$12.24
ISBN 1881943224
available through
Amazon
Reviewed by Jean Roberta
(11/16/05)
Books by people who are known as Personalities always seem to be either surprising or disappointing. They are surprising if they could stand on their own, aside from the author's persona, and disappointing if they come across as hype or fluff. This book is a meaty surprise that has content as well as style. Like the poster-quality photos of Fetish Diva Midori by photographer Steve Diet Goedde which pop up throughout the book, the essays in it convey a sensibility rather than an ego.
The essays, written between 1997 and 2005, are sorted into four sections: "Fundamentals of Kink I," "Fundamentals of Kink II," "Fetish Eroticism," and "Tips and Tricks for Adventurous Sex." The first three sections are relatively philosophical, and the last reads like an advice column.
As the author explains, the essays in the first three sections of the book are largely intended for an audience with some experience in the world of leather, BDSM, or fetish, while the fourth section (which tackles Frequently Asked Questions) seems more clearly intended for novices. This format looks fairly standard for a BDSM manual.
While this is not the only "book of kink," it has a distinct flavor. The author's focus on the esthetic qualities of a scene and a culture makes her writing seem like a verbal complement to the fantasy art of Michael Manning, which appears on her website and which features caricatures (in the most respectful sense) of the San Francisco pro dommes he knows and loves, including Midori. But I digress.
In her introduction, the author explains how she began writing about sex: "I was in my mid 20s...San Francisco Sex Information, a free sexual information hotline and resource center, had given me some of the most innovative and thorough human sexuality education available.... This training and my desire to make something of that knowledge landed me a job with a very large sex toy mail-order company. As one of my work duties I started writing pithy little sex advice columns...They weren't meant for the general public, but intended as little throwaway pieces for a tiny, closed-list group. Little did I know that fifteen years later, I'd be traveling the world teaching classes in adventurous sex, and writing about the many things I've learned."
Since her humble beginnings, Midori has become known as an authority on Japanese rope bondage, among other things. The elaborate bondage shoots for which she has provided guidance are a far cry from the images of bound-and-gagged damsels, apparent victims of hoodlums, which appeared in the more daring "men's" magazines of the Bettie Page era.
Grace and elegance are characteristic of Midori's style of feminine dominance. As she points out, the difference between "fetish" photography and "fashion" photography these days is often simply a difference of context.
The section on "fetish eroticism" was the most enlightening for this reviewer, and the most historical. (If I'm still hazy on where devotion to, say, a spike-heeled shoe splits off from enjoyment of all the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and tactile pleasures associated with sex, I can't complain that the subject has not been thoroughly explained.) Here is Midori's introduction to the subject:
"Contrary to common beliefs, fetishists, SM-ers, and D/s folks are not the same. They are groups of people...that exist in overlapping circles...a fetishist is someone whose sensual and sexual arousal is greatly enhanced by objects, body parts, and other elements not directly related to intercourse."
She explains the historical development of fetish eroticism as a byproduct of the industrial evolution and the rise of materialism, of upward mobility and of individualism as something that could be expressed by acquiring things. Midori gives a specific example of how attachment to fetish items can develop:
"In our society, we value material power and material possessions, so when a boy comes to some sexual awareness, the materials that provocatively hide and bar his access to his objects of desire, the person, eventually take on the potency of that object of desire itself. Perhaps these barriers are stockings, shoes, panties, school uniform, and for some, even veils or hajibs. Object worship in our culture is practiced widely, whether subtly or openly."
Midori describes her own fetish eroticism in poetic terms:
"The dark seductive smell of leather sends a rush of adrenaline into my chest. I am aroused.
"In the tight shiny second skin of latex, my curves slid through the world, a flesh-made high performance super racer. I feel sleek and sexy."
She describes her wardrobe as "extensive and expensive." Caring for it is clearly among the duties of those who choose to serve her.
As a member of several of the "overlapping circles" of kink, the author explains the fascination of sadomasochism:
"I do SM in search of a moment's clarity and pureness of existence. In the acts of SM and D/s I shed layers. I shed the layers of calcified defenses and starched propriety and peel away my civilized veneer... I step knowingly into a dimension where lies and false intentions may turn around and bite me back like a poorly handled bullwhip. When I play, I must be honest to my hungers."
She also points out that "effective dominance comes from the core of the person." In one essay, she discusses the qualities of a good dominant (masculine or feminine), and in another, she summarizes one of her workshops for women in how to discover one's own femme power.
There are some useful warnings in this book, aimed at those who might be lured into a "kink" community (or into the role of a pro domme) for poorly-considered reasons. As the author points out: "If you're broken, SM will not fix you."
Midori's writing style is generally so clear that it would be hard to guess that English is not her first language. Unfortunately, this book, like too many others on erotic subjects, includes dozens of spelling errors and grammatical mistakes ("who's" mistaken for "whose," sentences with too many verbs, or not enough), and this sloppiness seems ironic. This book, after all, was written by a woman with a psychology degree from the University of California at Berkeley who seems to value competence in all things, and who acknowledges the work of an editor and four proofreaders in bringing the book to completion.
Perhaps most other readers simply ignore such details. Perhaps this reviewer (who has a day job teaching mandatory first-year university English classes) has a fetish. It's hard to know. But clearly, I'm not the only one who believes that style is important.
