A stellar, deep review for Best Women’s Erotica 2008

Image by the extremely talented, ahem, well-named Violent Indigo (no relation!)

I poured my blood, sweat and other precious fluids into editing Best Women’s Erotica 2008, and so far the reviews have been overwhelmingly great. Today, my publisher sent me Erotica Revealed’s in-depth review, and I’m blown away. I feel sort of looked at from the inside, it’s a strange feeling. There is love and sex in it, but the piece by Peony they quoted affected me deeply: I’ll never forget the day I first read it, where I was or even what the quality of light was like in the room, and how it’s so much like my life right now, and long ago, and maybe every lover I’ll ever have. Anyway, that book means a lot to me, and I hope people who care about me get a chance to read it someday. I’m *in* there, if you know what I mean, and I think lots of girls can relate. Snips from the careful, thoughtful review written by Lisabet Sarai:

What do women want? Freud’s perennial question recurs again and again in my wanderings as a reviewer through the thickets of contemporary and classic erotica. Violet Blue’s latest anthology of erotic fiction by women, and presumably for women, offers a possibly surprising answer. Women want the thrill of an anonymous encounter, the sensual high of breaking taboos, the peak experiences of pleasure or pain without the complications of a long-term relationship. Almost all the stories in this excellent volume fall into the category of sublime quickies with near strangers. One might almost call the anthology “erotic non-romance.”

Violet Blue sets the tone with her compelling introduction, “For All the Johnnys.” She begins by telling us that introductions are boring, but then treats us to a smoldering and possibly true account of sharing a lap-dancer with her fuck buddy and maybe-lover, Hacker Boy. “I never saw Johnny again,” she writes, “but I wish I could read this entire book to her.” The tale reeks of alcohol and come, garnished with tattoos and desperation, but it is sexy as hell. (…)

(…) Finally – well, not finally, because I haven’t covered every one of the excellent stories of the book since I want to allow you to discover some by yourself – still, I have to mention the strange and poetic “Lost at Sea,” by Peony. This story is hazy and potent, like a dream; I read it three times and I still wasn’t sure that I understood it all:

“You. A synapse fires inside my head. Somewhere near the surface I can see a faint glow fractured by surface ripples. I must be a long way under. We shouldn’t have. We did. It’s done and cannot be undone. We’re on the other side of that which had grown so large between us, the lust that devoured us, swelled fat from the absurdity of it.”

In a way, this tale echoes the exhilaration and desperation of Violet Blue’s introduction. This is what lust can do, these stories say: strip you naked, rip you open, leave you with scars that you will finger longingly in the future, when your lover of the moment is long gone – remembering. (…read the whole review, no spoilers)