I actually finished this a few days ago, but needed some time to process it. If you’ve been following my reviews of the Eli series, then you know I’veI actually finished this a few days ago, but needed some time to process it. If you’ve been following my reviews of the Eli series, then you know I’ve talked about the emotional roller coaster that B.J. Frazier & Jessie Spectre have taken us on. It’s been fun and fabulous, often inspiring and sometimes amusing, but there’s been this ominous feeling beneath it all, the dread of a looming confrontation at the end. The story could have sidestepped that darkness, snatched Eli away from the brink, but as much as I silently raged against B.J. and Jessie in reading this, I admire them for sticking to the story and where it had to go.
This final volume is the culmination of Eli’s journey in so many ways. It is an entirely satisfying conclusion in that it wraps up all the outstanding questions and issues, but it’s also a difficult one. Eli is forced to confront the darkness at the heat of Bernie’s plan, the violence that can happen when the rules and ethics of the BDSM power-exchange are discarded, and that went deeper and darker than I expected (or even feared).
It’s hard to say much without spoiling the journey that’s taken us to this point, but emotions are explored, agendas revealed, justifications offered, and excuses thrown up. This book really transforms the entire series, but it’s not so simple as that sounds. Even as we’re forced to confront the darkness beneath the story, B.J. and Jessie confirm that many of the emotions were genuine. So much of what we thought we knew about this world is flipped on its head, which may sounds like a cheat, but it’s not that at all. We’ve been experiencing the story through Eli and Bernie, and Eli’s perceptions are largely shaped by Bernie, so it makes sense that stepping outside them would reveal things we didn’t expect . . . and others for which we could only hope.
There were scenes here that made the squeal with joy (oh, how I wish I could spoil the secret in the basement!), and others that made me thankful for the bravery of friends (even those unexpected). For all the darkness, Eli is loved deeply, and when he needs it most, those who care the deepest are there. You’ll be surprised at who turns up, and even more surprised as how some of them turn up, but it all feels natural. There’s often a tendency to force too much into the end of a series like this, but this feels like a natural end – or, not an end, a transition to a new beginning.
I’m so grateful for being invited to explore this series, and for having the chance to share my impressions with readers. If you’ve been at all curious, then I urge you to give it a chance – you’ll be glad you did.
Wow, what an emotional roller coaster the Eli series by B.J. Frazier & Jessie Spectre has been. Just when I think I have it figured out, when I’m sureWow, what an emotional roller coaster the Eli series by B.J. Frazier & Jessie Spectre has been. Just when I think I have it figured out, when I’m sure I know where it’s going, it throws in a new twist, challenge, or development. Knowing how my heart has swelled for Eli, only to break time and time again, I know what the poor boy must be feeling.
This volume gives Eli some space, distancing himself from everything at home by sending him out of town for the weekend, and that allows him to explore who he is. It’s a very sexy excursion, and one that involves black mesh femboy formal wear, dinner with a porn star, and . . . well, exactly the erotic escapades for which you’d hope.
But then there’s a twist, only we learn it may not be as big of a one as he seems to feel it is, but we have the luxury of not being the ones hurt.
Back home, Eli finds himself wanting to be a better submissive, and struggling to balance the role with the romance, which isn’t easy when he’s keeping secrets of his own from Bernie. Adding to his confusion is an unexpected public confrontation with Zac, his partner at Bernie’s shop, and an awkward session with a dominatrix, whose behavior shows him the difference between a scene and a relationship.
Clem really steps in here, guiding the boy and forcing Bernie to see what’s happening. It’s an interesting dynamic, and she’s a fascinating character – almost motherly at times, and sexually dominant at others. It’s a shame neither listens as well as they should, never mind communicates as well as they should, because it leads to more pain, more damage, and more conflict. It all adds yet another layer of confusion to Bernie’s true intentions, which is the last thing we – or Eli – need.
Speaking of which, the story once again ends on an ominous note, but the good news is all shall be revealed in the final chapter!
Trade Bait is the follow-up to November's Flesh Trade and it's just as crazy and just as confusing as the first - in a gender-bending good way. HavingTrade Bait is the follow-up to November's Flesh Trade and it's just as crazy and just as confusing as the first - in a gender-bending good way. Having fallen for the wealthy woman's scheme, trapped in a woman's body until he agrees to become pregnant and give birth to her chid, Donnie has picked up the pieces of his life and is going on the offensive.
