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Sex at Dawn
Sex at Dawn: How We Mate, Why We Stray, and What it Means for Modern Relationships.
A controversial, idea-driven book that challenges everything you (think you) know about sex, monogamy, marriage, and family.
A controversial, idea-driven book that challenges everything you (think you) know about sex, monogamy, marriage, and family.
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Published September 3, 2013
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391 people want to read
About the author
Christopher Ryan
113 books17 followersLibrarian's note: There is more than one author on Goodreads with this name.
For Christopher Ryan, PhD and author of Sex at Dawn, see Christopher Ryan.
For Christopher Ryan, PhD and author of Sex at Dawn, see Christopher Ryan.
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Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
June 18, 2025
‘How about I toss a bit of sex into the mix for a change,’ I thought when I saw Sex at Dawn: How We Mate, Why We Stray, and What it Means for Modern Relationships among my recommendations on Everand. It was a random pick, made without any due diligence. The beginning was promising—a light, casually witty read about the sex lives of our prehistoric forebears and their implications for modern relationships.
Regrettably, the book is based on weak, sometimes even faulty arguments, which are poorly concealed beneath jocular prose. Deceptively packaged as ‘popular science’, Sex at Dawn is anything but scientific—a fact that becomes glaringly obvious quite early on.
The Central Argument
In their 2010 bestseller, Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá challenge conventional ideas about human sexual behaviour, particularly the assumption that monogamy is natural or biologically hard-wired. They argue that pre-agricultural hunter-gatherer societies were largely non-monogamous, and that human sexuality evolved in a context of shared resources, including sexual partners. According to the authors, pair-bonding, sexual jealousy, and a male concern with paternity certainty are not naturally part of human sexuality but rather the product of social arrangements arising from the emergence of agriculture only about 10,000 years ago.
In short, they propose that human beings are not predisposed to lifelong monogamy. Instead, our ancestors evolved in sexually open, egalitarian environments, and many contemporary relationship issues arise from attempting to force-fit this evolved psychology into rigid modern frameworks.
They write:
‘If the independent, isolated nuclear family unit is, in fact, the structure into which human beings most naturally configure themselves, why do contemporary societies and religions find it necessary to prop it up with tax breaks and supportive legislation while fiercely defending it from same-sex couples and others proposing to marry in supposedly “non-traditional” ways? One wonders, in fact, why marriage is a legal issue at all—apart from its relevance to immigration and property laws. Why would something so integral to human nature require such vigilant legal protection?’
Key Concepts:
• Prehistoric promiscuity: The authors suggest that early humans engaged in multi-male/multi-female mating systems, not unlike those of bonobos.
• Sex as social glue: Sexual activity served not only reproduction but also social bonding, conflict resolution, and cohesion.
• Mismatch theory: They posit that many modern relationship struggles arise from the dissonance between our evolved sexual psychology and the constraints of contemporary monogamy.
• Critique of the ‘standard narrative’: The traditional view—that men are promiscuous and women monogamous by nature—is challenged; the authors argue that female sexuality is far more complex.
• Modern implications: Although they stop short of openly advocating non-monogamy, the authors propose that a better understanding of our evolutionary past could inform more realistic, compassionate models of modern relationships, such as polyamory and open marriages.
Although I wholeheartedly agree that female sexuality is more dynamic and complex than traditionally acknowledged (and may never come fully to light while women must mould it to survive in male-dominated societies), I find many of the book’s anthropological illustrations deeply problematic.
This is a pity because, to quote from Sex at Dawn:
‘Societies in which women have lots of autonomy and authority tend to be decidedly male-friendly, relaxed, tolerant, and plenty sexy. ... As with bonobos, where female coalitions are the ultimate social authority and individual females need not fear the larger males, human societies in which women are “sassy and confident,” as Barnes described the Mosuo girls—free to express their minds and sexuality without fear of shame or persecution—tend to be far more comfortable places for most men than societies ruled by a male elite.’
Yet their views are sharply contrasted with evidence suggesting that prehistoric females often engaged in transactional sexual relationships—consciously or otherwise—for protection and resources. The authors reductively summarise Darwin as having claimed that our ‘mothers were whores’, which they refute:
‘If human sexuality developed primarily as a bonding mechanism in interdependent bands where paternity certainty was a non-issue, then the standard narrative of human sexual evolution is toast. The anachronistic presumption that women have always bartered their sexual favors to individual men in return for help with child care, food, protection, and the rest of it collapses upon contact with the many societies where women feel no need to negotiate such deals.’
