In 1969 a group of male journalists perpetrated one of literary historys lamest hoaxes: they wrote a smut book devoid of literary merit, to prove that readers are jackoffs. The book was a bestseller, partly due to the fact that they all announced the hoax pretty quickly.Legend* has it that head smutwriter Mike McGrady edited many chapters because they were too good, which explains why the book has a uniform tone despite its writing by committee, and also why that tone is so shitty.
Each journalist contributed a chapter in which mindless femme fatale Gilly (I hate that name) seduces and destroys a different kind of man: a mobster, a rabbi, her own abortionist, a gay guy.* Legend = WikipediaThe variety comes in the targets, not the sex- there is no interesting sex here. Unless you like ice cubes in your butt, which a) you do not, and b) thats the first chapter and it might fool you into thinking the rest of the book is going to be more interesting than it is.
It is in fact hella boring. So boring, guys. Some guy is indifferently described- Gilly (still hate that name) seduces him- five or so sentences are given over to describing her ass, which is made of magic- they have sex and the dudes like wow, this is great sex Im having- something unfortunate happens to the guy. You get the impression that the guys writing the book thought these twist endings were hilarious, but theyre not. Theyre dumb.I hear this book is out of print, so you probably wont ever run across it. If you do, feel free to read up through the ice cube part- youll get the idea and its sortof trashy fun.
Probably best to take my word for it and not read past that, unless you like being bored. Im gonna give it two stars instead of one because this would be a great book to have on your shelves- the title and cover are terrific. Great for owning. Not for reading.