author - work it in subtly. Most beginners don't understand how smart the reader is going to be, and how much a reader likes to work things out for themselves. Do you remember when you were a child how your mom used to tell you the same thing over and over to make her point, and how annoying that was?

Beginning authors explain way too much about the meaning and morality of the tale. They need to show it, not tell it. Too much telling - in this case talking about this social or moral issue or that (regardless of who is doing the talking) - feels to the reader like being hammered over the head with a moral. Especially when there are several (let's define that as three or more) places in the novel where that happens. I would argue it doesn't ever need to happen in a well-written novel, because the moral message should be conveyed subtly by the very action of the tale alone, and never have to be stated outright.

In the case of Polarity in Motion, the moralizing is separate from the plot. There is a lot of talk about race, and a lot of talk about inequality of privilege as regards race. But within the story this point is not illustrated: all the kids at the school seem to have the same opportunities for success, and successful individuals are presented in all races. Consequences for characters have everything to do with action, and nothing to do with race. Everything that happens in the story could have happened regardless of what color everyone's skin is. There is some suggestion that only kids of color end up in juvenile detention, which anyone who has worked with teen offenders knows is hooey  (I can say from personal first-hand work experience that many are white). There is suggestion that the kids of color are less often guilty of the charges that put them there - but it is never shown positively that this is true. And again, it's a side-plot.

One disturbing element was Polarity's many descriptions of her love interest's skin color - so many that the reader wonders if the girl is a bit obsessed with him precisely because he is black. Which would be in itself, of course, a type of racism, wouldn't it? And that would be a subject for a whole different story and possibly a legitimately interesting plot it itself. But it doesn't belong here - because in the end his skin color has nothing to do with anything.  I think this feeling comes, again, because the reader is being beaten over the head by the fact his skin is brown - the implication being isn't it cool that this white girl can fall for this great black guy. But I think most modern 13-year-olds already know that.

At the end of the book, to her credit, the author valiantly tries to tie together bullying, racism, economic under-privilege (of white "trailer trash" and blacks), and then other various notions about inequality, all together... but it ends as a jumbled bit of yet more philosophizing (not to mention some bad poetry - such as that our 15-year-old character would in fact write) and it ultimately feels out of place - because there is too much effort to make it fit neatly in to a package. The mystery story works well, and would have felt more organized, if this moralizing had all been left out or had been worked into the actual plot with subtlety.

I don't mean to seem to pick on this book - I want to state again that it is overall well-done and an exceptionally competent first effort at a novel. I simply want to clearly illustrate for potential writers who read my blog how easy it is to get caught up in trying to convey one's personal passion and political philosophy; and without the skill to do it right, you can end up lowering the quality of the novel for the reader.

I did some research on the author of Polarity in Motion after reading it, and find that she has an extensive background in secondary education. This was apparent in the book, in which the reader is taken into the inner workings of high school administration.  Ms. Vicars has openly stated her passion for questions of inequality among teens, and I'm sure that it was tempting to try to work some teaching into her novel.  I really hope to see another novel, and perhaps some of these sub-themes worked in again, but less blatantly and more closely with the plot line.

Polarity in Motion is widely available and can be found at Amazon, where I posted a portion of this review.

Toward Better Writing: When Crazy Just Doesn't Cut It

Clowns and puppets. Back about ten to fifteen years ago, I noticed a trend in novels that I found infinitely annoying, and I have finally put my finger on why. I hope my observations might be useful.

It got to be predictable, particularly in the literary novel genre, particularly the best-sellers. Nowadays, you find it across genres. Characters had to be outrageous: they had to have almost unbelievable backgrounds; they had difficult to understand dilemmas, usually due to extremely far-fetched situations; they had names that ranged from sounding as if the authors' four-year-olds made up while munching on cereal at breakfast, and sounding as if the author had had one too many cocktails while sitting before the computer. Each of these characters was peppered over with a plethora of quirky habits. These aren't characters; they are so overly made up, so painted with pretty colors, you can't see their faces or souls. They are clowns.

Now you may ask, "What's wrong with that? Crazy characters are fun, Lichen! Some of the best and most memorable characters are like that! You snob!"

