Published October 2009 by Seal Press
Canadian sex educator Shannon T. Boodram thought it was about time that someone let young people speak for themselves and tell the truth about their sexual experiences. In Laid: Young People’s Experiences with Sex in an Easy-Access Culture, she presents a collection of essays, poems, stories, and personal writings about sex by young adults, for young adults. Acknowledging that “there is no one-size-fits-all format,” Boodram introduces Laid by speaking directly to her readers—a practice she repeats throughout the text—and letting them know that her goal is “to arm you with the information, hindsight, and confident to pursue an amazing sex life.”
Now that’s a goal I can get on board with!
Boodram presents Laid in five sections designed to represent common young adult experiences with sexuality: “Hookups That Fell Down” (that one’s self-explanatory), “And Then I Saw Stars” (stories of positive sexual experiences), “Haven’t Been Quite Right Since That Night” (physical and emotional consequences of sexual behavior), “When No! Loses All Meaning” (rape), and “Save Your Cherry…Or Banana (about young adults who practice abstinence). Each chapter ends with a Q & A section, with answers provided by the contributors, and a “checkpoint” that serves as a mini-quiz and supports the book’s goal of providing sex-positive education for young people.
If you’ve been reading The Book Lady’s Blog for a while, you’ve probably seen me mention my previous life as a clinical psychology graduate student and sex researcher. I believe in talking about sex and educating young people. I believe in empowering people with information and supporting individuals’ right to make their own decisions about what constitutes appropriate sexual behavior. I believe that the best sex education is the kind that does not imply any value judgments but instead encourages people to combine their personal values with medically accurate information and go from there.
This book has many strengths, but I also saw several weaknesses. I’ve read a lot of books like this, so while I wouldn’t claim to be an expert, I certainly have high expectations and a good idea of what it takes to create solid sex ed materials for teens.
The title of the first section, “Hookups That Fell Down,” kind of says it all. As implied in the title, the pieces are wholly negative and support Boodram’s opening statement that “hooking up is nothing more than settling; it is the microwavable burrito of sex.” Now, I happen to agree with that idea, but those are my personal values, and I don’t think values really belong in what is supposed to be an educational book. Surely, there are some young people who enjoy hooking up occasionally and have had positive experiences with it, and I would have liked to see this section include some pieces by those young people. (Of course, it’s possible that all of the submitters who wrote about hook-ups wrote about negative ones, but still.)
It also irked me that so few of the pieces in this section (and in the book in general) were written by men, and the ones that were written by men all focused on the male writer lamenting his role in contributing to the tarnishing of a woman’s “purity.” One of them actually writes about his regret “for meddling with her wholesome purity,” and that was just too much for me, as was one writer’s meditation on the idea that she would someday be giving her husband “all of my heart but a used body.” I know that many people buy into these ideas, but I find them contradictory to the book’s stated goal of being sex-positive.
I do, however, love that Boodram included pieces in which young people discuss the consequences of their hook-ups because really, teenagers have a hard time thinking about consequences, especially in the heat of the moment, and these stories provide excellent “been there, done that” examples.
The section on positive sexual experiences, entitled “And Then I Saw Stars,” really took me back to the days of raging hormones and throbbing, well, you know. These essays and poems show young people discovering that sex can be a great and wonderful thing, and they delicately explore issues of sexual identity, coming out, and the confusion between love and lust, and those are all great strengths. But there are a few weaknesses….namely, the fact that many of the pieces read like amateur romance novels and actually include the word “johnson” as a euphemism for penis. For real?
Boodram also inserts her personal values into the introduction of this section by reminding readers that “positive sexual experiences are created only through mutual admiration,” and again, I generally agree with the statement (and it’s certainly an author’s prerogative to include something like that), but why the always? Additionally, a few of the pieces in this section seemed like they would have fit more appropriately into the chapter on hookups (like the piece where a guy meets a hot girl on a cruise ship and they get it on), and doesn’t that contradict the previously-stated idea that hookups are generally not positive experiences?
The strengths of this second chapter outweighed the weaknesses for me, but I would have liked to see more editing and less editorializing.
The third chapter, “Haven’t Been Quite Right Since That Night,” which explores the physical and emotional consequences of sex (all of which, in these pieces, happen to be negative) is incredibly candid and actually quite terrifying, though I don’t think that was Boodram’s intent. It covers all the bases—unplanned pregnancy, abortion, STIs—but has very few submissions from men, which just seems to (unintentionally) capitulate to the idea that women are somehow entirely responsible for safe sex practices. However, it also has a very useful glossary of common STIs and sexual illnesses and a reminder (in the form of a girl who gets pregnant her very first time) that YOU HAVE TO USE A CONDOM EVERY TIME!
