Pervert’s Library

by Anita Phillips

Published in 1998 by St. Martin’s Press

A scholarly survey of psychology, history, feminism, literature, and art, Anita Phillips attempts to rescue masochism from its negative popular understanding by asserting that masochism is a core component of the human experience.

While the dense and often tortured prose demonstrates that she worked very hard to prove to the reader how smart she is, she spends so much time doing so that she rarely manages to say anything of much substance. Often after finishing a passage in the book, I found a line from a Dead Kennedys song reverberating in my head, “Brain death, blind desk, school damage…”

As a dedicated fan of what is sometimes maligned as low culture, some of my disappointment with this book is the author’s near obsessive dedication to high culture. In discussing the relationship between art, expression, and masochism, Phillips frequently cites obscure canonical art and literature. Unfortunately, the appeal of such works is largely limited to the ivory tower inhabitants of academia. She then asserts that the “beauty” of the work stems from the creator’s keen understanding of masochism. If masochism truly is as universal as Phillips insists, one wonders why the she did not find its beauty in mainstream or popular art and literature? Curiously, when Phillips does stray from the classics she turns to then-current films of minimal cinematic, cultural, or artistic importance.

While I contemplated the prospect that a masochistic harmony with the world allowed for the creation of art and literature in touch with the essence of human experience, I wondered: do masochists create bad art? My struggle to answer this question led me to another of the book’s faults: whatever masochism might be is never concisely defined. While there is much discussion about what is and what is not masochism, pinning down a concise, consistent definition in this tome is impossible. My guess is that failing to truly pin down what a masochist is allows Phillips enough wiggle room to suggest that if one produced bad art they were not “truly” a masochist. The trouble is that if you never meaningfully define what masochism is, how can you evaluate its defense?

Another annoyance was her analysis of the word masochism itself. Tracing the term’s origin to Krafft-Ebing’s “Psychopathia Sexualis,” Phillips rightly takes issue with the earliest descriptions of masochism deftly pointing out Krafft-Ebing’s many misunderstandings. Yet, she wholly supports his explanation of sadism wholesale. The passage so thoroughly frustrated me that I wished Phillips were nearby so that I might throttle her and good (in a completely non-consensual, non-sensual way lest she enjoy it).

In the spirit of fairness, I lent this book to a friend and masochist. I refrained from telling her my opinion of the book lest it influence hers. Given that my friend is not only a masochist, but also a student of psychology and fan of literature, I thought that she might see some virtue in the book that I overlooked. To my profound amusement, her comments about the book were far more vitriolic than my own. She went so far as to accuse me of meanness for passing the book along.

Masochists are among my favorite people. While I don’t believe for a moment that they require any defense, they certainly deserve a much better one than Phillips provides.

Update: I wrote this review a while ago and is always the case in life things have changed. The aforementioned friend is now my slave and fiance. She, however, still thinks the book is crap.

by Nelson Johns
Published in 1968 by Classic Publications

I purchased this book knowing absolutely nothing about it other than its title. Judging from that, I assumed that I would be in for a predictable ride into the horrors of nymphomania and/or sex addiction. That isn’t very exciting to me, but for some reason I bought the book anyway.

When I actually had the book in my hot little hands, I noticed the cover blurb promising “The confession of young married people whose sexual pleasures could be achieved only by brutality and pain, SADISM and MASOCHISM!” That promise warmed my twisted little heart, and I was glad to have avoided a ho hum nympho expose.

“The Orgasm Addicts” is the life story of a married couple, Nelson and Lana. Though the book only lists one author, the narrative was written as a dialogue. Frustratingly, it’s often difficult to tell when narrator from the other. However, the tone is conversational and the prose reads easily.

Nelson reveals himself a masochist and Lana a sadist. As Nelson recounts his childhood, we learn that Nelson could never quite live up to his father’s expectations of what it is to be a man. As Nelson grows apart from his father, he grows closer to his mother. In fact after Nelson’s father dies, they grow so close that only Oedipus (and perhaps Freud) would approve. Though Nelson grows into a successful real estate agent as an adult, his life story represents an near flawless archetype of a submissive male’s life story as it was (and still is) perceived in the popular consciousness.

Nelson’s wife Lana’s childhood also represents the archetypical background of a sadistic (man-hating) woman Lana too grew up in a “broken” home. Her father died when she was little and her uneducated mother had to work hard to feed Lana’s five siblings. Lana’s introduction to sex came from the landlord via a rape. Soon enough she discovers the power of her sexuality and uses it torment boys at every opportunity.