This is my problem with it: when you overdo it, you murder the very reasons you might successfully employ it as a creative device. You defeat the purpose - what might have been successful and interesting and drawn the reader in, in a more powerful way. You dilute that which you might have had.

This is why:

First, it is essential to a well-drawn character that your reader is able to relate in some way to her needs or frustrations or experiences or motives. I believe that is always necessary to a successful story. Now, your character might be non-human; he or she might be an anti-hero, possessing what many of us would see as negative traits; he or she might exist in an alternate universe or a time in the far past or distant future that you can't completely imagine. But that character must have traits at his or her core that the reader can relate to on a personal level. The reader must feel, in some important way, at one with the protagonist.  If this doesn't happen, the writer risks losing the reader - either in the bookstore reading the back cover and rolling his eyes before he puts the book back down, or sighing and tossing it aside in the third chapter as he sits on a sofa. A character is too far-fetched when he is made up of so much bizarreness (yes, I made that up, but it works here!) that the reader never bonds with him.

On the other hand, a character must possess some idiosyncrasy in order to be a character, and not a mannequin devoid of personality. Every elementary creative writing class teaches you to find something different to add to a character, in order to make him come alive. Maybe he can favor blue shirts only; maybe her shoes are always untied or her red curly hair always unruly; maybe he speaks with a brogue or a southern American, or British accent. Maybe she has lots of dogs or cats. Or walks ten miles to work every day. No one is interesting if they are like everyone else in the world, right? So a writer must find what can be unique about the character and emphasize that, in order to draw in the reader's interest.  But . . . too much weirdness, too many quirks, causes a character to feel overdone, overcooked, contrived, and well. . . phony. This is when the reader starts to disbelieve in the character. And thus lose interest in the character's plight. Bad news for your book!


In the art of writing for the screen or stage, when we learn the basics of plotting (and of course all of this applies to a novel or short story) we speak about the element of Suspension of Disbelief.  Have you ever been sitting in a theatre to see a play, and as the curtain rises you see that the set is very minimalist - maybe just a few chairs where you know there should be an entire room. Or a character's walk through what is supposed to be a forest, is a few risers or a ramp and some shadow scattered about the stage. But later in the production, you might realize that you have lost track of your initial worry about the set, because you have been engrossed in the story.  This is due to successful performance of a successfully-constructed script. The director, actors and writer(s) have achieved Suspension of Disbelief for the audience. In other words, the elements that might have caused the audience to disbelieve the story as it goes have been overshadowed by the larger story itself. The reasons for the audience to believe the plot being set before them - the obstacles before the characters and the motives they have as they fight for that which they desire most - are so powerful, that anything prohibiting that tendency to question, has been obliterated for a time.

Or have you ever sat and watched a film, and thought to yourself, "This is so stupid. This person would never do that. People don't act like that." You are bothered because the Suspension of Disbelief has not been successfully achieved; those elements that cause doubt in your mind have not been overcome by the plot or performances, and thus the film has failed to properly engage your imagination.

When you throw in too much of the bizarre into a character, your reader's ability to employ Suspension of Disbelief is impeded. If the reader already doesn't find your character believable (and to be relatable she must be a little believable after all!), why would he believe your plot?

To put all this simply: don't write characters that are so overboard weird that they sink into seeming silly. That is easier said than done, if you are a writer that loves quirkiness. So in the interest of the writers out there who may be in love with the Weird, let's set down some common sense guidelines:

• If you are going to name people silly names from the depths of your imagination, do that to only one character. One character with a silly/quirky nickname or a name that only they could have inherited from Great Grandpappy Pinecone, is enough.  Let people around that character have more mainstream, geographically/ethnically/era appropriate names. That way, your odd character really stands out and your story doesn't seem populated by people your reader can't relate to or believe (and if everyone in town is named ridiculously, can the reader believe the town is well. . . sane?).  An exception would be a group of siblings who were all given odd names to make a point, and in order to allow you to say something about family dynamics. 
  
