Whoa!

About a book a week is my average.  With that number in mind, I'll say it's a feat to get a rise out of me while I'm reading: to make me laugh so hard that I have to stop reading to compose myself, repulse me to the point of squeamishness (okay, that one happens more than most) or shock me to the point of spoken expletives. 

The latter happened this morning, thanks to Michael Swanwick and Dancing with Bears.  I'll not give away particulars as to not spoil the moment for potential readers.  There was a brief passage on faith, pleasure, suffering, heaven, hell and earthly existence.  These topics were disscused against a backdrop of sex.  It really got me thinking and apparently I misinterpreted the passage as much as the novel's character in question and when matters were cleared up all I could say was, " **** **** **."  And laugh my way to work.

When was the last time a book got a powerful physical emotion (good or bad) from you as a reader?