Lezzet Abbott's Reviews > Discovering Leigh.

Gerry broke my virginity; the switch from paperback novel to digital e-book that is. Never ever thought I’d make that switch but when the opportunity arose, I selfishly snatched it! I wanted to write this before the world and its mundane obligations smeared the essence and the aftertaste of this book off my skin. Off my soul. I had no idea. But that is what ignorance ensures; renders you ignorant and I, in my voluntary unfamiliarity thought that BDSM was all bizarre sexual filth without an inch of respect in sight...with blindfolds. Weird stuff that weird people do because they were bullied in childhood, a distorted and dysfunctional pay-back mechanism on some willing innocent to get back at the cruelty inflicted on them because they were born different. In my own ring, I loathe ignorance, I’m an arachnophile and anyone who isn’t willing to learn more about spiders to understand that there is no real reason to be afraid of them, other than limiting beliefs and conditioned mindsets taught and passed down by equally ignorant parents or adults is someone who, when the world is full of information at the touch of a button, is not worth my time. But all things unknown come to light if we just take the time to explore just a little bit more. Gerry sure showed me. Judge not lest though be judged. When the book was initially launched my interest was vaguely piqued but not enough to actually want to go out, buy it or even read it. I was, “Ugh not in the mood for the South African version of 50 Shades of crap thanks,” I’m a late bloomer and don’t ordinarily rush out like everyone else does to be the first eager beaver to get my hands on the latest and greatest of anything. I’m patient and I wait. All good things and all that. Ping. Digress. I read it because it’s Gerry’s book, who I know a little bit about, not because I thought it would be an unexpectedly beautiful imagery-inducing artwork of telling an engaging story.

Never in my wildest vanilla-flavoured thoughts did I believe that the essence and fundamentals of BDSM were so sacred, so beautiful and above all, so deeply respectful. I connected with all the characters in this book, recognising aspects of them in some real-life characters of my own life, both past and present, including myself. I hated Wayne, with every fibre of my being. He was every testosterone-small-man complex induced bouncer and drug dealer I had ever worked with in the steroid and cocaine-fuelled nightclub industry for five years after I left school. Induced terrifying memories. I identified effortlessly with Leigh, her insatiable love affair with her cigarettes, her engaging appetite for photography and the loss of her mother at a young age. Her taste for the finer things a straight-over-my-head non-identifiable trait as I smoked Peter Stuyvesant Red, no refinement whatsoever. But it was Mikey who stole my heart and who I cried for, over and over again. The intelligence and tenderness of his disposition, the unorthodox yet blindly obvious workings of his mind and intellect and his heart-breaking sentiment of invisibility to the world who needed things from him to satisfy their own carnal desires and how he professionally and respectfully obliges, regardless of his under currencies of loneliness and unceremonious victories when the curtains are drawn. I could relate largely to his emotional pains more than any other character.

What hit me the hardest against my head like someone trying to knock some long-needed sense into me was the act of discipline and how necessary an ingredient it is to achieve the things the mind and heart wishes to. How all of who we are is very much to do with the mind and how we choose to control it, to surrender to what is and not fight it, to let go of the bonds we internalize and induce on ourselves. To feel without thinking and to love in simple and perfect trust. A simple notion yet powerful in its intention. It’s not something I find myself having too much of. Discipline that is. It has motivated me powerfully to get my own butt spanked into gear and achieve something I’d like to be proud of one day.

I was moved, immeasurably by a tenderly and gorgeously crafted piece of writing that tackles so many facets of life, especially the misunderstood underworld of BDSM. Facets that will no doubt be identifiable by many a riveted story-lover who will have the pleasure of reading this book in coming days, weeks and years. Gerry writes from the pits of his well-versed soul, binding your hand on the journey with him, making you feel as if you are a first-class voyeur to his attention-to-detail ability to mesmerize the reader and hold them captive firmly in the palm of his hand long after the words ‘The End’ have been read.