Sex at Dawn addresses male parental investment, female sexual receptivity, sperm competition, and partible paternity (which defuses potential conflicts among men). It also describes our differences and similarities with other primate species—chimpanzees, bonobos, gorillas, and orang-utans (the great apes) on the one hand, and gibbons (lesser apes) on the other.
In some respects, Sex at Dawn reminded me of Richard O. Prum’s The Evolution of Beauty: How Darwin’s Forgotten Theory of Mate Choice Shapes the Animal World—And Us (2017) (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), which I read in 2018 and which still remains one of my favourite books. It also echoes ideas proposed by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy in Mother Nature: Maternal Instincts and How They Shape the Human Species (2000) (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), another favourite of mine. However, the similarities remain superficial, as The Evolution of Beauty and Mother Nature are wonderful, while Sex at Dawn is inconsistent, shallow, and whimsical.
Problematic Examples
The book cites numerous tribal societies to argue that non-monogamy is normative and functional. For instance, among the Aché, an indigenous hunter-gatherer people of Paraguay, a woman may seek sexual contributions from multiple men, each of whom is believed to impart an essence to the developing child. Fathers are categorised accordingly: the man who deposited the semen, those who mixed it, those who contributed partially, and those who provided the child’s essence. Up to 70 per cent of Amazonian cultures are thought to have believed in the principle of partible paternity—a cultural conceptualisation in which a child is understood to have more than one father due to the belief that pregnancy results cumulatively from multiple acts of sexual intercourse. This often results in the child being nurtured by multiple fathers in a form of polyandric relationship to the mother.
The authors explain:
‘Recognised as a way to build and maintain a network of mutually beneficial relationships, non-reproductive sex no longer requires special explanations. … Paternity certainty, far from being the universal and overriding obsession of all men everywhere and always, as the standard narrative insists, was likely a nonissue to men who lived before agriculture and resulting concerns with passing property through lines of paternal descent.’
In another example, the authors describe how, among the Matis people, an indigenous hunter-gatherer people of Brazil, marriage is fluid—‘moving two hammocks close together’—and doesn't preclude additional sexual partners. Matis women enjoy a degree of freedom in choosing sexual partners, even while in a relationship. The concept of plural paternity is prevalent. However, the Matis don’t stop there, as married or not, one has a moral duty to respond to the sexual advances of opposite-sex cross-cousins (real or classificatory), under pain of being labelled ‘stingy of one’s genitals’—a breach of Matis ethics far more serious than plain infidelity. One young man reportedly cowered in the anthropologist’s hut for hours, hiding from his horny cousin, whose advances he could not legitimately reject if she tracked him down. Even more serious, during Matis tattooing festivals, having sex with one's customary partner(s) is expressly forbidden—under threat of extreme punishment, even death.
While these beliefs may reflect cultural variation in ideas of paternity, the use of such examples by the authors often glosses over coercive or exploitative aspects of these practices. In Canela society, for instance, a bride-to-be is expected to engage in sequential sex with fifteen to twenty men as a form of premarital service. In Sex At Dawn, the authors merely mention this to further their arguments:
‘Anthropologist William Crocker is convinced that Canela husbands are not jealous, writing, “Whether or not Canela husbands are telling the truth about not minding, they join with other members in encouraging their wives to honor the custom ... (of) ritual sex with twenty or more men during all-community ceremonies.” Now, anyone who can pretend not to be jealous as his wife has sex with twenty or more men is someone you do not want to meet across a poker table.’
However, Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá fail to mention how the same anthropologist also writes: ‘If she does not, a group of men will waylay her to teach her to be generous.’ (Crocker, William H., ‘Canela Marriage: Factors in Change’, in Marriage Practices in Lowland South America, ed. Kenneth M. Kensinger, Illinois Studies in Anthropology, no. 14 (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press))
From a contemporary feminist viewpoint, this is neither liberating nor egalitarian—it is abusive.
Likewise, in the Muria tribe of central India, the ghotul system encourages adolescent sexual experimentation. However, once adolescent girls and boys leave the ghotul, they must marry partners chosen by their fathers when they were still children, with girls moving away from their community to their husband’s village. Whatever sexual freedom they may experience is short-lived and followed by a rigidly monogamous and heavily patriarchal life. Within the ghotul, it is all fun and games, but once outside, reality hits hard—especially girls. (*)
These examples, far from illustrating non-coercive non-monogamy, reflect deeply patriarchal structures with troubling implications for women (as well as some men).
