Pervert’s Library

By Jack Rinella
Published in 2004 by Greenery Press

Just when I was ready to give up on ever reading a well-written BDSM book I happened to pluck this little gem from my collection. Unlike most of the Greenery Press’ writers, Rinella writes in a clear concise style. Better still, rather than rambling about fantasies he has, he incorporates the experiences of others into his narrative and uses those experiences to explain things he’s already discussed or introduce new ideas.

If you are unfamiliar with the Greenery Press’ Toybag Guides, they are small pocket-sized books devoted to BDSM topics. Though Rinella spends most of his discussion on the most common of all clamps, clothespins, he also discusses other styles of clamps discussing their utility and limitations.

I can only think of two things he fails to discuss about clamps. First, in his listing of clamps used in play, he does not discuss sheet metal clamps. This may be due to the fact that they are less commonly used in play or it may be because they are comparatively more dangerous than the other clamps he discusses (a concern he could hardly be faulted for having). That he simply is unaware of them, while possible, seems unlikely.

While some people enjoy modifying their play clothespins with small nails or other objects to increase their bite, I personally have never found the reward worth the effort. That Rinella didn’t mention this bothers me not at all. However, I was surprised that he didn’t mention that clothespins can be taken apart and reversed for a different sensation. For those who love trivia, folks in the motion picture industry refer to a clothespin as a “C47” and a reversed clothespin as a “C74.” (Full credit for that tidbit of knowledge belongs to Hardy Haberman (Myspace link) for that bit of knowledge.)

Despite this book’s short length, I enjoyed it and it will remain a handy reference for years to come.

Edited by Robin Bougie
Published in 2007 by Fab Press

I don’t like comics. I suppose comics are fine if you are a little kid, but adults should have much better things to do than read comics.

I also don’t like going to the movies. If you catch me after I stand in line, pay way too much for my ticket, and get raped at the concession stand you will already have me ready to join any plan that calls for genocide. Add to that enduring the company of so many people who are using what might otherwise be precious air, and yours truly is done.

While I could watch movies at home, I rarely have the time and even less rarely have the inclination. Another hassle is that getting a good movie involves more energy than I care to invest. One problem is that there really aren’t many avenues available to get the sorts of movies that appeal to me. Some of you might be content to go to a certain national chain I won’t mention by name (it rhymes with cock duster), I think a trip there has all the appeal of the traditional movie theater.

Another thing that limits my movie watching is that few movies tickle my fancy. Even watching XXX movies is tedious. Porn is the kind of experience that should leave you feeling queasy and disturbed by the state of humanity. Unfortunately, the supply of such fare is scant and the overwhelming majority of what the porn store stocks is a bore.

So what is someone that dislikes comics and movies doing reading this book? It’s simple, Bougie’s work is so good, I couldn’t put this down. Bougie’s talent as an artist and enthusiasm for his subject comes through on each and every page such that I reconsidered my aversion to comics and movies.

The pages of Cinema Sewer focus on coverage of obscure horror, low budget 60s and 70s exploitation, Hong Kong cinema, and (my personal favorite) classic and extreme pornography.

Though Bougie’s love of extreme and obscure movies shines through in his writing, it doesn’t obscure his objectivity. When a film is good, Bougie’s excitement is contagious. If a film is bad, his criticism is biting, thought provoking, and entertaining.

While I could go on and on in singing the praises of Cinema Sewer, it is so good that you should experience it yourself. If you buy no other book this year, it should be this one. Truly the best book I have read in some time.

by Jay Wiseman
Published in 1996 by Greenery Press

I remember back in the 1980s there was a commercial for an instructional break dancing video. The break dancing fad was already on the wane by the time the video marketers decided to shamelessly capitalize on it, but that mattered little as the video’s target audience was clearly middle class parents, rarely the avant-garde of anything

The fashions and set design of the commercial clearly showed the influence of “street” culture. But these weren’t the frightening urban streets of Harlem’s slums; instead these were the cul-de-sacs of suburbia. What really resonates in my consciousness was the cheery announcer allaying the fears of parents everywhere with the promise that the video offered “the safe way to break.” You know the fun is over and mediocrity has set in when something is safe enough to sell to the middle-aged middle class.

Naturally, you may be wondering what that has to do with an introductory book on sadomasochism. On the surface, not much. But after reading SM 101: A Realistic Introduction, I couldn’t help but be reminded of how something seemingly relegated to our cultural fringes could be commodified into something “safe” and not so frightening that everyone can embrace it.

Doing so was not Wiseman’s stated objective. In the introduction, he states that his purpose in writing the book is to give readers as much education about S/M sex as one might expect from an introductory college course. He does a very good job of this, but something is missing. Or more to the point, there’s just too much of something.

