I'm a writer with three novels rereleased on Kindle - hurrah! - and I had a short play performed in 2012. I contribute short stories and essays to anthologies, and am delighted that from September 2014, I'll be running a literary criticism group in London for the Royal Literary Fund. If you're in the city and off on Monday mornings, join. It's free! You can find out more at www.tricyclereaders.com I pay the bills as a communications consultant, which is a really good way of using all the tricks one learns as a writer commercially - research, information sorting, narrative structure, networking and staying on message. I'm also embarking on a fifth novel (my mojo went AWOL in a fit of pique when publishers rejected the fourth) and hoping that I get this one past 30,000 words, which is always the tipping point for me.
There's not a whole lot to say about this book. It is, as the title and subtitle promise, a book about the history of birth control. The author covers the gamut, but ultimately it feels like a pamphlet you would pick up at a clinic - albeit a 157-page pamphlet. The author seems to want to show the reader that it's okay to talk about birth control, and that it can be talked about with levity. Wonderful. Fine.
But, cheese and rice, guys, this was a boring book to read. The details on historical forms of birth control could have been interesting if they weren't just snapshots. Each paragraph is separated by a heading, rather than as a cohesive study. This made it difficult to get into as a full text, and when you just write snippets, it makes me think one doesn't want to do research beyond the superficial level. I mean, we can all do a Wikipedia search if we have questions. But, I suppose, if you don't want "birth control" to show up in your browser's history, by all means go ahead and pick up this book so you can get some education.
Much of the information, however, is stuff learned in basic sex education or health classes. I recognize that there are still pockets in America that don't believe in sexual education, and that's a damn shame, but this book isn't going to reach any of those readers anyway. I had to request a copy from Penn State on the other side of the state as that was the closest availability.
The writing style leaves a lot to be desired. The basic information, the layout, and the structure of the book all lead me to think this was aimed at younger readers, though I can find no evidence that was the author's intention. (I am still putting it on my Goodreads YA bookshelf.) For someone who has no idea what a penis or a vagina is, or that someone (usually the woman) can take measures to prevent pregnancy, this is a good place to start, but I'm sure there is better information out there. I am fairly certain I have seen better information in internet memes, though I don't recommend someone who doesn't know what a vagina is to get their information necessarily from an internet meme.
This book left me feeling uninspired and cold. The humor prevents it from coming across as entirely clinical which I am sure some readers will appreciate, but I would have enjoyed it more if it seemed the author wanted to really discover something in her studies, rather than just popping out this informational pamphlet.
Also, I had a knee-jerk reaction to the part where the author went on and on about the indignity of a gynecological exam. Is it uncomfortable at first, physically and emotionally? Sure. Do we get used to it? Usually. There's this stigma about gynecological exams that they're gross, weird, dirty, whatever, and it causes a lot of women a lot of anxiety. I understand that events may occur leading to a gynecological exam for some that makes them extraordinarily uncomfortable. I tend to look at it very clinically: I want to be sure my yahoo is in tip-top shape, and if it's not, if there's a problem, I want to know about it as soon as possible. I know I may be in the minority about that, but I would like to remove the stigma that a gynecological exam is this terrifying experience that causes some to want to avoid them.
They're super important, ladies. Don't be scared. Have a friend or a family member go with you if that would make you feel better, at least the first time. There's no shame in the exam. No one is laughing at your vagina. Promise.