There is a strange paradox at the heart of Sean Grahame-Smith's Big Book of Porn : it's author doesn't actually seem to like his subject matter all that much.
By this I don't mean that he's sneaking in an anti-porn agenda. Far from it, his stated aim is to of overcoming the puritan legacy revealed by Janet Jackson's Superbowl 2004 'wardrobe malfunction' and provide "a tool for turning frightened pornophobes into proud pornophiles" (p. 8). Rather, it is that his definition of what makes for good porn is likely somewhat different from the majority of its viewers/users, especially today.
Specifically, Grahame-Smith isn't particularly interested in the sex aspect, instead celebrating those films, of the 1972-1984 Golden Age in particular, that sought to be something more: "I don't love these films [the 20 profiled include The Opening of Misty Beethoven , The Dancers , Alice in Wonderland and Blonde Ambition ] for the great sex. If you're looking for wall-to-wall grinding, you're looking in the wrong decades. In fact, the sex in many of these is movies is, well, pretty awful. Nay, my friends of filth, I love these pornos because they wanted to be more than pornos." (p. 38).
Concomitantly, the majority of contemporary pornos are dismissed out of hand: "Most of today's pornos have the artistic content of a septic tank… [Only] a handful of contemporary films cling to the notion that pornos can be erotic and entertaining at the same time. They aspire to create bigger, better, more creative smut – complete with plots and production values. And while they don't always succeed, you have to give them credit for trying." (p. 74)
Nor does the author have much of a liking for contemporary porn starlets: "Today most porn starlets are judged by the size of their implants, their number of tattoos, and their willingness to test the elasticity of their orifices. But the ladies of classic porn were different. They came from a time when sexuality and talent counted just as much as looks… Unlike most of the perfectly sculpted, empty-headed babes that took their place, these ten actresses [including Annette Haven, Juliet Anderson and Seka] could deliver the goods whether their clothes were on or off." (p. 88)
Consequently the overall impression one gets is of a compromise between two different agendas, Grahame-Smith preferring to write about his Golden Age favourites and his publishers, Quirk, wanting something more contemporary.
This sense emerges, for instance, in the brief section on "Ladies in Waiting" – i.e. the prospective heirs to Jenna Jameson's position as queen of porn – with one getting the impression that the profiles of Tera Patrick, Devon and Jessie Jane were included more to provide some extra contemporary glamour than anything else; certainly it will be interesting to see what happens, given the fickle nature of an industry that thrives on new talent, where Jesse Jane – for instance – has gone from nothing to a "one woman industry" (p. 121) in the space of one year.
Given Grahame-Smith's general dismissal of the contemporary scene and near total elision of the period c.1985-2000 – not to mention the sheer quantity and diversity of porn out there; more than any one person could ever want to or aspire to actually view – the book inevitably falls short of giving the reader "everything there was to know about dirty movies" (p. 9) as the author claims in his introduction.
With this proviso The Big Book of Porn nevertheless provides a decent overview of its history, sub-genres, terminology and some of its personalities.
Again, however, it is likely that readers who want to go further – say, into the impact of America's "godfather of porn", Reuben Sturman, or the minutiae of the form's development in the US from the beaver film of 1968 through to 1972's Deep Throat – will want to look elsewhere.
Where the book really succeeds is in its readability. As the above quotes hopefully convey, Grahame-Smith has an entertaining, easy-going style and is a very humorous writer. My own favourite was his discussion of the gonzo subgenre: "I know what you're thinking: There was always something strange about that Muppet. The one with the phallic, felt-covered nose and a proclivity for chasing after chickens…" (p. 133)
It also looks good, printed in full colour on glossy paper and attractively designed. Mention must also be made of the numerous beautiful poster reproductions, including Female Athletes , The Bite ( with the tagline "It puts a big Sting into sex" in case the illustration's reference point was somehow missed) and Babylon Pink .
Above all, however, The Big Book of Porn manages to firmly establish the significance of porn within contemporary US cultural landscape. While the merging of porn and mainstream Hollywood dreamt of by some in the heady days of the 1970s "porno chic" boom may not have come to pass, Grahame-Smith indicates that a two-way traffic of ideas and influences is there, even if the mainstream generally chooses not to acknowledge this. Likewise, the significance of porn as a driving force for new technology, whether this be photography, cinema and video historically or the internet and DVD today is clearly illustrated.
In sum, The Big Book of Porn is necessarily compromised and less than definitive, but is an entertaining read, serves as a reasonable introduction to the subject and meets at least some of its author's goals in establishing that there really isn't any reason to be afraid of or ashamed about its subject.
Copyright © K H Brown 2002-2005
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