The chapter on rape, entitled “When No! Loses All Meaning,” is frighteningly realistic, and the writers who submitted pieces demonstrate great strength in telling their stories. The selections in this chapter are very affecting, and they succeed in avoding the all-too-common tendency to blame the victim. This chapter is a must-read for anyone who has experience rape or sexual abuse and anyone who works with survivors. It concludes with a fantastic piece by a young woman who chose to fight back against her attacker, stating “He looked angry but so was I. It was at that time I decided it was either him or me,” and though it was difficult to read, this chapter was very worthwhile.
The final section of the book, given the obnoxiously adolescent title “Save Your Cherry…Or Banana,” presents young people’s discussions of their reasons for practicing abstinence. If you’ve read this review, then you know I’m not a fan of the abstinence-only movement, but I’m happy to say that this chapter did not bother me nearly as much as I expected it to. One young writer muses that “sex gets its value from true love, not the opposite,” and another wins the award for best line with “It’s not my responsibility to make sure that a guy’s penis has a great day.” Sure, some of these pieces are a bit saccharine and sentimental, and I wished that Boodram had opened the book with this chapter and then included a chapter with young people discussing why they chose not to abstain, but overall, it wasn’t bad.
So, the bottom line on Laid? The pieces are candid and realistic, but the book feels unbalanced and skewed toward negative stories. Despite the weaknesses, Laid will be a solid resource for young people who want to hear about their peers’ experiences, and it is an excellent conversation starter, but it should not be used as a primary source of sex education material or viewed as a representative sample. Teen readers will probably relate to the writers’ voices and the nature of their stories better than I did, though I do think the pieces should have been edited more closely. Overall, this one is a 3.5 out of 5.
Full disclosure: I received a review copy of this book from the publisher.
Filed under: Book Reviews | Tagged: Book Reviews, books, essays, laid, nonfiction, reading, sexual health, sexuality, shannon t. boodram | 7 Comments »
In which I get transparent about my blog commenting practices
It seems like every couple months, someone decides it’s time for a new round of blog-related navel gazing, and all of a sudden we’re all talking about commenting. More often than not, this conversation is sparked by a comment left on someone’s blog in which the commentor complains—often anonymously—about the failure of a blogger (or, in some cases, an undefined group of “snobby” bloggers) to respond to all comments, or visit all of their commentors’ blogs, or something like that.
I’ve been fortunate not to have had any of these comments so far (perhaps said commentors determined long ago that I don’t respond to all of my comments and just decided to abandon ship?), and I’ve stayed out of the conversation until now, but the fact that I haven’t received the nasty comments means I don’t have an immediate emotional reaction to them, and I think that puts me in a good position to say what I’m going to say here, even though some of you will unavoidably be offended or take it as evidence that I am just as awful as you always thought I was.
But that’s a risk I’m willing to take because seriously people, I’m getting tired of talking about this, and, quite frankly, I never cease to be surprised that this whole blog commenting thing can be such an emotionally charged issue for some. So I’m going to put it all out there and let you know what you can expect, and I’m only going to say it once. Because really, I do not want to have this conversation again.
The first thing you need to remember: bloggers are not one-size-fits-all, and you as a blog reader cannot reasonably expect all bloggers to handle comments the same way. I know that many of you reading this are also bloggers, and you’ll understand that from experience, but it bears being said. Each of us has our own priorities and limitations, and our blogs reflect that.
Now let’s manage some expectations, okay?
First, the numbers:
Blogs I subscribe to: 250+
Average time spent blogging on a normal day: 30-45 minutes
Average amount of time I get to spend reading blogs on a normal day: 1 hour (if I’m lucky)
Number of blogs I comment on per day: 5-10 (if I’m lucky)
Time spent tweeting/emailing/doing blog-related networking per day: anywhere from 0 minutes to 2 hours, depending on what else is going on in life.
You do the math…this is a realistic depiction of the time I have to blog, read blogs, write comments, respond to comments, and manage other blog-related tasks. I have to prioritize. It is already one of the great ironies of book blogging that the more you blog, the less you read. I don’t want to end up in the situation where I spend all of my time reading blogs and writing comments and none of it reading books or writing about them. A girl’s gotta make these choices.
Not to mention that I have a husband to spend time with, other hobbies to enjoy, friends to hang out with, and nieces and nephews to corrupt
So it’s not that I don’t appreciate your comments. I really, really do. But if I want you to continue enjoying The Book Lady’s Blog, then I need to use my time wisely, and that means reading books and writing about them, right?
What I do:
I respond to comments when I have 1) something to add to the conversation and 2) the time to say it. That second one is really important. My responding to comments should not be taken as a measure of which or whose comments I value most. If it can be used as a measure of anything, it is of how busy (or not) the rest of my life was that day/week/month.