After finishing and contemplating the work, I initially wondered if Wiseman didn’t have a safety fetish that borders on the pathological. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing in and of itself. Surely we all want to avoid injuring our lovers even as we do evil, sadistic things to them. Likewise no matter how outré someone’s fantasies are, no reasonable person wants their fantasy fulfillment to end with a maiming. It would surely be irresponsible, at best, to offer instruction on S/M and not take pains to make sure the advice didn’t includes lots of information about safety.

It should be hard to fault the book for including too much of an emphasis on safety, yet I can’t help but think there is a natural tension between that which is safe and that which is fun. That isn’t to say that safe and fun are mutually exclusive; while every person clearly has a threshold where being endangered can only be perceived as a terrifying fear, lots of people experience some amount of fear or awareness of danger as excitement or fun. Were that not the case there would be no lines at roller coasters or horror movies. Likewise, S/M should be fun. If it isn’t, what’s the point in doing it?

While debate about what exactly S/M is, and is not, will never reach unanimity, without doubt a large part of it involves exploring, both physically and psychologically, the darker places of our consciousness. If S/M is completely safe is it any fun? Is it still even S/M? I think the answer to both questions is clearly no.

That’s what troubles me about this book’s excessive emphasis on safety: I don’t think that its overemphasis was intended for someone interested in learning about S/M. Instead, I get the feeling that Wiseman obsessed about safety to allay the arguments of those who claim S/M is abuse. The trouble is, not only are critics of S/M unlikely to read this book in the first place, they are also unlikely to persuaded that S/M isn’t abuse no matter how safe and consensual it is.

Despite this criticism, this book is still a wonderful resource for someone interested in learning about S/M, and to be fair, much of the safety information (e.g. safe calls) is essential advice that one would be foolish to not observe. Wiseman writes in an affable conversation style that is clear and avoids the fictionalized interludes that drag down many books of this type. While some of the information about using the internet as a resource is out of date, given the way that the internet has changed since the last revision, this was inevitable and forgivable.

If Wiseman revises this book again (this is the second edition) and focuses on the novice S/M audience - instead of the vanilla audience he’ll never convince anyway - he will have written a book that will remain essential reading for S/M novices for generations to come. Even if Wiseman doesn’t revise the book, flaws and all, for those wanting to learn about S/M the book is worthwhile.

By William A. Henkin and Sybil Holiday
Published in 1996 by Daedalus Publishing Company

This book’s table of contents left me wary because it devotes 150 pages to what the authors refer to as a “safety manual”. I am firmly of the opinion that if you think BDSM has to be “safe” you probably should find a different sexual outlet. That isn’t to say that I think it is okay to be reckless when you play. Far from it. I think that we all have to recognize that BDSM is an inherently risky activity that demands we each take personal responsibility for when we play. To be clear, I don’t think that the only risks are physical.

In fact, I think that the physical risks are the least severe. It is the emotional risks that we take when we play that are the most extreme. These risks aren’t the sole purview of bottoms (or submissives or bottoms or whatever the Hell it is someone chooses to call themselves. I could write a lengthy rant about how silly we can be about terminology. Someday I just may…) Indeed, tops (or dominants…same rant…) also take just as much emotional risk when we play.

Luckily despite my initial worries the discussions of playing safely aren’t heavy handed. Instead, they serve as brief introductions to the sorts of play they describe. Sometimes, these discussions seem too brief. However if these types of play were all covered in the depth they demand, the book would be so long it would be too intimidating for all but the most dedicated reader to pick up.

Also important to remember that BDSM is ultimately not something that one learns from a book but instead is only learned from practice and experience. (I should add that this process of learning is ongoing. The most dangerous sorts of people are those that maintain they have nothing left to learn.) This is a point the authors make more than once by cautioning anyone interested in such play to learn from someone with lots of experience.

Another refreshing thing about this book is the total absence of fictional fantasy sequences from its pages. I have no idea why such fantasy scenes take up so much of the space of most BDSM how-to books as their inclusion detracts rather than enhances.

Unfortunately, even though this book avoids the annoying fantasy sequences it does include another flaw that rears its head all too often in BDSM books: new age spirituality. Even though I don’t personally have much use for spirituality I recognize that there is a time and a place for it; I’m just dumbfounded why anyone believes that time and place to be inside a book about how to beat people.

BDSM spirituality almost invariably manifests itself in one of two ways, Wicca/paganism or Indian mysticism (Tantra). Most published BDSM books come from California and have the Indian bent confirming yet another hippie-dippy California stereotype. Locally, most “spiritual” practitioners I know seem to be of the Wicca/Pagan/mother earth/bridge troll persuasion. Just once I would love to hear someone report that while they were “flying” in the middle of a scene they felt closer to, oh I dunno, Isis. I’d settle for a report of an out of body experience where someone tongued Satan’s asshole. Alas, I suspect that I will remain forever disappointed.