• And let's say you do that. You have three sisters all with silly names their perpetually-drunken sire insisted upon. Then do it, but have one of them comment on the names within the narrative, because if the characters themselves acknowledge the ridiculousness, the reader will respect them and accept the reasoning, and thus believe in them and in the story. 
• Don't give your character fifteen quirks. Give him three, tops. Those three will stand out enough, will keep your character within the bounds of logic, and allow him to still be believable if a little . . . unique. 
• If you are giving your character an odd name, inexplicable quirks, and a crazy family, for Heaven's sake, make his background and dilemma believable.  Not that there is ever an excuse for a badly-constructed plot, but especially when you are demanding a lot of Suspension of Disbelief of your reader in the way of your character's very construction, do allow him a relatable situation to deal with.
• Keep this in mind:  Most of us in our day-to-day lives are a little (or a lot) turned off by phoniness. We can smell it a mile away by our thirties or so. And it bores us. Phonies wear a smell of trying too hard, of displaying their oddness like a badge, along with a silent, "I'm too cool for you all. . . see how weird I am?"  You know what I mean. Don't let your characters be that. Keep them real. Write a real character who happens to have an odd name and be dealing with a weird life circumstance. Don't use a character to parade around your favorite weird name, personal quirks, and idea for the weirdest plot ever. That is phony, and it isn't going to lead to good writing. Believe me on that. Don't make a character your puppet. Rather, write a well-rounded, believable, relatable character from the beginning and then let the character carry the story. You record the actions of the character as he guides you, you don't manipulate the strings.
• Cardinal rule: When the author is trying too hard to be cute, the readers feel it. Leave that in fifth grade, and just write a character the reader can respect (not necessarily like, but respect) and relate to in some major way. 

Respect your characters enough - whether they be animal or human, alien or not - to make them real so that the reader is drawn to them.  Bring each to life with a few points of uniqueness - a few odd habits, a few favorite turns of phrase, an interesting family member or two, one slightly odd experience in their past. Stop there. That's enough. 

Know when enough is enough, and never forget that less is more. And over-the-top is . . . well . . . just annoyingly hard for your reader to swallow. 

For more on writing good characters, see previous article: Characters: The Inspiration of Attraction.

Toward Better Writing Series, Part 2: Writing Passion and Sex

I'm currently having an interesting experience. I'm reading the second novel in a series by a writer of historical fiction. In this second book, she delves into an area that she stayed completely away from in the first: she has included two fairly explicit sex scenes. It's pretty entertaining to read the reader reviews on Amazon. A few are incensed by these scenes on moral grounds - one even claiming he skipped them, as is I suppose his prerogative. Others don't object to the sex per se, but to the explicit nature of the writing. Many readers are so caught up in talking about the sex scenes that they are missing the overall book - which has far bigger problematic issues than a few sex scenes!

In my work as a freelance editor, I often end up prompting inexperienced writers to rewrite love scenes - sexual or not. Experienced writers often complain to me that they are also uncomfortable writing them. Through the years, I have made a lot of observations and done a lot of thinking about these scenes, and I thought I would take the opportunity to share it here.

There have been entire books written about writing love scenes. Although some of those books are more useful than others, the best unfortunately focus on writing erotica, as a genre. But what about the writer who isn't writing in that genre, but wants to add a love scene or two, or a sex scene? There is precious little help out there. The common thread seems to be that many writers, whether experienced or no, fret about these scenes. The consequence is that they are often badly-written.  But I think these scenes, if done with the right attitude, can be approached with a sense of fun, and turn out to be a really good time for the writer. They can also turn out to be some of the best scenes in a book, for no matter how much or how little sex they contain, they can be enormously revealing when it comes to characterization, and can be made to be very emotional for the reader, very funny, or even hauntingly moving and unforgettable. The sensual can be a very good thing.

I have noticed some patterns that seem to recur amongst writers. It might be useful to talk about each.

• The writer who when confronted with writing something romantic falls back on cheesy Harlequinesque language, ending up with the kind of scene that doesn't feel sexy at all. This is far too common.

