which is basically what this book is.ĭespite the lingering on the violence and the restraining, piercing, branding, whipping, the sex act itself is glossed over to the extent that at one point o has taken on several lovers, to completion, in the span of three sentences. but even more boring than reading about sex? reading about non-sex. I have said it before on here, but it bears repeating: despite my recent fascination with monster erotica, i personally find reading about sex boring.
i am really only interested in talking about why this book is boring. if you want to talk about why bondage erotica is bad for women or how negation porn makes its readers complicit in the victimization of women halfway across the globe or to sip tea and talk about depersonalization or dehumanization or anything even remotely intelligent - more power to you, but this book bored me so much i don't even care to elevate it or grant it any sort of intellectual discussion. I am not going to write a serious review of this book. She could scarcely have been more highbrow, nor, according to de St Jorre, more quietly and soberly dressed, more 'nun-like'. A translator, editor and judge of literary prizes, for a quarter of a decade, Aury was the only woman to sit on the reading committee of publishers Gallimard (a body that also included Albert Camus) and was a holder of the Légion d'Honneur. The writer's true identity was not revealed until 10 years ago, when, in an interview with John de St Jorre, a British journalist and some-time foreign correspondent of The Observer, an impeccably dressed 86-year-old intellectual called Dominique Aury (born Anne Desclos) acknowledged that the fantasies of castles, masks and debauchery were hers.Īury was an eminent figure in literary France, and had been when she wrote the book at the age of 47. Pauline Réage, the author, was a pseudonym, and many people thought that the book could only have been written by a man. Published simultaneously in French and English, Story of O portrayed explicit scenes of bondage and violent penetration in spare, elegant prose, the purity of the writing making the novel seem reticent even as it dealt with demonic desire, with whips, masks and chains. Fifty years ago, an extraordinary pornographic novel appeared in Paris.
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