“Lust has nothing to do with perfection.”

A conversation with Sandra Manther about body, shame, and female sexuality

With her literary erotic novella “Schleim” (engl.: Slime), Sandra Manther ventures into a topic that rarely finds a place in the portrayal of female sexuality: physical resistance, discomfort, silence. Her text is not a smooth fantasy – but an exploration between lust and disgust, between touch and loss of self. We spoke with the author about shame, sensuality, and the power of unfamiliar touches.

Ms. Manther, you have given your new book a title that many associate with repulsion: “Schleim”. Why?

Sandra Manther: Precisely for that reason. Because the word immediately triggers a reaction—a frown, an inner withdrawal. Yet mucus is something everyday. Something deeply physical. In sexuality—especially female sexuality—it is constantly present, but almost never visible in language. And when it is, it’s as something that should be removed. I was interested in what happens when you don’t exclude it, but put it at the center.

Your protagonist Stella loses her aversion to precisely this physicality over the course of the story. What makes her a character for you?

Sandra Manther: Like many people, Stella has internalized the idea that pleasure should above all be controlled, clean, and harmonious. But her body doesn’t play along. It reacts where she doesn’t want it to. It produces where she feels ashamed. That’s not a pathology. That’s reality. I wanted to write a character who doesn’t immediately resolve these contradictions, but endures them. Who faces her disgust instead of therapying it away.

In a particularly impressive scene, Stella encounters her own lust through—snails. That sounds confusing at first.

Sandra Manther: (laughs) Yes, that was my intention. I wanted an animal that isn’t aggressive. That doesn’t “do” sexuality, but simply moves. Slowly. Wet. Without judgment. For me, the snail is almost the antithesis of everything we associate with sexuality: no gaze, no goal, no aesthetics. And that’s precisely why it sets something in motion.

Your text is very explicit—and at the same time tender, almost sober. How did you find the balance?

Sandra Manther: I didn’t want to excite, but to take it seriously. Not to tip into vulgarity, but also not to obscure. My aim was to show the female body in all its contradictions without judging it. So no judgments like “beautiful,” “hot,” “perfect” – but rather: What is there? How does it feel? How does skin react to moisture, muscles to tension, a vulva to warmth?

What do you hope readers will take away from “Schleim”?

Sandra Manther: Perhaps the courage not to constantly correct their own bodies. Perhaps also the impulse to listen to themselves—not only cognitively, but also sensually. And in the best case: the knowledge that even something seemingly disgusting can be a door to intimacy.

Thank you very much for talking to us.