For three years, I was consumed by pornography. No, I wasn't addicted to the imagery; there were no marathon spank sessions, no cyberstalking of favorite performers. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm a heterosexual male, I love the naked female form, and, yes, I like porn. But my obsession had to do with the technical aspects of the business—the equipment, the financing, the transition from the home video market to the internet, and the basic psychology and motivations of the performers.
The reason for my obsession was my would be first novel, a Spalding Gray style Monster-in-the-Box that has taken on a life of its own and currently hates me. But all of this for another time and maybe a column on how to not write your first novel. What I encountered instead was a frank, at times extremely funny exploration of a woman very comfortable with herself as a sexual being who possesses zero shame or regret about being a part of the adult industry.
She crafts chapters as diary entries, letters to her mother, and slightly obscene haiku, and yet none of these devices seem out of place or contrived.
Yes, Akira actually knows how to write and hold the reader's attention. But my biggest take away from Insatiable is Akira understands the true value of her work to herself and her audience, and what a rarity it is to actually love your job. Yes, just like any business, there is the pettiness of certain co-workers, the at times overwhelming demands of bosses, and the pestering complaints or in her case, the pervy adoration of her customers.
There is no exploitation, no victimization, or woe is me platitudes of why she works in the sex industry. Keith Rawson is a little-known pulp writer whose short fiction, poetry, essays, reviews, and interviews have been widely published both online and in print. He lives in Southern Arizona with his wife and daughter.