But I digress, despite the predictable embrace of spirituality, Consensual Sadomasochism is an excellent introductory book for those wanting to explore BDSM and those interested in learning more would be well served by reading it.

P.S. Some of you poor misguided people out there are under the impression that activities involving consent are “consentual.” Those of you who are sticklers for spelling and grammatical accuracy (aka “grammar Nazis” like myself) are already well aware that there is no such word as “consentual” and cringe upon seeing it. The word is properly spelled consensual. Learn it, love it, live it.

by Race Bannon
Published in 1992 by Daedalus Publishing

Given that this book was written as an introduction to S/M, the title seems a tad misleading and suggests a heavy emphasis on rope bondage. While there is a fine section devoted to introductory bondage, there’s lots more to Learning the Ropes. Bannon writes in a friendly conversational style that is easy to follow. In some ways the book almost seems too short, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that isn’t the case. Instead, Bannon deserves heaps of praise for being at once concise and thorough. Everything someone interested in learning about S/M needs to know is covered, but Bannon rightfully takes the reader only so far before making the reader responsible for learning about their own desires and how to fulfill them.

While Bannon is clearly deeply concerned with safety, he recognizes that we all bear a certain amount of personal responsibility for it. The result is wonderful. Readers are armed with the tools they’ll need to be reasonably safe, but not so badgered about it that the reader might wonder if the book were written by the same lawyers that write safety warnings on power tools.

Even though the book manages to be guilty of using fictionalized interludes, they appear once after an explanation of their purpose. Most fantastically, instead of hampering the flow of the book they manage to actually enhance it.

The next time someone new to BDSM asks about books they should read, I’ll make a point to recommend this one. It’s that good.

I’m surprised that it isn’t more widely recognized compared to other books that offer advice to those learning about S/M. I can think of two reasons why this might be the case.

First, Daedalus is a smaller company whose books aren’t as widely distributed as publishing companies like Greenery Press or Mystic Rose. If a book isn’t easily obtainable, it’s less likely to be adopted as a standard text.

The second reason I can think of for the book’s lack of prominence saddens me: Bannon is gay. While I’ll admit that I’m in a poor position to judge the book’s standing within the gay S/M community, I can’t help but think his sexuality pushes him to the fringes in the “pansexual” community.

In theory, a pansexual community values everyone equally without regard to their sexuality. In practice, heterosexual men tend to be held in the highest esteem. Curiously, while the cachet of bisexual women is as high, if not higher, than that of heterosexual women, bisexual men are viewed with large amounts of suspicion by men and women alike. Gay men occupy a space somewhat above their bisexual counterparts, but they’re still not seen as quite as “good” as heterosexuals. The transgendered are on the outside looking in.

I admit with a some of shame that I’m never sure how to relate to the transgendered. I worry a great deal about pronouns – I’m never sure which to use. Asking would no doubt be the easiest way of finding out. The trouble is that by asking you’re forced to confront the fact that someone is different and one wants very much to not make someone feel different – that’s the reason that not getting pronouns right causes so much anxiety in the first place. So there I am avoiding someone because I fear that in talking to them I’ll say something offensive and make them feel awkward. Yet avoiding the transgendered and all but guarantees they will feel like outsiders. It’s a vicious cycle. The worst part is knowing that I’m losing out too. When I pick the people who I consider my friends, I judge them based on whether they are interesting, treat me and others fairly, and support me when I need it. Whether or not that person is a man, woman, or transperson doesn’t really affect that one whit.

But I digress. This is a fine book that would be a good resource to anyone regardless of their sexual or S/M orientation. Sadly, Learning the Ropes appears to be out of print, but if you want to learn about S/M it is well worth the time and effort to track it down.

by Dossie Eastman and Janet W. Hardy
Published in 2003 by Greenery Press

Covering everything from negotiation to aftercare The New Topping Book is a thorough guide to the emotional side of topping. While the practical advice is expected, it’s the unexpected things that make this book truly worthwhile.

I was particularly heartened to see the “Top’s Bill of Rights.” Too often, the fact that we as tops have needs is overlooked (even by other tops). I suppose that the general belief that if the top is in charge and not getting his needs met it is his own failure. This is at best simplistic. A good scene is like a dance; unless you’re Billy Idol dancing with yourself isn’t much fun.

Naturally not only do tops have rights but also responsibilities and “The Top’s List of Responsibilities” delineates these well.

Having something go wrong in a scene is inevitable. Sometimes that wrong thing turns out to be something nice though that obviously isn’t normally the case. The pages devoted to preparing for this eventuality are of particular interest, and will help give any responsible top the tools he needs to manage a scene.

I can only find one fault with this book: the narrative interludes. Their appearance needlessly jolts the flow of the book. While learning from other people’s experiences is invaluable, the book would have improved if those experiences were relayed in the same voice that the rest of the text is written in. This is but a minor complaint and the book is more than strong enough to overcome it. Highly recommended.