Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns front cover

By Philip Miller and Molly Devon
Published in 1995 by Mystic Rose Books

A friend is often fond of telling me that he was there at the moment that inspired this book’s title.  While he is generally reliable, I don’t know that there is any way to ever verify the veracity of that claim.

Screw the Roses, Send Me the Thorns is often referred to as the ideal primer for anyone newly interested in exploring an interest in BDSM.  Having read this and numerous introductory BDSM texts, I can only conclude that this book is so often recommended because it has a catchy title.  Compared to all of the other BDSM primers, this is by far the worst of the lot.

While the flow of the book is consistent with others of its type, Screw the Roses is filled with cheesy photographs and even cheesier jokes.  For example, chapter 9, devoted to flogging, is titled, “Philip’s Philosophy of Phlogging Phun.”

While using lighthearted prose to put a nervous beginner at ease with BDSM seems reasonable, rather than making the BDSM seem fun (or should it be “phun”?) the bad jokes interrupt the flow and undercut the authors’ credibility.

If one can wade past the distracting jokes, there really is lots of useful information that everyone new to BDSM play would benefit from knowing, and if this is the only primer you can locate you won’t suffer from reading it.  However, if you are choosing an introductory BDSM book, you will be better served to read Learning the Ropes by Race Bannon or Consensual Sadomasochism by William A. Henkin and Sybil Holiday.

Intimate Invasions front cover

by M.R. Strict
Published in 2004 by Greenery Press

Klysmaphilia or enema play is one of those topics that embarrasses most people to talk about, much less express an interest in. Given that, a Greenery Press book devoted to the topic would seem a very worthwhile effort towards expanding everyone’s comfort and familiarity with the topic. Or at least, that’s what I thought prior to reading the book. It pains me to have to say this (for one thing I bristle at the bad pun), but simply put this book is shitty.

One consistently annoying thing about BDSM books in general, and Greenery Press titles in particular, is a writing style that uses fantasy scenes interspersed in between matter of fact discussion.  Having endured more of these books than anyone really ought, I have come to the conclusion that most BDSM books would not be published were they written about any other topic.  Books about even such potentially mundane topics as gardening, cooking, and sewing are generally better written than even the best BDSM book.  It is so bad that I own any number of books that I would be embarrassed to have the coroner find on my bookshelf not because they are dirty but simply because they are poorly written.

But I digress. The most astonishing part about Intimate Invasions is that even though it clocks in at about 140 pages, there are perhaps 20 that contain useful information. Without the awful fantasy sequences this book might have been a good fit for Greenery Press’ “Toybag Guide” series.  But even that might be a stretch since even those 20 pages are not reliable because M.R. Strict’s knowledge and advice seems suspect. As bad as the factual sections are, the fantasy sequences are even worse.

Just how bad is this book? It is so bad that I would put more faith in the advice from any number of 1970s enema guides marketed by the same companies that specialized enema themed pornography.  Even though they often recommend such potentially dangerous practices as giving wine enemas, they tend to demonstrate a greater passion and knowledge of their subject.

I hope that another BDSM publisher and/or author will devote a book to this worthwhile topic. They certainly will have no trouble writing something better than this.

Anyone You Want Me to Be: A True Story of Sex and Death on the Internet front cover

by John Douglas and Stephen Singular
Published in 2003 by Scribner

Written by former FBI criminal profiler John Douglas and true crime author Stephen Singular, Anyone You Want Me to Be traces the life and criminal exploits of serial murderer John “Slavemaster” Robinson. If you’re unfamiliar with Robinson’s crimes you can read his Wikipedia article.

Because Robinson’s victims are not unlike many of the submissive women I know and care about, this book was a difficult read as I kept imagining one of them meeting a horrible fate. Anyone contemplating turning an online BDSM romance into a real life meeting would be highly advised to read this book.  That isn’t because meaningful, fulfilling, and loving relationship with someone you meet online aren’t possible, but because you really don’t know who is on the other end of the machine.