The Mosuo of south-western China, often described as a matrilineal and matrilocal society, present an interesting contrast. In Mosuo culture, women control property, lineage is traced through the female line, and sexual relationships occur through a practice called ‘walking marriages’. Men and women do not live together; instead, partners visit each other at night and return to their maternal homes by morning. These relationships are consensual and not bound by formal marriage or cohabitation. Importantly, children remain in their mother’s household and are raised communally, with uncles often playing the paternal role. While not utopian, Mosuo practices represent one of the few well-documented systems where female autonomy and non-monogamous relationships coexist in a relatively egalitarian social structure (and a rather comfortable place for men too).
Broader Reflections
Although Sex at Dawn seeks to challenge the monogamy myth, its selective use of data and cherry-picked portrayal of tribal practices undermine its thesis. Nevertheless, the book raises valid questions: Are men and women inherently sexually incompatible? (The authors argue they are compatible.) Is the nuclear family a natural human unit or a cultural imposition? (Again, the authors suggest it is the latter.)
I find myself in agreement with Marvin Harris, who wrote:
‘Like all dominant groups, men seek to promote an image of their subordinate’s nature that contributes to the preservation of the status quo.’
In all the forms of relationship discussed (save for the matrilineal and matrilocal Mosuo of China), women appear to be adapting to male power structures—be it through coerced monogamy or culturally mandated sexual generosity.
Oscar Wilde said, ‘Everything in the world is about sex—except sex. Sex is about power.’ In a male-powered world, women have had no recourse but to trust the empowered. If sex is an exchange of trust, I agree with Ryan and Jethá that a relaxation of moralistic codes might make sexual satisfaction more accessible and less fraught.
What if women had full material and social autonomy? Without financial dependency or societal expectations shaping their decisions, what kinds of relationships might they pursue? Would they favor committed monogamy, casual arrangements, or something else entirely? Lifelong bonds or fluid, evolving connections? One deeply engaged father or several contributing partners, as among the Aché of Paraguay? How might they respond to men’s variety-seeking tendencies—or other typically male proclivities? With tolerance, indifference, or by rewriting the rules altogether? And how, in turn, would men respond—if, for the first time in history, they had to engage with women who were truly free and entirely equal?
Given the immense variety of human relationships across time and culture—and the full spectrum of desires and dispositions in both women and men—it seems safe to say: different strokes for different folks. And what a wonderful world that could be.
Final Thoughts
Sex at Dawn was widely criticised by academics and responded to in Lynn Saxon’s 2012 Sex at Dusk: Lifting the Shiny Wrapping from Sex at Dawn, which counters many of its claims, exposing not only many of its errors and omissions, as well as its intentional mistreatment of the ‘evidence’, but also an ideological agenda hidden behind the ‘science’. According to Saxon, sexual jealousy is universal, female selectiveness is significant, and anatomical evidence (e.g. penis and testes size) does not support high levels of sperm competition. Moreover, she argues that promiscuous mating does not allow for the evolution of human social structures as observed across human populations, or the evolution of the equally cross-cultural trait of relatively strong paternal investment. It is true that paternal uncertainty increases the chances of offspring survival in some primate species through reducing the risk of infanticide by males (and is therefore often the female strategy of choice to protect their young). Having said that, not killing an infant and directly investing one’s resources to further their development are not the same thing.
In conclusion, Sex at Dawn is a provocative and engaging book, but its arguments collapse under even slightest scrutiny. Its use of cultural examples is often careless, and its scientific foundation tenuous. Still, it opens up important conversations about the nature of human relationships, and for that, it is worth reading—with scepticism firmly in place.
(*) Michael Yorke, The Muria, YouTube, [video], 1981, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqaEU... (accessed 18 June 2025). This short documentary, filmed in the Bastar region of Chhattisgarh for the BBC Ethnographic Unit, offers a glimpse into Muria tribal life as it appeared in the early 1980s. Since then, the situation has changed significantly. According to available newspaper articles, over a decade ago, many Muria tribals fled the Dandakaranya region amid conflict between left-wing extremist groups and the Indian government, resettling in the reserve forests of Andhra Pradesh. There, access to primary education, clean drinking water, and social welfare remains limited, and the threat of displacement continues (‘Muria tribe settlement in Chukkalapadu: Lost in the woods’, The Hindu, https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/... (accessed 18 June 2025). I haven’t been able to find any recent information about whether their traditional practices are still being followed.
Regrettably, the book is based on weak, sometimes even faulty arguments, which are poorly concealed beneath jocular prose. Deceptively packaged as ‘popular science’, Sex at Dawn is anything but scientific—a fact that becomes glaringly obvious quite early on.