• The writer who wants to tell the story of an intense love story between healthy adults, but leaves out any element of sensuality (I didn't say sex, I said sensuality - which encompasses much more territory!). Even writers in the Christian genre need to learn to write romance well - and with the sensuality befitting adult characters. After all, every healthy adult engages in sensuality in some form. It's part of life! Unless you are writing for Disney, it's part of the lives of your characters.

• The writer who throws themselves heart and soul into writing that sex scene, and goes overboard. You end up feeling that you left the narrative of the novel entirely and took a side trip into anonymous porn for a few pages. Again, it feels smutty, forced, but not hot. It doesn't advance the story - the story has to pause while the reader gets through the boring but prurient sex scene. And again, too common.

• The writer who writes the beautiful sensual scene, laced with original imagery and metaphor, and then complains that he/she just can't write a good sex scene. But.. what IS a good love scene, then?

The first of these is something I have seen a lot of as an editor. I have always been a bit baffled by it. Let me give you an example. Imagine that you are happily reading along, the story is good, the prose is slick and sophisticated, and then comes the moment when the hero and heroine confess their attraction to one another . . . and you read this:

He pulled her close as they danced and she put her arms around his neck. She knew she was being forward but she couldn't help herself. She lowered her eyes, batting them shyly, and bit her lower lip. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek as his lips brushed her ear. She didn't understand why her heart was beating so hard, as if it would beat out of her chest. She tried to say something but her voice stuck in her throat. 

His arms were around her waist and he pulled her closer so that he could feel her body up against his. His head was spinning as he smelled her perfumed hair. It was intoxicating. He didn't know why he was behaving this way, since he was usually totally in control. "I want you," he whispered. 

I can't go on. You get the idea. Are you turned on by this?  I'm not. I feel like I'm intruding on a moment in an adolescent infatuation. What's wrong with it, technically?  Why does it fail to move us, fail to sound.. well, adult?  Why does passion escape us?  This is the type of writing that makes so many of us despise the formula "romance" genre: it's full of stereotypes that seem to cheapen human experience. So why do people write like this?

When I see a scene like this, I am 99% sure of one thing about the writer: this is a person a little bit afraid of writing passion. (They may or may not be unable to express it in their personal lives to a lover, but that is beside the point here.) This is a person who shies away - on some subconscious level - from fully imagining a scene of passion between two adults and then expressing that scene through writing. A fellow editor voiced it very well once, "The writer is falling back on sugary clichés because they are afraid to write real passion." The clichés become a sort of cop-out, a crutch. He also made another point that I think is very often valid: "This writer has read too many bad romances."  Sometimes what we have seen (read) a lot of, is what first comes to mind when we are stuck for words.

There are a few big technical issues with this type of writing. And remember - its biggest failing is that the writer wants to convey romance, heat, high emotion, but the lack of quality in the writing from a technical sense negates those goals. So the writer, then, has failed to meet his or her goal in writing the scene, and has therefore failed the reader too.  Note also that the scene written in this way makes the characters sound immature. Because adult characters are suddenly relating to one another as teens would, the reader is as alienated from the characters' real emotions as the characters themselves appear to be.

First, consider the clichés (these being defined as words or phrases that have been used the same way a million times in other books):

pulled her close
couldn't help herself/himself
batted her eyes
shyly
bit her lip
hot breath
lips brushed
didn't know why / didn't understand why
heart beating so hard that....
voice stuck in throat (or any other take on "speechless")
head spinning
intoxicating perfume
God help us, how many times do we have to read "I want you" in a love scene?
And if you can't make them have sex, have them dancing.