One thing that I did find particularly satisfying is that while Robinson was able to con many women he met online, one wouldbe victim he met in person had the foresight to set up a safecall. To be fair, despite the safecall the woman didn’t survive her encounter with Robinson completely unscathed – Robinson stole her toy bag.  If you ask me, even if they hadn’t found the barrels filled his bodies, stealing someone’s toybag is a capital offense. Kidding aside, it was this act that finally gave the police probably cause to arrest Robinson and led to the discovery of his victims.

Whether it is because, or in spite, of the fact that this book will haunt your thoughts for days after you read it, I can’t recommend it highly enough.

Learning the Ropes front cover

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 is a lot more to Learning the Ropes than just bondage. Bannon writes in a friendly conversational style that is easy to follow. In some ways the book almost seemed too short, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that is not the case.  Instead, Bannon deserves heaps of praise for being at once concise and thorough.  Everything someone newly 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 will need to be reasonably safe, but not so badgered about safety that they might wonder if the book were written by the same lawyers that power tool owner manuals.

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 often on the outside looking in.

I admit with 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.

Tom of Finland front cover

By F. Valentine Hooven III
Published in 1993 by St. Martin’s Press

Recently I was talking to a leatherman.  I call him a leatherman not because was he dressed in leather, but because he embodied that perfect combination of humble confidence and grace. He was, in may ways, the personification of an idealized leatherman. Atop his head was an amazing leather hat which perfectly framed his countenance and vice versa.  As I complimented his hat, I mentioned that it made him look like he had stopped off the page of one of Tom of Finland’s drawings.  He responded thoughtfully, “we all look like that on the inside.”  It was a comment immense in both its beauty and insight.

If you only recently came out from under a rock and are completely unfamiliar with Tom of Finland’s work, he was, and still is, the best and most famous artist of gay erotica.  His work is known for his highly stylized depictions of flawless hyper-masculine figures such as laborers, cops, and, obviously enough, leathermen.

Hooven’s biography traces Tom of Finland’s life beginning with his childhood in rural Finland to his death. I don’t know much about the background of this book’s author other than that his name shows up as the author of a book devoted to Beefcake magazines of the 50s through 70s.  Were I more motivated, I might seek him out and find out more about him. Regardless, Hooven’s prose is reminiscent of the Weekly Reader.  In some ways that easy writing style makes the book light and easy to read.  In others, it makes the makes the book, and by extension, its subject seem a bit lightweight.

One of the book’s surprising highlights was the Tom of Finland’s service during World War II.  I never really considered Finland’s participation in the war and the war’s affect on Finland before reading the book.  While I don’t know enough about gay sexual expression during the war to accept or reject the veracity of Hooven’s descriptions of clandestine gay sexual encounters during the war, they were both plausible and compelling. The rest of the book traces Tom of Finland’s career as an artist from his work as a graphic illustrators to his transformation as a fulltime erotic artist, finally culminating in Tom of Finland’s recognition as an outstanding painter.

Though Hooven discusses Tom of Finland’s career as an advertising illustrator, a more detailed description of his advertising work would give the reader a broader picture of Tom of Finland’s artistic influences and background.  Another detail of Tom of Finland’s life that seemed to merit more discussion was his relationship with his long term partner Veli.  Despite being portrayed as a protective confidante when Tom is taken advantage of in his business dealings, Hooven depicts Veli as little more than a minor character in Tom of Finland’s life. Providing a more complete picture of who Tom’s life partner is and how he interacted with Tom would provide a greater insight into both Tom and his works.

Hooven also declines (fails?) to discuss Tom of Finland’s family.  One wonders if he were out to them and, if so, how they reacted to his sexuality.  Also, were they aware of his art and success?  If so, were they proud or ashamed? If Hooven knows, he doesn’t tell the reader.

Even with these minor omissions, Hooven’s work provides a fine insight into the life and work of Tom of Finland and anyone interested in erotic artists, BDSM history, or gay and/or leather iconography will enjoy this book.