I find myself speechless in trying to review this book. It is about the nature of desire and the relationship between desire and the urban political economy.
I loved it. Then I hated it. Then I loved it. And again hated it. It is an imperfect project but oh so powerful. I'd venture that it is impossible to be indifferent to this book.
He shows me a world I wouldn't otherwise know and shows me a part of myself I am not sure I want to know. So kudos to Delany for this forced immersion into his daily life and theoretical world. I could not put it down and read it in one sitting.
For me the most powerful part of the book is his discussion of the social creation of sexual scarcity. This notion fits well with contemporary work on the social creation of economic scarcity. His ideas here are as radical as Monique Wittig's essay "One is not born a woman." But they unsettle something in me that wants to resist him with full force. If offered a cup of coffee with him, I think I would linger on the decision for some moments.
I often cannot abide the tone of his theoretical forays -- which strike me as weak and deliberately unsystematic. Nor am I convinced that he is a honest narrator. But he is pushing deep, deep buttons in the soft and vicious underbelly of modernity.
A more provocative book I don't think I have read.
I know I am going to read this again. Perhaps then I will have a proper review. Until then....good luck with it.
Meanwhile here are some passages (Julie pushed me here):
Page 89-90, from the first essay:
The encounters you remember are, of course, the men who were a little different, a little strange, the odder denizens of the Venus, this particular cock, that particular smile. Yes, they include the walking wounded, like Rannit. But most of the guys I had at the Capri, day in and day out, year after year (the professional medical companion whose wife had lupus: "So she knows I come here. I think she prefers that to me going with other women -- not that I go into details about it with her"; fat, friendly, uncut Puerto Rican Tony, a Saturday morning regular down at hte Variety for give years; the tree service worker there with his uncle, "'Cause he knew about this place -- and we both like guys"; the tall, rather elegant black man at the Cari who never seemed to do much int he line of sex, but who always lingered standing at the back of the aisle, sometimes chatting with the clutch of black queens who commandeered the seats at the back-left of the orchestra, and who always had some bit of gossip for me when I came in, who always whispered, "stay healthy, now," when I left. Perhaps because of some forgotten bit of conversation I'd overheard him in, years ago, I'd always call him "Eddy," until one day, he looked at me curiously and smiled. "Why do you call me 'Eddie'? That's not my name. I don't mind. But why you always call me that? -- though he wouldn't tell me what his name was when I apologized. "No, you just go on with Eddie. Maybe it's something sexual with you--no problem. Really, its alright." The big, pear-shaped diabetic who always wore dress slacks and a white shirt: "When I got the diabetes, they said I wasn't going to be interested in sex no more. But you and me, we been seeing each other in here, how many years now?" The social worker taking night classes, whose papers I would correct, first in the light of the flickering screen, then, two years later, over the phone: "I'm an exhibitionist, man. I know it. Till I found this place, I used to get in trouble. But I can come in here, stand in the middle of the aisle, facing everybody, jerk off -- and maybe a couple of guys call out, 'Hey, there! Sit down!' That's all. And most of you guys tell me you even get off on it. That's all I am looking for, man") though they tended to be more working-class than not, were pretty much like you, pretty much like me.
From the second essay, page 185-6:
What homosexuality and prostitution represented for my uncle was the untrammeled pursuit of pleasure; and the untrammeled pursuit of pleasure was the opposite of social responsibility...In the words of Bruce Benderson, writing in the Lambda Book Report 12, "The true Eden where all desires are satisfied is red, not green. It is a blood bath of instincts, a gaping maw of orality, and a basin of gushing bodily fluids." Too many had seen "nice ordinary American boys" let loose in some tiny French or German or Italian town where, with the failure of the social contract, there was no longer any law-- and there has seen all too much of that red "Eden"....
The clear and obvious answer) especially to a Catholic Repulican army officer and judge) was that pleasure must be socially doled out in minuscule amounts, tied by rigorous contracts to responsibility. Good people were those who accepted this contractual system. Anyone who rebelled was a prostitute or perversion was working, whether knowingly or not, to unleash precisely those red Edenic forces of desire that could only topple society, destroy all responsibility, and produce a nation of without families, without soldiers, without workers -- indeed, a chaos that itself was no state, for clearly no such space of social turbulence could maintain any but the most feudal state apparatus.
page 187: In order to dismantle such a discourse we must begin with the realization that desire is never "outside all social constraint." Desire may be outside one set of constraints or another; but social constraints are what engender desire; and one way or another, even at its most apparently catastrophic, they contour desire's expression.
page 196-7: Gay urban society early on learned how to overcome the sexual scarcity problem, in a population field where, if anything, scarcity could easily have been greater. Suppose heterosexual society took a lesson from gay society and addressed the problem not through antisex superstructural modifications but through pro-sex infrastructural ones.
Consider a public sex institution, not like the Show World Center that Ben so decries, set up and organized for men, but a rather large number of hostels in many neighborhoods thought the urban are, privately owned and competing to provide the best services, all of which catered to women, renting not by the day but by the hour, where women could bring their sexual partners for a brief one-, two-, three-, four-hour tryst. Such hostels would be equipped with a good security system, surveillance, alarms, and bouncers (as well as birth control material) available for emergency problems....
Some people recognize that in many cities prostitutes (and gay men) have had access to institutions now closer to, now further from, just this model for hundreds of years. In a sense, the only change I am suggesting is to move such institutions from the barely known and secret, from the discourse of the illicit, into the widely known, well-publicized, and generally advertised rhetoric of bourgeois elegance and convenience, promoting them as a sexual service for all women, single, married, gay, or society matron.
Such a social system might actually put a dent in the system of artificial heterosexual scarcity. With the wide establishment and use of such hostels, I can't guarantee that all wolf whistles or catcalls...will fall away from our streets; but I can guarantee that their meaning and their hostile tenor...will change radically, precisely as it becomes common knowledge among straight males that, in this town, you now have a statistically much greater chance of getting laid with a newly met woman (because even if she doesn't want to bond her life to yours forever but just thinks you have a cute butt, a nice smile, and something about you reminds her of a Will Smith or Al Borland or John Goodman, she has somewhere to take you), and that the best way to exploit this situation is probably not to antagonize random women on the street.
From the population problem to the lewd street comment, there are many reasons to promote public heterosexual sex on the model public gay sex has followed for years and, in one form or another, likely to continue to follow. But if we are going to do such a thing, it is only sensible to put its control in the hands of women and set it up for their use and convenience from the start.