I may have missed a few. As you might guess, without these clichés to fall back on as a crutch, the writer would not have a scene!  If you want to avoid this situation in your own writing, do the following:

• Make a list of common clichés in romantic scenes - be they words, phrases or situations. As you read other books, make note of any you catch. Call this the "Never Write" list! Then never use them! (Well, only use one or two. Except batting eyelashes. For the love of God don't say that. Ever.)
• Akin to the first rule, strive for originality. A good scene is a scene that conveys a common situation in a way that makes the reader look at it in a new way. Notice new things about this love between your characters. How are they different from other people and other loves? What is unique about the way they think? The way they speak? The way they move? What do they fear, what motivates them? Each of these and more can be worked into your love scene to make it new and fresh - something the reader has not experienced before. What makes a love scene shine is the new and unique - a new touch, a new word, a new emotion. Find these and weave them into the scene. 
• If you find yourself still struggling, dig deep and ask yourself what you are afraid of. Writing a love scene makes a writer very vulnerable. In effect, the writer is revealing to a world of strangers (and worse, one's family!) what he/she thinks about sex and intimacy and romance. But you are a writer now: claim your right to express yourself, decide that you are an adult and have a duty to readers and a duty to the integrity of your own creative voice, and just write it. Worry about your mother later; or explain to her that the stories come from imagination, and you would never actually do that stuff yourself.

The second situation I listed on writing romantic scenes, is closely related to the first. Some people have a moral conviction that they don't want to get too sexy with their love scenes. That is their right, as a writer and as a thinking human being. However, the problems develop when these writers shy away from normal human interaction, and fall back on the cheesy clichés. Again, ask what you are afraid of, if you are this type of writer.  Are you concerned about the reaction of your spouse, friends, or your church community? Then use a pseudonym and choose whom you reveal your writing accomplishment to. Or better, just explain to people rude enough to comment on love scenes that you don't necessarily have the same beliefs your characters do and you don't always make choices your characters would make. They are just that - characters, not you. It's fiction! Sometimes you have to explain that difference to people - unfortunately all writers do. The rule, however, stands: don't fall back on silly-sounding clichés because you are afraid of adult emotion. To do so cheats your characters, your readers, and yourself.

Writers in this second category also run into another issue: that of making the decision to include no sex/romance/sensuality whatsoever.  Again, I want to emphasize that no matter how silly it may seem to some, this is a valid moral decision that the writer can make. However, the problem becomes that your book will appeal to a narrower market - some readers, specifically those sharing your moral sensibilities, will appreciate it. But as many a Christian writer discovers, they are a small part of the market. Many will assume that your reluctance to address sensuality between adults stems from immaturity or unfounded fear. Whether they are right or wrong is beside the point; the reality is that the notion will exist, and you will have to accept it. It will affect the quality of your book, your income, and worst - the honesty of your story. It may also influence the opinions of prospective publishers.

So are you forced to write scenes of intimacy in order to sell? I don't think so. In fact, I notice many well-written books that clip right along, are a great read, and contain no sex. However, they do feature characters that can handle adult emotions. A book that avoids intimate emotion feels fake. It's hard to write an honest book without honest emotion. But writing without sensuality or sex - if it's honest - can be done. I recommend a book here that is one of the best out there - a decades-old classic. The writer tells the story of romance between a devout man and a prostitute, and does it very well - well enough to land the book in the Christian fiction genre. Check out Francine Rivers' Redeeming Love. It is so well done, in fact, that I - a person who does not enjoy Christian fiction specifically because I find the flatness and dishonesty offensive and boring - love this novel. Make sure you don't make your characters all behave like twelve-year-olds because you must avoid intimacy. Even celibate adults relate to romantic interests as adults. They even, gasp!, feel physical attraction.

At the other end of the spectrum is our third situation: that of a writer who overdoes the sex scene. How does this happen?  Let me first say that I have no problem with explicit sex in writing - those who have read Gentlemen's Game, or my novella Quandary, know this. Sometimes it is necessary to the quality of a book to get very detailed and explicit when describing the sexual experiences of the characters, because it has to do with the characters' journey and development. In Gentlemen's Game, this was the case. We needed to see into the heads of the characters and peer into their bedrooms, in order to grasp the story and fully understand their conflicts, fears, and motivations.

