One of February 2023 fun reads.
Because I like Chuck P. so much when he isn’t directly talking about sex, I figured I would read one of his books in which he does directly talk about sex.
It turns out, I like it, but in a different way.
When he wrote about not-sex things, it was like sex.
When he writes about sex things, it is like a tragedy.
The blurb for “Snuff” is this:
In the crowded greenroom of a porn-movie production, hundreds of men mill around in their boxers, awaiting their turn with the legendary Cassie Wright. An aging adult film star, Cassie Wright intends to cap her career by breaking the world record for serial fornication by having sex with 600 men on camera—one of whom may want to kill her. Told from the perspectives of Mr. 72, Mr. 137, Mr. 600, and Sheila, the talent wrangler who must keep it all under control, Snuff is a dark, wild, and lethally funny novel that brings the presence of pornography in contemporary life into the realm of literary fiction.
So, yeah, there is a lot of sex, a lot of description of sex, a lot of history of sex, trivia about sex, etc etc etc.
But at its core, this book was so sad. It wasn’t because the predominant topic was sex; it was because the underlying story was sad, no, tragic.
Given this, I came to wonder about the relationship between shock value and the truth. I am guessing that quite a few people won’t read this book simply because there is so much sex talk; but underneath all that, there is so much sorrow in this story.
This book will be sponged.
#reading
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