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P is For Prostitution: An A - Z of a harsh life survived
P is for Prostitution is a primer unlike any you will have read before, the ABC approach far from simplistic. Through various episodes the author charts her own insights into addiction and the kind of existence that inevitably goes with this. Each letter marks a step on a journey into the lowest circles of hell in which the "author's creativity and intellect is misdirected towards a chaotic, nihilistic and devastating existence" (reader's foreword). There are moments of black comedy, sexual horror, and final, uneasy redemption in which the author reclaims the trajectory of her life. ". . . the life you lived . . . represents the era you grew up in and the position of women in society and the rules they were expected to live by and the consequences of breaking these rules. Women are often regarded as objects, possessions and are expected to be submissive." (Jane Hunt) P is for Prostitution grew out of the author's exploration of death and ancestral cults. It led her to acknowledge her own past, re-connecting and rescuing a catalogue of youthful dead or missing loved ones. "This was no surprise given the way we lived our lives at that time, but was no less saddening. Whilst the people concerned were not blood relatives, they were part of who I was and very much my family of choice in our shared inability or refusal to accept the terms of mainstream existence." "Daddy was an exclamation mark / exploding on blank walls / I was a biblioteque hero / supporting Atlas' balls /Rolling skating on Freudian slips / Pussy footing through the fly leafings/ Of fellow social misfits."
158 pages, Paperback
First published June 21, 2013
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
August 21, 2013
Reviewed by Eric.K.Lerner
Charlotte Rodgers is a visionary artist and writer. Her sculpture combines bones, taxidermy specimens and roadkill with glitter, paint and found objects to create disturbing yet gorgeous contemporary totems. Materials that in the hands of lesser artist merely become shock value bric-a-brac in Rodgers’ become transcendent. One is drawn in by their beauty not their ugliness. She realizes necromantic alchemy through her incorporation and transformation of base materials. Similarly much of her writing has focused on studies of blood-rites and necromancy.
One might suspect she gets asked far too often, “Where do you get your ideas?” In a sense, her autobiography P is for Prostitution: A Modern Primer, strikingly illustrated by Ruth Ramsden, may be viewed as an attempt to answer that. Rodgers herself acknowledges a concern that “Initially I was worried that writing this could be self-indulgence or an exercise in personal exploration and poor man’s psychoanalysis that shouldn’t be put out to a wider audience.” A writer questioning herself when making self-revelation is more than relevant. Nowadays we seem stuck in a mindset in which many seem to think that creating online PowerPoint presentations on their Grand Canyon vacations or appraisals of their lovers’ dick sizes is tantamount to writing the Tao Te Ching. Wasting time and effort on such trivialities, whether as audience or author doesn’t seem all that enriching. But Rodgers’ tome doesn’t fall into such a trite genre. Her recollections both engage the reader in a lucid perspective on the adventures/misadventures of a vital individual navigating a specific epoch in history and coming to terms with herself almost in spite of events.
Rodgers doesn’t engage in proselytizing, apology or blame. She maintains a clear, at times nonchalant voice, while cataloguing what could pose an overwhelming array of personal experiences with subjects such as Bulimia, Inheritance, Prostitution, Overdose, and Rehab. Reading her autobiography proves harrowing, humorous or poignant, but she does not cast events in a manner in which the reader is manipulated into responding in a particular manner.
In deed, I was struck by just how much freedom and respect she grants and demonstrates toward those who want to take part in her journey. (Albeit, there were more than a few times I smiled and thought, “Oh gee, you did that too.”) But on a more serious note, her approach here reminded me of a quote from the film-maker Robert Bresson: “Don’t run after poetry. It penetrates unaided through the joins (ellipses).”
Her choice of a mimicking a dictionary to develop her discourse dialectically illuminates the fragmentary nature of experiences yet establishes their continuity. Time, the span of a life and coming to terms with it, does not unfold in a strict linear context but through an organic, even spiritual, process. Juxtapositions of non-linear narrative segments allow for grace, meditation, and comprehension to occur in the blank spaces that occur between them. The reader finds himself positioned in the open space and becomes absorbed by the dialogue between him and Rodgers. Encouraging the reader to take part in an open exchange actually enables the reader to achieve transformation and enlightenment himself.
