"Love me Little" attempts the dificult task of being funny and it fails. The greater part of the story which is so short as to qualify it as a long short story, is taken up with trying to make the reader laugh and it hardly raised a smile in my case. Perhaps it was more successful with other readers. The main characters are two nubile young poor-little-rich-girl virgins intent on what would be called today "getting laid" and this is so implausible for the fifties in which it was written, that the thought occurs that maybe this is the relfection of what boys were up to and therby making a point that society was operating with deeply entrenched double standards. The point is perhaps reinforced by the writer being a man posing as a fifteen year old girl. The tale might have been more entertaining if it had been more convincing, at least so far as the characters of the girls are concerned. They are extraordinarily precocious in terms of their philosophising and knowledge of literature, which is juxtaposed with their undemanding salacious search for a man at virtually any price. But this is to give salaciousnes sa bad name. The girls and apparently the writer, associate success in popping the proverbial with social success, or gain perhaps the fact that being uncovered iand exposed in that respect is making another comment on social double-standards. If so, the point was no made sufficiently forcibly for me. The novel fails to be pornographic (I am not certain if it was intended to be but it gives the impression of trying to be generally vaguely shocking) and faills to be humourous. To use a word more popular in the fifties than today, the story is faintly but unmistakably smutty, meaning offering cheap thrills for no very good reason other than exactly the cheap thrill of shocking and sensationalisng at a low key level and then tries perhaps to make money ins o doing, and if that is the case, I feel that the author has too many private jokes being utilised in writing this tale but no very good ones to offer his/her reading public. The dreary impression left by the non-adventures of the anti-heroines is that superficiality pays. The male characters are not deserving of pity however, since their idelaism is as hollow as the conversation which keeps everyone moving on. The dingy American materialism which pervades this depressing short story is encapsulated in a smarmy father who idolises the American dream of making money from anything so long as it is money and whose affection for his daughter is restrained enough as not to be scandalous but unctiously devoted enough to be faintly, that word again, smutty.