I give all new commentors’ blogs a chance. Just because I didn’t take 30 seconds to type a “me too” or “I agree” to your comment (those add up to quite a lot of time if you think about it), doesn’t mean I ignored it. I put all new commentors who have blogs into a special folder in my Google Reader, and I check those blogs for 2 weeks following the original comment. If the blog hooks me, I keep the subscription. If not, I delete it. There are hundreds and hundreds of book blogs, and I can’t possibly follow all of them. None of us can.
And back to that idea that there’s no one-size-fits-all for bloggers, I don’t expect every blogger whose site I enjoy to enjoy mine, so I don’t expect to enjoy every commentor’s blog, either. That’s just how it is. Not all of our relationships here can be mutually and equally affectionate, and I’m okay with that.
I read a lot of blogs, but I comment on very few. I mean, hello. If I go an entire day without checking my GoogleReader, I will be welcomed by somewhere around 650 new posts (many of the industry blogs I follow post multiple times per day). It’s a good day if I manage to comment on 5 or 10 of those posts. And it’s all because of time and prioritizing. It’s not unusual for me to follow a blog for several weeks or months before I ever leave a comment. And then my commenting will be spotty. It’s spotty even on my very favorite blogs.
I wish I could do more, but believe me when I say I’m doing the best I can.
What I won’t do:
I won’t respond to every comment on my blog. I never have, and I probably never will (barring some unforeseen circumstance in which I end up with tons of extra free time).
I won’t expect every blog I comment on to respond to me (that’s only fair), and
I won’t assume that bloggers who don’t respond to my comments are therefore snobby or haughty or holier than thou. We’re all doing the best we can, and I genuinely believe that most of us have the best of intentions. No one wants to alienate readers or hurt people’s feelings. I hope you’ll extend me the same courtesy.
I won’t follow every blogger who ever comments on my blog. I can’t do it. But I will give every new commentor’s blog the 2-week trial period mentioned above, and I’ll check back in when I can. I’ve discovered some of my favorite blogs through comments left here, and I certainly hope you’ll keep ‘em coming.
I won’t apologize for my commenting practice, and I won’t (usually) respond to accusatory comments about them…..but if I do, you can bet it won’t be to beg for forgiveness. We’re all grown-ups here (well, except for those teenagers who end up here looking for answers to their homework), so let’s act like it and stop leaving nasty comments. I’m tired of seeing them.
Expectations:
You can expect me to READ all of your comments and respond to them whenever I can. When you provide feedback, I take it into consideration even if I don’t respond to your comment. Your comments are a valuable part of what happens on this blog, especially for the conversations they generate between other commentors.
You can expect me to visit your blog after you comment here and to connect with you on Twitter. I often tweet while watching TV, cooking, and taking care of other stuff around the house, and my tweeting time is much more flexible than my blogging time. So let’s talk there instead of obsessing about what happens in the comments.
I expect each blogger to do what works best for him or her, in the context of the constraints on their time, and in balance with their other blog-related tasks. When it comes to things like this, I am truly a live-and-let-live kind of girl.
I expect my readers to understand that blogging is my HOBBY. I don’t get paid for it. I don’t get to cut into my working time to do it. Blogging is cake; comments are icing. It’s great when I have time to attend to them, but how and when that happens is unpredictable and affected by numerous variables.
The big take-home message:
My blog commenting practices are all about me and what works for my life. They are not, in any way, about your value as a person or blogger, and they should not be taken as such.
Despite what a small minority of you seem to believe, there is not some secret book blogger mafia that controls who’s in and who’s out, so comments and responding are not related to that, either. I’ve seen this concept mentioned in several snarky/whiny/woe-is-me comments on other blogs, and really people, it is just utterly preposterous.
Yes, some book blogs are bigger than others (and it seems that everyone has a different opinion on which ones are the big ones), but we all start small. Responding to every comment (or as many as you can reasonably manage) is a great way to grow a blog, but it’s not realistic once the blog really starts growing, at least in my experience as a person who works full-time and squeezes blogging in between a whole lot of other life stuff.
Some bloggers respond to tons of comments, some don’t. You love some blogs, you don’t love others. Some bloggers love your blog, some don’t. That’s just the way of it. You don’t have to like it, but it’s the truth.
So let’s agree on this: I won’t judge you and your commenting practices if you won’t judge me and mine. Let’s agree that we’re all doing the best we can, and let’s remember that. Let’s decide not to take it personally.
And please, for the love of god, let’s remember that in the big scheme of things, what we’re talking about are motherf!@king comments on a motherf!@king blog, and let’s not get so riled up about them.
Filed under: blogging | Tagged: blog commenting practices, blogging, commenting | 55 Comments »