Saturday, February 17, 2007

My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up

About a month or two ago, I ran into a review of Stephen Elliot's new book on Salon.com. Ever since I read the article, I've had it in the back of my mind to get ahold of this one. So when I attended the Sex Workers' Art Show and found myself standing at the merchandise table staring at the familiar cover, I thought to myself "What? Stephen Elliot is here? Salon.com indirectly made it into the Sex Workers' Art Show?" I promptly bought the book, sat through an amazing performance by a myriad of unique and beautiful performers and promptly went home and read the book. Since I knew I'd love the book, I was already gushing about it to Elliot when I saw him during break. In fact, gushing is exactly the right word since I don't often allow my butch self to go there in public, let alone in private. And I did. In public.

Now, take a deep breath because we're moving onto the book. Listen, fellow rockstars, this book is amazing. I'm going to copy every reviewer when I call it beautiful and raw and honest, but it's true because it's all that and more. I love it when I know something I'm reading is original. I love lots of books, but when I know it's a break-out, I know I'm in the presence of brilliance. One aspect of Elliot's brilliance is that despite the title (and content), you don't need to enjoy BDSM or even understand why someone would to get the emotion behind what makes this memoir so gorgeous. I mean, we have all loved someone and when we love, it's different from all others. Who knows why some of us need our love to come with floggers and rough hands, but even for those who love differently from us, don't think you will get through this book unchanged.

Stephen Elliot is so honest. He could have written a stunning book about BDSM and leather and left it that. Instead, he writes about scenes (sometimes unfulfilling), slips into bottom headspace taking you with him while he remembers the profound and sad moments of his childhood that unapologetically make him who he is. And there you are. You find yourself in a devastatingly tender and isolated moment in Elliot's childhood when you thought you were safe in the arms of his top. Interestingly, by the end of the book you are in the arms of a safe and loving top.

I think it's so rare and the sign of a true author to take you into an area that can be so uncomfortable and so mystical and make it feel like the easiest transition on earth. It's what the best tops do and Elliot has mastered this through his new book.