I mentioned that I am reading the second novel in an historical fiction series, and that the explicit sex in it seems to be a problem for some readers. When I initially read the reader comments, I laughed. Many of them seemed to be people who didn't like any sex in any book nohow noway for any reason. I was a little surprised, since novels dealing with medieval or Renaissance-era subjects often get steamy. I think I muttered under my breath once, after reading a particularly upset reader comment, "You need to get out more!" Or have some sex. Last night I read the second of these "alarming" scenes, and I have to admit - many of them have a point. Not because the sex is too explicit - with that they are mistaken. But because the scenes are not well done. Specifically, they:

• are smutty. Instead of falling back on the kind of cheesy clichés found in childish romance novels, the writer fell back on emotionless, cold clichés found in bad porn. If her intent was to convey sexiness and high emotion (and it was), she failed. In fact, she failed so much that later in the book, when the heroine recalls the sexual experience and talks about her emotions surrounding it, I said to myself, "Huh?" because nothing about that scene suggested any such emotion. The emotion was lost, swallowed up by overly-pornographic language. I would suggest that the writer was in a bit over her head, and if she had been skilled enough to combine explicit detail with original imagery and presentation of the heroine's state of mind, the average reader would have been more accepting of the scene as a whole. 
• deviate from the tone of the rest of the novel. The book is written in a sort of old-timey tone, to evoke an historical era. The reader is jolted away from this, and thrown into a very pornographic tone, and then back out again. The scene does not flow linguistically with the rest of the book. Again, I think the writer subconsciously fell back upon what she herself has read in bad erotica/porn, rather than to search for a unique presentation that would have made the scene original, steamy, and meaningful. 
• To add to this deviation from tone, the scenes deviate from the established structure of the previous novel of the series, in which sex scenes were treated very lightly or more often avoided altogether. This made these two scenes feel as if the writer made a conscious decision, "I will write a really explicit sex scene, by God!" and forced it.  Because they feel forced, the reader is further taken aback, and taken off-guard. The first of the two explicit scenes in this second book is a scene between husband and wife, in a marriage of several years - a happy marriage. There is nothing in the story to indicate that this particular sexual encounter is different than others have been: thus, there was no real justification to suddenly writing this one as explicit. It probably didn't need to be done, speaking as an editor. The second is more important: it is a menage-a-trois; as distasteful as that may be to some readers, I feel it is justified in terms of the story. We need to be inside the heads of the protagonists. However, the behaviors of all three, during the course of the scene, are out-of-character, with no clear justification. Combined with the coldness of the porny language, the reader is left confused by the whole scene. I think - again, speaking as an editor - the scene needs to be there and making it explicit is a good idea. But it is explicit in the wrong way. More honest emotion, more originality, would have gone a long way toward creating a scene more in keeping with the writer's intentions (as they become clear later in the book).  

In order for an explicit scene to work, then:

 -  Explicit language is fine - describing specific anatomy, actions, etc.. But keep away from porn-born clichés - try to use description in a new, original way.
 -  Stay away from using dialogue that you hear too much in porn. Try to think about how real people speak - and how your characters would be speaking - if the situation were happening before your eyes.  If you can weave original dialogue, imagery, and thought, into the scene, along with the explicit nature of the writing, it will all come alive. Think about how real sex is - it's messy, occasionally humorous, sometimes embarrassing or clumsy. Adding those elements will make the scene real.
 - Finally, make sure there is a reason for the scene. As is true with any scene in any novel - the scene must have a reason for being. Just wanting to include a sex scene is not a reason: the sex scene must advance the story, show something new about the character, and/or show the evolution of the character, in order to be there. That is the golden rule of good quality writing. If there is a reason why it is there, and it sings - if it does not read as cheap porn or a cheap romance novel - your most discerning readers will forgive a lot, even a menage-a-trois.

Our final situation is one that I have occasionally run into, when writers I very much admire tell me they would like to learn to write sex like I do. I am astounded. I often have the same reaction: Why? I have read beautiful sex scenes that brought tears to my eyes, which left echoes of their music long after the read was over. It was not because they were steamy, but because they told of the depth of emotion that sex can evoke in the human heart, and did it in an original way - not with explicit words or even explicit images so much as with metaphor and original thought in describing the soul of the sex act. In my mind - as an editor and as a reader - this type of writer never fails because they give the reader the gift of seeing human experience - and thus their own lives - in a new light. This is the goal of every exceptionally-written scene, and the real talent of every exceptional writer.