The Central Argument
In their 2010 bestseller, Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá challenge conventional ideas about human sexual behaviour, particularly the assumption that monogamy is natural or biologically hard-wired. They argue that pre-agricultural hunter-gatherer societies were largely non-monogamous, and that human sexuality evolved in a context of shared resources, including sexual partners. According to the authors, pair-bonding, sexual jealousy, and a male concern with paternity certainty are not naturally part of human sexuality but rather the product of social arrangements arising from the emergence of agriculture only about 10,000 years ago.
In short, they propose that human beings are not predisposed to lifelong monogamy. Instead, our ancestors evolved in sexually open, egalitarian environments, and many contemporary relationship issues arise from attempting to force-fit this evolved psychology into rigid modern frameworks.
They write:
‘If the independent, isolated nuclear family unit is, in fact, the structure into which human beings most naturally configure themselves, why do contemporary societies and religions find it necessary to prop it up with tax breaks and supportive legislation while fiercely defending it from same-sex couples and others proposing to marry in supposedly “non-traditional” ways? One wonders, in fact, why marriage is a legal issue at all—apart from its relevance to immigration and property laws. Why would something so integral to human nature require such vigilant legal protection?’
Key Concepts:
• Prehistoric promiscuity: The authors suggest that early humans engaged in multi-male/multi-female mating systems, not unlike those of bonobos.
• Sex as social glue: Sexual activity served not only reproduction but also social bonding, conflict resolution, and cohesion.
• Mismatch theory: They posit that many modern relationship struggles arise from the dissonance between our evolved sexual psychology and the constraints of contemporary monogamy.
• Critique of the ‘standard narrative’: The traditional view—that men are promiscuous and women monogamous by nature—is challenged; the authors argue that female sexuality is far more complex.
• Modern implications: Although they stop short of openly advocating non-monogamy, the authors propose that a better understanding of our evolutionary past could inform more realistic, compassionate models of modern relationships, such as polyamory and open marriages.
Although I wholeheartedly agree that female sexuality is more dynamic and complex than traditionally acknowledged (and may never come fully to light while women must mould it to survive in male-dominated societies), I find many of the book’s anthropological illustrations deeply problematic.
This is a pity because, to quote from Sex at Dawn:
‘Societies in which women have lots of autonomy and authority tend to be decidedly male-friendly, relaxed, tolerant, and plenty sexy. ... As with bonobos, where female coalitions are the ultimate social authority and individual females need not fear the larger males, human societies in which women are “sassy and confident,” as Barnes described the Mosuo girls—free to express their minds and sexuality without fear of shame or persecution—tend to be far more comfortable places for most men than societies ruled by a male elite.’
Yet their views are sharply contrasted with evidence suggesting that prehistoric females often engaged in transactional sexual relationships—consciously or otherwise—for protection and resources. The authors reductively summarise Darwin as having claimed that our ‘mothers were whores’, which they refute:
‘If human sexuality developed primarily as a bonding mechanism in interdependent bands where paternity certainty was a non-issue, then the standard narrative of human sexual evolution is toast. The anachronistic presumption that women have always bartered their sexual favors to individual men in return for help with child care, food, protection, and the rest of it collapses upon contact with the many societies where women feel no need to negotiate such deals.’
Sex at Dawn addresses male parental investment, female sexual receptivity, sperm competition, and partible paternity (which defuses potential conflicts among men). It also describes our differences and similarities with other primate species—chimpanzees, bonobos, gorillas, and orang-utans (the great apes) on the one hand, and gibbons (lesser apes) on the other.
In some respects, Sex at Dawn reminded me of Richard O. Prum’s The Evolution of Beauty: How Darwin’s Forgotten Theory of Mate Choice Shapes the Animal World—And Us (2017) (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), which I read in 2018 and which still remains one of my favourite books. It also echoes ideas proposed by Sarah Blaffer Hrdy in Mother Nature: Maternal Instincts and How They Shape the Human Species (2000) (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...), another favourite of mine. However, the similarities remain superficial, as The Evolution of Beauty and Mother Nature are wonderful, while Sex at Dawn is inconsistent, shallow, and whimsical.
Problematic Examples
The book cites numerous tribal societies to argue that non-monogamy is normative and functional. For instance, among the Aché, an indigenous hunter-gatherer people of Paraguay, a woman may seek sexual contributions from multiple men, each of whom is believed to impart an essence to the developing child. Fathers are categorised accordingly: the man who deposited the semen, those who mixed it, those who contributed partially, and those who provided the child’s essence. Up to 70 per cent of Amazonian cultures are thought to have believed in the principle of partible paternity—a cultural conceptualisation in which a child is understood to have more than one father due to the belief that pregnancy results cumulatively from multiple acts of sexual intercourse. This often results in the child being nurtured by multiple fathers in a form of polyandric relationship to the mother.
