They have nothing but praise for the woman who rents out her body to be a beast of burden or a machine slave—or even exposes it as a photographer’s model: and no one finds their moral sense outraged by the fact that her employer remunerates her for such services, which are physical services, at that! But it is not legitimate, it is not decent, it is downright sinful, it is not meritorious, it is obscene, sordid, shocking, sacrilegious, if she decides to utilize the most delightful faculties of her body! Does that mean that it is less dignified to make love than to sit typing arrest warrants?”
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Mario shifts back and forth between making a valid point ("Sex work is work and should be treated with the same dignity and respect by society as any other work") and being spectacularly shitty ("I don't respect women who don't prostitute themselves")
This book was so much better when Mario either wasn't present, or the book was actively taking the piss out of him.
