Short version:
Y’know all the stuff you already know about sex, all the stuff that you were taught in school or by your parents, or that you figured out yourself using porn, or reddit, or incognito google searches? And when you learnt about it, it was awkward and taboo, and you felt a bit guilty for doing it? This book is all of that knowledge, but without any of the shame that came with learning about it the first time. And that is a beautiful, truly freeing thing.
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Long version:
Overall, this is a very accessible, genuinely enjoyable read that covers a broad range of sexual wellness topics, applicable to all.
The sheer breadth of issues covered does result in many of them being somewhat brushed over, feeling like they were cut short and lacking in detail, however for a book that is intended to be a general, all-around guide to sexual wellness, the choice to cover the topics in this way works effectively.
My main criticism here is that the writing - mainly in regards to syntax, and paragraph structure - isn’t particularly consistent. This seems to me like mainly a fault on the editors’ behalf. From the way she writes, I imagine Chantelle is an incredibly gifted ‘people person’, with whom having an in-person sexology consultation is probably an incredible experience; I imagine she is exceptionally good at talking with her clients. The way she transfers this into writing, however? It doesn’t read well. She uses a combination of extremely colloquial language (e.g. frequently addressing the reader as “babe”), mixed with the occasional inclusion of some rather sophisticated, big words - which are not scientific, sexology related terms, might I add - but rather, mere fancy words that have seemingly been thrown in purely for intellectual flair. The inconsistent inclusion of such language, though, makes for a jarring experience when those words do appear. The other glaring issue with the writing is in regards to its flow of ideas. Chantelle will, fairly frequently, begin a paragraph that is seemingly focused on one particular idea, get a few sentences into it, and then spontaneously change to a different idea, mid-paragraph, with no segue whatsoever. She will then proceed to start her next, completely different paragraph, by picking up again from where she left off halfway through the last paragraph? It’s pretty weird, and I’ve never really read a book before where the author has done this to the level of severity that Chantelle does. Essentially, whilst I think Chantelle is an incredible sexologist, she’s clearly not so practised of a writer, and this is something I feel that her editors should have done a more thorough job of mitigating.
Because of the somewhat juvenile feel that this book ends up possessing, as a result of its at times muddled writing and flow of ideas, I think that it would generally be best suited to a younger audience, such as younger teenagers. In saying that, though, I think that the content of this book is ideal for anyone who is in the early stages of their relationship with their sexuality and sexual wellness, irrelevant of age. I also think that even the most experienced in sexual activity can learn a thing or two from this book; the chapter on consent in particular raises discussion that I think is sorely needed right now, and insights that, despite seeming incredibly basic and self-explanatory, MANY sexually-active people apparently struggle to understand and action. I picked up this book because I was coming off the back of having put my sexual wellness on the back burner for years, due to mental health concerns, and other aspects of my life taking priority. Because of this, I came back to my sexuality feeling out of touch with my sexual self, and needed something to re-ground me back in the basics of sexual wellness, offer advice for how to deal with associated anxiety and shame, and ultimately, remind me of the beauty of sexual expression. This book has been an excellent tool in kickstarting that process for me.