Occasionally, I'm slow to finish a book simply because there's so much I want to say and I can't [yet] be bothered writing it down. First I'll mention that Once More is fast and great fun to read - and this cover is a near-perfect representation of its tone.
But oh god all the stuff I'd intend to say about about sex-positive feminism and whatever happened to it and how a lot of stuff the book says either seems or is different now, twelve years later, because of how broadband changed porn. But I'm not sure anyone's really answered the question of internet and society in any way that is realistic and liberal and accounts for problems. (Simply barring under 18s from the internet, and effectively, would be brilliant in all sorts of ways, but it ain't gonna happen. The age at which I first used the "information superhighway"? 18.)
And the other tangential bit is about semi-nostalgia for The Erotic Review (the late "snoot" British erotica mag, not the rate-a-hooker website) for which Coren and Skelton reviewed porn and which started them on this project. Within the last six months I've read two books by former contributors. The other being Sebastian Horsley's memoir, for which I still haven't managed to construct a coherent review.
Snag which doesn't have to be: I don't have any of my old copies of TER and I have a feeling that it, like the Idler which I've also looked back at this year, would look somewhat different to me these days. "Innocently rather unreconstructed", possibly. Whilst it was interesting enough to buy for several years, I never *entirely* took to it - an interview with former editrix Rowan Pelling highlights why. She says its dynamic was "the flirtatious relationship between young women and middle-aged men"; middle-aged men, and only well-preserved ones at that, didn't interest me in that way until my mid thirties. But middle-aged? Often writers and protagonists were or seemed older, the ethos harked back to mid-century (perhaps reflecting the sort of material those men had stumbled on in their youth, and nostalgia for the same era now covered in primmer terms by Persephone Books). TER content usually seemed to be allied to those smutty short stories that unexpectedly sprung from literary collections when I was a teenager. ('Histoire Vache' by William Boyd is one dredgeable title.) I'd have probably kept them if it weren't for the illustrations. It was when the 'cartoon porn' laws came in in ?2010?; there were several drawings which seemed likely to contravene them. Stuck bits of duct tape over them because you never know. Especially if, for example, putting stuff in storage. But there was something deeply depressing about them now (just as there would have been, being conscious of the possibly underage and now illegal appearance of people in some of those drawings which I'd hardly noticed before. Very few of any of the pictures in TER had ever been any good IMO. The mags had become depressing to look at, and rendered pretty much valueless by my cautiousness. It was only a year or two before they ended up in the recycling. (Duct taped pages to bin though, as they wouldn't be good for the machines, and that's the kind of nerdy recycler I am.)
Coren and Skelton were, as the book's tone recalls, among the younger, sweeter and more innocent-sounding TER contributors. As near as you could get to the polar opposite of Horseley's debauchery and venom without being prudish. And - was this before, or without knowing of, manifestos for it now easily found online - they wanted to make some porn which had a proper storyline and which wasn't exploitative. And in those days you could finance that sort of thing with a publisher's advance.... Unlike most discussion of the ethics of porn, Once More is funny and non-jargony. It's a bit too thick and fast with the jokes at first, like an eager-to-please up-and-coming standup on a Radio 4 panel show, but later there's an excellent balance of jokes with stuff that happened, reflection and so on. It already harks back to a more innocent age when a) more porn actors got paid for what they do because distribution was via video and DVD, and therefore b) concerns like frequent porn watching by kids, and the [magnitude of] controversial porn addiction, barely existed. Infinitely simpler.
Vicar's son Skelton is sweet and frequently gormless, Coren usually the brains of the operation. Given her feelings for one of the actors, and later DavidMitchellthecomediannottheauthor, what I call gormless is something Coren evidently likes very much. Coren and Skelton are an example of that very 90s trope - after all the decade had only been over for a couple of years - the opposite sex friends with sexual tension (cf. Ellen and Adam, most of Friends at various points etc etc). Kind of an annoying trope, but they are real people and tropes are true for some. Whether or not media-world did, I found out soon enough, and many times over, that it's entirely possible for men and women to be friends without sex getting in the way. But I do like Victoria Coren; I may forget to watch Only Connect ever, but anyone who also feels like "a strange mix of old lady and teenage boy" is in some way a kindred spirit.
In part 1, the two head for the USA, in a Louis Theroux-inflected adventure. They know they want nothing to do with Max Hardcore & gonzo porn, and find some of the "right people", veterans, in mainstream porn still a bit creepy (Bill Margold) - and others, especially the women, simply nice (Jane Hamilton, Sharon Mitchell, Nina Hartley, among others). They are BIG fans of Hartley in particular. And there's a great paragraph where Coren finds these fortysomething women inspiring for the way unapologetically have full, exciting lives without being married - her personal idea of fun might be playing poker or staying at home to finish writing a play and demolish several packs of cigarettes. "I felt like Mowgli at the end of the Jungle Book when he finally sees his own species...they are fully dressed, eating at tables, whilst he swings around in a loincloth talking to a panther. They are many, many steps ahead of him. He just senses something familiar." (p.135) Inspired, but not getting anywhere much, they head to Amsterdam to make their own film before the budget slips through their fingers. And oh, is it shambolic, like a big student event, co-ordinating people and money and places and equipment on a budget and things rarely working out as planned. Actors are difficult to find, they pull out at the last minute (not in that way), they get colds. There have to be some compromises because of the budget. Small compromises in ethics but not the sort which mean it isn't a friendly enterprise for all concerned.
The story of one of their actors, a bisexual former-Yugoslav rent boy who feared deportation, was a brilliant and human portrait of the difficulties that some people in porn might have, with positive and negative and inbetween, so much more than you see in the usual arguments. And among the Americans - these in the nicer end of porn - the most commonly cited reason for going into the industry was to rebel against religious parents.
The only dislikeable bit in the whole book was Coren's high-horsing at an agency manager in Amsterdam who'd done an awful lot for them - quibbling about commission levels and going behind her back in ways that might have made sense had she been setting up a permanent rival, but otherwise came off as petty and likely to make things less comfortable for the people who still had to see one another day in day out long after the authors were back in London.
I've reviewed rather serious aspects here - the quotes in updates below give a better sense of how readable and fun, and charming and nice this book is.