P is for Prostitution also exhibits Rodgers’ literary craftsmanship. She incorporates myriad allusions to literature, pop music and culture that range from Don Quixote to Upstairs at Eric’s. These echo in the reader’s imagination and contextualize her tome in the broader spectrum of human experience. Not to mention that she frequently does so in a tongue and cheek manner that prevents the work from descending into emotional morass. Her writing is clear and succinct, creating a lucid perspective on chaotic events.
By avoiding the pratfall of self-indulgence Rodgers may seem to not provide the reader intellectual substance, but it is not the case here. She simply puts the reader in the uneasy position of having to draw connections and make conclusions. She carefully develops the situations in three-dimensional perspective through her sharp powers of observation and even demonstrates compassion and understanding for those who obviously do her harm. Now this approach does not conveniently lend itself to political dictums. If a dialogue is not political, is it spiritual?
Charlotte Rodgers is a visionary artist and writer. Her sculpture combines bones, taxidermy specimens and roadkill with glitter, paint and found objects to create disturbing yet gorgeous contemporary totems. Materials that in the hands of lesser artist merely become shock value bric-a-brac in Rodgers’ become transcendent. One is drawn in by their beauty not their ugliness. She realizes necromantic alchemy through her incorporation and transformation of base materials. Similarly much of her writing has focused on studies of blood-rites and necromancy.
One might suspect she gets asked far too often, “Where do you get your ideas?” In a sense, her autobiography P is for Prostitution: A Modern Primer, strikingly illustrated by Ruth Ramsden, may be viewed as an attempt to answer that. Rodgers herself acknowledges a concern that “Initially I was worried that writing this could be self-indulgence or an exercise in personal exploration and poor man’s psychoanalysis that shouldn’t be put out to a wider audience.” A writer questioning herself when making self-revelation is more than relevant. Nowadays we seem stuck in a mindset in which many seem to think that creating online PowerPoint presentations on their Grand Canyon vacations or appraisals of their lovers’ dick sizes is tantamount to writing the Tao Te Ching. Wasting time and effort on such trivialities, whether as audience or author doesn’t seem all that enriching. But Rodgers’ tome doesn’t fall into such a trite genre. Her recollections both engage the reader in a lucid perspective on the adventures/misadventures of a vital individual navigating a specific epoch in history and coming to terms with herself almost in spite of events.
Rodgers doesn’t engage in proselytizing, apology or blame. She maintains a clear, at times nonchalant voice, while cataloguing what could pose an overwhelming array of personal experiences with subjects such as Bulimia, Inheritance, Prostitution, Overdose, and Rehab. Reading her autobiography proves harrowing, humorous or poignant, but she does not cast events in a manner in which the reader is manipulated into responding in a particular manner.
In deed, I was struck by just how much freedom and respect she grants and demonstrates toward those who want to take part in her journey. (Albeit, there were more than a few times I smiled and thought, “Oh gee, you did that too.”) But on a more serious note, her approach here reminded me of a quote from the film-maker Robert Bresson: “Don’t run after poetry. It penetrates unaided through the joins (ellipses).”
Her choice of a mimicking a dictionary to develop her discourse dialectically illuminates the fragmentary nature of experiences yet establishes their continuity. Time, the span of a life and coming to terms with it, does not unfold in a strict linear context but through an organic, even spiritual, process. Juxtapositions of non-linear narrative segments allow for grace, meditation, and comprehension to occur in the blank spaces that occur between them. The reader finds himself positioned in the open space and becomes absorbed by the dialogue between him and Rodgers. Encouraging the reader to take part in an open exchange actually enables the reader to achieve transformation and enlightenment himself.
P is for Prostitution also exhibits Rodgers’ literary craftsmanship. She incorporates myriad allusions to literature, pop music and culture that range from Don Quixote to Upstairs at Eric’s. These echo in the reader’s imagination and contextualize her tome in the broader spectrum of human experience. Not to mention that she frequently does so in a tongue and cheek manner that prevents the work from descending into emotional morass. Her writing is clear and succinct, creating a lucid perspective on chaotic events.
By avoiding the pratfall of self-indulgence Rodgers may seem to not provide the reader intellectual substance, but it is not the case here. She simply puts the reader in the uneasy position of having to draw connections and make conclusions. She carefully develops the situations in three-dimensional perspective through her sharp powers of observation and even demonstrates compassion and understanding for those who obviously do her harm. Now this approach does not conveniently lend itself to political dictums. If a dialogue is not political, is it spiritual?
Displaying 1 of 1 review