Gender is such a beautiful mess in this book, you really do have to read the first to appreciate it. First there's the body-swap itself, which has Donnie trapped in Marion's female form, Marion trapped in Phil's male form, and Phil happy occupying Donnie's male form. Confusing matters is the fact that Donnie has begun expressing himself as a transman in Marion's body, while Marion has been crossdressing as her feminine self in Phil's male body. To further confuse matters, Donnie and Marion address each other with their true names and genders, even as others refer to their bodies' respective names.
We delve deeper into the mystery in Trade Bait, exploring the history of the family curse that's led to all this confusion, while searching for a way to undo it without stranding one of them in the wrong body. That leads to some rather messy sex-magic that's grossly erotic and shamefully amusing, but the story ends on a cliffhanger before we can know whether it's worked. Taedis further develops another layer in this second book as well, revealing more about Amanda, the woman Donnie loved who triggered the whole mess, leaving us to wonder what she knew and when.
Most definitely not your typical body-swap sexual romp, Trade Bait is a drama, a mystery, and a romance - yes, with it's share of erotica - that will keep you guessing.
A simple introduction to the world of gender, the gender binary, and the myriad spaces in between, She/He/They/Me is as entertaining as it is informatA simple introduction to the world of gender, the gender binary, and the myriad spaces in between, She/He/They/Me is as entertaining as it is informative. Robyn Ryle has chosen a Choose Your Own Adventure approach to the book, which allows readers to not only explore their own particular gender identity, but to learn about the gender possibilities from which it diverges.
My first time through the book, I read it as myself, following my own gender journey - born into a time and place where gender exists, a culture where gender assignment happens at birth, and a culture with 2 genders. It was from there, moving into Chapter 13 where my journey became interesting, with Ryle talking about the shared tissue origins of penises and clitorises, and then offering 3 choices based on the length of genital tissue . . . with my own choice leading to questions of patriarchal versus matriarchal societies.
For, you see, this is not just a book about biological gender and gender roles, but gender constructs, gender expectations, and gender transitions. It is a book about science, biology, psychology, and more. It is a book about society, philosophy, legality, and more.
My next time through the book, I read it specifically as a parent, following the journey dictated by the partnership between my spouse and I. That allowed me to reconcile some of our disagreements, and better understand where they come from. After that, I read it again as myself, but as something of a what-if fantasy, allowing for small changes along the way. A few of those choices led to dead ends, sending me back to the start, but even those journeys were interesting because of what Ryle had to say about societies with infinite genders, or where gender does not exist.
I then read it once more as both myself and a parent, imagining that my spouse and I were completely aligned, and explored the kind of 'perfect' world into which I would have loved to see us born. Bigger changes this time, always looking for the best case scenario, except there I cheated . . . denying the dead ends and instead stepping back to explore the other option.
Ultimately, no matter how you read it, no matter what choices you make, each journey leads to a better understanding of who we are, where we are, and what might lie ahead. The chapters themselves are not particularly deep, with many being little more than a page or two, but the journey gets deeper the farther you follow it. More importantly, the way the book is constructed, She/He/They/Me is possibly even more valuable to friends and family than to those of us questioning or exploring our gender, as it forces us to confront the how and why of contemporary gender.
One of my favorite things about being a book reviewer is that I get to meet so many interesting people, hear their stories, and make a connection. It One of my favorite things about being a book reviewer is that I get to meet so many interesting people, hear their stories, and make a connection. It does not happen with every book, but it is wonderful when it does - as it most certainly did with Skirting Gender: Life and Lessons of a Cross Dresser.
The voice of Vera Wylde captured me from the first page. The more she talked about her life, her identity, and her expression, the more I felt like I knew her, and wanted to know her better. She is one of those new acquaintances I would dearly love to sit down, have dinner with, and talk gender, crossdressing, parenthood, performance and all things geek.
Skirting Gender is one of the most positive, life-affirming explorations of crossdressing and gender-fluidity I have ever read. There is no shame, embarrassment, or guilt. There is no talk of regrets, purging, or gender confusion. Vera is a person comfortable in two genders, someone with twin roles to play, twin personas to explore, who is equally comfortable in both.
What I love about her story is that crossdressing is just a part of who she is, a manner in which she interacts with the world. It is not a stepping stone or a mid-point on some larger journey of transsexuality. There is no sexual aspect to it, no exploration of fetishes or submissive role-playing. It does not have its roots in any sort of abuse, childhood trauma, or humiliation. Crossdressing is simply a welcome, comfortable part of who she is, and that example of self-acceptance and personal identity is one that is sorely missing from such stories. Vera stands tall as an example of what life could be like for a crossdresser in a world without judgment or labels.
