A Source book on Sex for People of Size
& Those Who Love
Them
Hanne Blank
Greenery Press
Let's start at the deep end. `Black people should not be allowed to have sex.' Oh dear, you think, how could anyone express that? Alright, how about saying `gay people' or `Catholics' or `old people'? Still not an acceptable notion? Not a comfortable concept? So tell me: why then is it alright to believe that fat people shouldn't be fucking?
Hanne Blank, a name well known in Fat Acceptance circles, believes that it could be because we live in a culture that makes fat (however you personally define it) an `overarching evil'. Don't believe that? Take a look at your latest copy of whatever fashion rag you read. (Take a look at Diva even, not an ounce of excess fat there. I realised too that it's been six years, almost to the month, since anything substantial about the dreaded spectre of FAT appeared within Diva's pages.)
Now, fat is `a perfectly serviceable Anglo-Saxon monosyllable' and - rather like the term `lesbian' - has been used as an insult. This book turns all that on its head, and kicks its upturned arse with a large boot. And being the proud fatty that I am, albeit one bereft of decent fat-friendly rhetoric, I savoured every word. It proved a lot of what I and many others have thought over the years - that the stereotype is `the lamest of excuses for assaults, harassment and medical malpractice'; that fat and sex don't mix (some half-arsed theory that sex = a result of sexual desire, and fat, of course, isn't desirable, it's ugly); and that fat is actually no more than `genetics, upbringing and dumb luck.'
And certainly, Blank pulls no punches. The language is that of a gruff matron with a generous heart who slaps down anti-fat polemic with a `suitably offended fat hand'. In addition to a well rounded (no pun) resource section (admittedly fixed in the USA: the UK fat acceptance movement hasn't really taken off here - yet), Blank covers issues of flirting and dating, the use of the Internet chatrooms, medical and hygienic care, the joy of fat sex (and oh what a joy it is! - `more bounce to the ounce'!) and BDSM, disproves many of the assumptions of and attributes given to fat people, how to deal with anti-fat comments (`Yes I am, and clearly you're a rocket scientist'), and even delves into the fact that the lesbian community `isn't always honest about size discrimination'. At last, someone else noticed!
But please, don't ignore this book because it's one that - for once - focuses on fat people (irrespective of age, gender, colour or sexuality): this is a book for anyone who ever fell into that trap of thinking their bum looks big. While being thin is apparently more of an attainable ideal than fat, thin people get short shrift too, and even they can garner some comfort and confidence from Blank's book. If only this book had been on the shelves when I was 13!
Maybe all of this is why Diva's very own book service has been inundated with requests? Maybe it's because we are so starved (again, no pun) of decent books with intellectual reasoning and affirmatory work such as this. Can you imagine what will happen with Blank publishes Zaftig: Well Rounded Erotica (Cleis Press, due Spring 2001) - `size-positive erotica and plus-sized passion'!
I would recommend this book to ANYONE. It's wonderfully written: funny, yet stern in places, full of brilliantly phrased advice, and a fast read - couldn't put it down, and even the sections of straight love didn't pall me. Maybe Big Big Love will be the tome that starts the fat acceptance revolution here (and about time too!).
© Megan Radclyffe 2000
MARTINA UNAUTHORISED
Adrienne Blue
Gollancz
Adrianne Blue is not - it seems - accustomed to writing books that are part-novel and part-fact, but she has a bloody good crack at it. She issues a disclaimer within her acknowledgements that she has "dramatised events during matches and elsewhere, never going beyond statements made in interviews with me or my colleagues". You'd be hard pushed to believe her, particularly when she "reconstructs" telephone calls and seems to have a direct psychic link with Martina's mind. Most of the book hinges on half-arsed theory and second guessing.
Blue exhibits a lack of grammatical proficiency that should have never found its way past the proof-reader. The book is littered with phrases such as "...and it continued wonderful". The flow of prose is hardly liquid, and she occasionally uses unintentionally hilarious descriptions. My favourite is her appraisal of Martina's chances at Wimbledon: "The fast grass courts... demanded legs, which was what Martina didn't have any more". Of course, Blue mentions Martina's lesbianism, but seems to weave in tiny threads of homophobic thought. She writes, "The slap of sneakers on the track... may 'convert' you" and that Judy Nelson was a "throwback" because her love for Martina was not politically motivated. Blue also claims that the argument for in-born sexuality is a "fallacious" one. Oh well, you can console yourself with the fact that "There are lesbians on the tennis circuit. There are, no doubt, lesbians everywhere" and that there is plenty of ice for your Pepsi if you attend major tournaments. She also displays a marked dislike of women who are physically larger, describing how Chris Evert remembers Martina as "a fat girl in a hideous swim-suit", how Billie Jean King was "chubbier than when she strode springily" at Wimbledon, and even calling kd lang "overweight".
Blue's prose is, at times, a little hard to handle. Martina's house in Czechoslovakia is lauded as a "Nazareth of Navratilovity", and American streets were "paved with groceries" but Martina still "half-expected Communists to leap from the darkness". She further attempts to discredit Martina (although I'm sure it's an effort to portray the vulnerable side of the champ) by harping on about her ability to turn on the waterworks, and by siding with Nelson: "'Not even the gay community accepts me," Judy bleated 'because I hurt their hero.'" "Yes." Blue responds "And the hero hurt her."
Sometimes running off at a tangent, Blue
uses dubiously-related anecdotes before dragging her attention back to the
subject: as a result the chronological order is badly displaced. She is however
a fine sports writer, her prowess particularly noticeable in the last three
chapters which lead up to Wimbledon '94: the match statistics are meticulous.
She is far better off sticking to this strand of journalism and should be
advised to desist from trying to romanticise this glorious game and Martina's
private
life.
I sincerely believe that only the die-hard fans
and memorabilia buffs should purchase this hard-cover tome, as its demeanour
is more like that of a grubby paperback.
© Megan Radclyffe 1995-2001
GEORGIANA'S CLOSET
Dale Gunthorp
Virago
Well well ... what an extraordinary
read. I picked up this book expecting a tale of alluring and triumphant people
in North West London that would leave a begrudgingly sour taste. What I
discovered was a vibrant viper's nest of startlingly nefarious characters.
And oh! how I loved it.
Gunthrop's book covers a three month period towards the end of 1989, during
which time Georgiana's clique of friends are introduced, a seemingly tightknit
group who are deigned worthy enough by her to attend her monthly soirees.
Into this group comes Lucy, a mousey little dyke from Dalston in duffle coat and DMs, and secret lover of Lorraine, who has been married to Fiona for some ten years. When Fiona is made aware of Lorraine's betrayal to their relationship, she confronts Lucy. Rather than lose either, Lorraine suggests a friendly little threesome...
Oh but it doesn't stop there.
Friends Midge - an alcoholic academician who was a mentor to every woman
in this troupe - and Chelsey - a languishing but constantly aspiring actress
- are dragged into the maelstrom, becoming infatuated by Lucy's carnal and
savant charm.
Rather peripheral but oddly pivotal characters are also introduded, including
a transexual called Steven-John, a whiny little gossip who was, in a previous
incarnation, Chelsey's lover; and his devoted Ulric, a musician who has been
diagnosed with cancer.
Gunthorp's writing struck me not only for the twisting narrative, but because it is carried along by bitch wit and a caustic passion: there are some scrumptiously venomous exchanges. I was further impressed by the assiduous perception, and depiction, of the incestous nature of a nucleus of lesbian friends. While some of Georgiana's Closet may seem a tad ethereal, the snafu in the lives sketched here makes for an unequivocally scintillating read.
© Megan Radclyffe 1995-2001