Neither Nelson nor Lana is able to find anyone they want to marry until they meet. When they do finally meet and date, their shared passion causes them to be hopelessly enamored of each other. The rest of the book is dedicated to the ebb and flow of their marital relations.

After they marry, they turn their back on their kinky sex interests. Their passion wanes and their sex life becomes predictable when it’s existent at all. They eventually rediscover and embrace their respective kinks and grow close again. Expanding their horizons of sexual discovery, they begin to meet other similarly perverted people through correspondence clubs. These encounters cause them to both accept and reject the notion that they’re all alone in the perversion.

And that’s that. Only it’s not. Despite the confusing and distracting confusion I already mention, this is still a good book. While virtually every bit of this tome is clearly fiction designed to scandalize and arouse the reader, there are passages interspersed throughout that suggest a personal familiarity with a sadomasochistic relationship. Especially heartening for me was the passage where Lana discusses the deep respect they hold for each other in terms both endearing and romantic. Later in this same passage is a plea for sexual acceptance that may be the most eloquent I’ve ever read.

by Sadie Cousins, Ph.D. with Hugh Jones, introduction by Harvey T. Leathem, M.D.
Published in 1968 by Classic Publications

Note: Well, at long last, I have finally gotten up off my ass and made a post. Whether or not anyone reads it or cares is hard to say. However, I can take solace in the fact that I finally have meaningful words on my site. Also, I will post a picture of the book cover as soon as I can.

This twisted tale claims three authors, but was in fact written by solely by Jones. The other two are his pseudonyms (see an excerpt from the Feral House book “Sin-A-Rama” at http://feralhouse.com/press/
sin-a-rama/excerpts/sin-a-rama–westcost.pdf, look for page 4 of the pdf, page 33 in the book).

“Confessions of a Pervert” follows the tormented perverted architect, Sam, as he receives treatment from Dr. Cousins. We begin with the introduction by Dr. Leathem. Unable to provide Sam treatment for his multiple sexual preoccupations, Dr. Leathem refers Sam to Dr. Cousins for intense psychoanalysis. Dr. Leathem warns the reader that while the treatment methods employed by Dr. Cousins seem extreme, the unedited tale is too important to censor. We are, after all, interested in the ever forward march of social science.

As Sam’s first session with Dr. Cousins begins, he confesses that he has the piles (hemorrhoids) hough he claims they are not the solely the result of his homosexual relationships but are also aggravated by his long hours sitting at a desk. She demands that he disrobe so she can inspect them and then fingers his anus until he comes just to put Sam at ease. Sam begins to relate that his job takes him to various cities and he has a different “kinky sexuality” for each. In Los Angeles, Sam explores his homosexuality. He further confesses that his analism is strictly limited to men.

Dr. Cousins recommends a radical experiment to observe Sam’s analism first hand. Following the doctor’s instructions, Sam disrobes and goes into an adjoining room to have an encounter with a fellow patient who is lying in the other room. Sam discovers the mystery patient completely covered by a sheet excepting a shapely ass sticking out proudly. Sam has a “fanny screw” with the mystery patient and afterwards while talking with Dr. Cousins he learns the truth about his encounter: it was Dr. Cousins herself under the sheet.

Before his first session concludes, Dr. Cousins brings Sam to yet another orgasm and he declares himself cured of his inverted sexuality. Unfortunately, that’s only the first of Sam’s six perversions and he has several more to tend to.

Eventually, Dr. Cousins’ assistant Carol enters the picture as she assists the good doctor in Sam’s treatment. Sam views Carol as little more than the trash with the abusive motorcycle riding boyfriend. Likewise Carol views same with an equal contempt. During the course of their interactions, their view of each other changes.

If it all sounds convoluted, it is, but I won’t spoil the twists and turns for you. This is such an exaggerated farce that one wonders how it could have ever been presented as a real case history. Still, if you can forgive the book’s excesses, it’s an entertaining fast paced read.

Hi, welcome to the Pervert’s Library. After a few days Wordpress experimentation I decided that it was high time to get off my lazy ass and get something together. Hopefully you will like coming to the site and reading about the far out and dirty corners of the literary world. If not, fuck you too.

Update: Well, I finally did it, I made a post.  Soon I will make another and another.  Then I’ll go off the deep end and add photos.  It’ll be swank.  Look for more improvements to follow.