That is not to say there is no element of self-reflection to Vera's tale. She does look back on childhood games of dress-up, a homophobic stepfather, and the challenge of buying women's underwear in a small town. She shares alternately touching and humorous stories of her life, including the relief of coming out to her girlfriend, and the anxiety of dressing in public for the first time. She shares those memories, but the question of 'why?' that plagues so many of us has no role in her story, and casts no shadow on her happiness. To touch on the performance aspect, her experiences with drag and burlesque are absolutely fascinating, two very different worlds that she explored for different reasons, finding something unique in each. It may seem odd that is the burlesque community with which she feels most comfortable, despite there being nothing sexual in her crossdressing, but that is part of what is so enlightening about her story.
Along with that biographical aspect, Skirting Gender also has a fantastic section dedicated to Practical Advice, in which Vera shares tips on everything from outfit selection to eyebrow shaping, and another on the Philosophical Aspects of crossdressing, which is perhaps the most intriguing. She talks of how and when to come out to your children, pointing out the "simple fundamental hypocrisy" of telling your kids to be themselves, while hiding your own truths. That really struck a chord, and I loved how she talked of normalizing it, of letting her daughter watch the process, making it clear that Vera is still daddy.
She also shares a wonderful "life-changing" celebrity encounter with Tim Curry, which was the first time he shared her birth-name with someone while presenting as feminine or gender fluid. She talks of no longer feeling "the rigid separation of a name" and of how the two aspects of her life "snapped together" allowing her to "feel a sense of joy and pride" in herself, not "as a persona or a performer or a model." It is after that, catching us up to the present, that she talks of allowing the dividing wall between masculine and feminine to fall into disrepair, and even getting a testosterone blocker prescribed to get her "default setting to be something close to a proper neutral" and make the effort to be decidedly masculine or feminine an equal effort. Rather than come across as a betrayal of her identity as a crossdresser, it feels more like the final step in self-acceptance, embracing Vera as fully half of herself, and not just a costume or a performance role.
With this being #TransAwarenessWeek, Vera could not possibly have come to me at a better time with Skirting Gender: Life and Lessons of a Cross Dresser. I fully intend to pick up a copy of the paperback and add it to my lending library of titles I use to help friends and family understand who we truly are inside.
Can I call this a romantic work of historical sci-fi erotic fantasy? Is that cramming too many genres into a blurb? What the heck, I can, and I am. BlCan I call this a romantic work of historical sci-fi erotic fantasy? Is that cramming too many genres into a blurb? What the heck, I can, and I am. Black Carnival was actually Katherine Wyvern's debut novel, but it feels like the polished work of a published professional.
I have been trying to wrap my head around a review of this for a couple of weeks now, looking for that perfect balance between teaser and spoiler. So much of this book is about discovery - for both Ivory Blake and the reader - that I am almost paranoid about giving too much away. So, let me instead approach this from a more holistic view.
The Black Carnival is a famously hedonistic celebration that takes place in the city of NeuVenedig, on the planet of Cydonia. If that throws you off or threatens to take you outside your comfort zone, rest assured that this is not some jargon-heavy, absurdly alien piece of science fiction. Yes, there are some sci-fi elements to it, but they are subtle, well-defined, and more about setting the stage and framing the core romance than defining the story. In fact, once you make planet-fall with Ivory, you will find yourself happily lost in the history, the grandeur, and the splendor of old Venice. NeuVenedig is not just a setting here, a geographical place, it is almost a character - it has a life and an energy all its own, one that makes the reader feel as if they have truly escaped to somewhere magical.
The characters here are wonderful as well - real people with pasts, backstories, emotions, personalities, and more. Ivory and Lukan are, naturally, the main attraction, but there are so many others who cross their orbit, and Wyvern makes each and every one of them feel like somebody who could walk off the page and have a story of their own. That is a large part of why the hedonistic celebration of sex is as delightful as it is varied. There is a myriad of fantasies explored here, not all of which will be to every reader's taste, but there is a humanity . . . a sensuality . . . a relevance to each scene, such that we can enjoy the diversity for sake of the characters, even if not our own.
A few last words on Black Carnival. This is not a traditional happily-ever-after fairy-tale romance, and yet it is not merely a fetishistic extravaganza of eroticism either. There is very much romance at its core, a relationship that is tested and defined, with genuine uncertainty, jealousy, and sorrow. It is those darker, more poignant emotions that give the story such life, providing shades of contrast and layers of definition to the joys of the moment.
