Everyone gets all high and mighty about French erotica, but I bet they’ve never read this before. Anne Rice WHO? I only know Alain Robbe-Grillet. There’s a reason this book was originally sold shrink-wrapped. 

This is just a scary, bloody porn book about a man who has the most intensely incestual relationship with his daughter. They get into a bunch of shenanigans, except all of the shenanigans involve watching teenage girls getting burned or beaten or boinked. There’s some peeing, and… a lot of… other stuff I can’t describe. 😐

Actually, I could tell that there was something more substantial lurking under the endless descriptions of sexual torture, but I’m not going to analyze it here because I don’t think anyone should read this. Even so, I can’t pretend like there weren’t moments of intense irony bordering on satire. I did find myself enjoying it at times, and the book was written in a cold, exacting way that made it easier for the reader to disassociate… “Putting Sade back on the bookshelf,” huh…? Yeah, sure… I don’t really think there is enough thoughtful substance for most people to find value in trudging through all the traumatic scenes involving babies.

This book… made me feel nauseous… I need to go pray to God or something…