Oh my. I have no words. Having finished No Man of Woman Born I fear I may be hopelessly infatuated with Ana Mardoll's voice and vision. This was such Oh my. I have no words. Having finished No Man of Woman Born I fear I may be hopelessly infatuated with Ana Mardoll's voice and vision. This was such a beautiful, powerful, and necessary collection. I am envious, jealous even, of a generation that gets to grow up reading empowering, inclusive stories like this alongside their mass-market fantasies.
What Mardoll offers here are familiar fantasy tales of sacrifice, vengeance, justice, and love. They are simple stories, a mix of fairy tale, fable, and fantasy, which follow the genre conventions we all know and love. Some of them are explicitly about gender, with pivotal questions of identity and expression. These are the stories that follow the prophecy from which the collection gets its name, where 'no man of woman born' is subverted in some clever and entertaining ways.
That said, there are no traps or surprises here, no big reveals designed to shock or titillate the reader. There is one story - a sword in the stone story - where the reveal of gender is done publicly and proudly, but it a moment of empowerment, of claiming one's destiny. There is also a story - a dragon sacrifice story - that is all about the wishing for one's true gender identity, but for all its very public spectacle, what exactly the wish changed, if anything, remains a very private thing.
It is the other stories that I think are even more important, however. They are the stories that are not about gender, but where the characters exist in a world where nonbinary genders are simply accepted without question, without comment, without hatred, and without ridicule. More importantly, they are accepted as a state of being, as a defined gender, and not some confusing phase of transition. There is no expectation that these characters ever were or will become binary. These are the stories where, if not for the gender-neutral pronouns, most readers likely would not have picked up on the gender aspect.
There are also stories here that straddle those two extremes, suitably non-binary stories of non-binary storytelling. There is one in particular that I just loved - a Sleeping Beauty style fairy tale - where the entire castle knows the protagonist has boy days and girl days, and where that duality of gender is the key to circumventing the fairy's curse.
Gender aspects aside, I would be woefully remiss if I did not call out the storytelling of Mardoll. These stories in No Man of Woman Born flow so beautifully, are so wonderfully readable, that it is almost too easy to overlook the polished sense of style. The writing is as beautiful as the sentiments it conveys, and I will never stop recommending this to friends.
You only have to read the first two chapters of Spice & Vanilla to know that this is not your typical erotic romance. Within the space of just a few sYou only have to read the first two chapters of Spice & Vanilla to know that this is not your typical erotic romance. Within the space of just a few short pages, Katherine Wyvern introduces us to four characters (in three bodies), moving effortlessly from a melancholy meeting with a late-night busker, to the scene of a damaged woman who can barely drag herself out of bed, to an oddly romantic encounter of spanking and domination, set to a classical piano concerto.
I loved the fluidity of this, my second literary dance with Katherine, and the way she so deliberately establishes such contrasts - which, ironically, serve to blur the lines between characters. Scars are an important part of the story, both physical and emotional, serving as reminders of pain best forgotten, or as punishment so sweetly craved. It is gender, however, that she so deftly explores, interweaving themes of identity, expression, sexuality, and acceptance.
Although we, as readers, know that Raphael and Lucie are one and the same, it is not until the halfway mark that she chooses to reveal herself to Di, leading to an altogether different exploration of scars and pain. Having had his female side rejected by the woman he loves, and discarded as a sissy fetish by the man he loves, Raphael purges all evidence of Lucie from his life and slides into a deep depression. It hurt reading those scenes, with Hugh's dismissal hitting me the hardest. Casual readers may not understand the gender dynamics enough to really appreciate it, and others may bristle at how even those who love us can so wholly misunderstand, but Katherine manages to speak volumes about how we see, accept, and appreciate gender, without overwhelming it with any sort of narrative commentary.
I will say no more about the story itself, except to assure you that this is an erotic romance, and our hearts are intended to soar, not break, by the end. That tipping point of pain and rejection is crucial to moving the story forward, and actually serves to lead to an ever great, more significant exploration of gender and love. The characters here are absolutely wonderful, the use of music is delightful, and the slow reveal of secrets, memories, and pasts helps to give it all depth and resonance. As the title suggests, this is equal parts Spice & Vanilla, and those dual elements only work so well because Katherine understands, appreciates, and embraces them both.
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