The authors explain:
‘Recognised as a way to build and maintain a network of mutually beneficial relationships, non-reproductive sex no longer requires special explanations. … Paternity certainty, far from being the universal and overriding obsession of all men everywhere and always, as the standard narrative insists, was likely a nonissue to men who lived before agriculture and resulting concerns with passing property through lines of paternal descent.’
In another example, the authors describe how, among the Matis people, an indigenous hunter-gatherer people of Brazil, marriage is fluid—‘moving two hammocks close together’—and doesn't preclude additional sexual partners. Matis women enjoy a degree of freedom in choosing sexual partners, even while in a relationship. The concept of plural paternity is prevalent. However, the Matis don’t stop there, as married or not, one has a moral duty to respond to the sexual advances of opposite-sex cross-cousins (real or classificatory), under pain of being labelled ‘stingy of one’s genitals’—a breach of Matis ethics far more serious than plain infidelity. One young man reportedly cowered in the anthropologist’s hut for hours, hiding from his horny cousin, whose advances he could not legitimately reject if she tracked him down. Even more serious, during Matis tattooing festivals, having sex with one's customary partner(s) is expressly forbidden—under threat of extreme punishment, even death.
While these beliefs may reflect cultural variation in ideas of paternity, the use of such examples by the authors often glosses over coercive or exploitative aspects of these practices. In Canela society, for instance, a bride-to-be is expected to engage in sequential sex with fifteen to twenty men as a form of premarital service. In Sex At Dawn, the authors merely mention this to further their arguments:
‘Anthropologist William Crocker is convinced that Canela husbands are not jealous, writing, “Whether or not Canela husbands are telling the truth about not minding, they join with other members in encouraging their wives to honor the custom ... (of) ritual sex with twenty or more men during all-community ceremonies.” Now, anyone who can pretend not to be jealous as his wife has sex with twenty or more men is someone you do not want to meet across a poker table.’
However, Christopher Ryan and Cacilda Jethá fail to mention how the same anthropologist also writes: ‘If she does not, a group of men will waylay her to teach her to be generous.’ (Crocker, William H., ‘Canela Marriage: Factors in Change’, in Marriage Practices in Lowland South America, ed. Kenneth M. Kensinger, Illinois Studies in Anthropology, no. 14 (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press))
From a contemporary feminist viewpoint, this is neither liberating nor egalitarian—it is abusive.
Likewise, in the Muria tribe of central India, the ghotul system encourages adolescent sexual experimentation. However, once adolescent girls and boys leave the ghotul, they must marry partners chosen by their fathers when they were still children, with girls moving away from their community to their husband’s village. Whatever sexual freedom they may experience is short-lived and followed by a rigidly monogamous and heavily patriarchal life. Within the ghotul, it is all fun and games, but once outside, reality hits hard—especially girls. (*)
These examples, far from illustrating non-coercive non-monogamy, reflect deeply patriarchal structures with troubling implications for women (as well as some men).
The Mosuo of south-western China, often described as a matrilineal and matrilocal society, present an interesting contrast. In Mosuo culture, women control property, lineage is traced through the female line, and sexual relationships occur through a practice called ‘walking marriages’. Men and women do not live together; instead, partners visit each other at night and return to their maternal homes by morning. These relationships are consensual and not bound by formal marriage or cohabitation. Importantly, children remain in their mother’s household and are raised communally, with uncles often playing the paternal role. While not utopian, Mosuo practices represent one of the few well-documented systems where female autonomy and non-monogamous relationships coexist in a relatively egalitarian social structure (and a rather comfortable place for men too).
Broader Reflections
Although Sex at Dawn seeks to challenge the monogamy myth, its selective use of data and cherry-picked portrayal of tribal practices undermine its thesis. Nevertheless, the book raises valid questions: Are men and women inherently sexually incompatible? (The authors argue they are compatible.) Is the nuclear family a natural human unit or a cultural imposition? (Again, the authors suggest it is the latter.)
I find myself in agreement with Marvin Harris, who wrote:
‘Like all dominant groups, men seek to promote an image of their subordinate’s nature that contributes to the preservation of the status quo.’
In all the forms of relationship discussed (save for the matrilineal and matrilocal Mosuo of China), women appear to be adapting to male power structures—be it through coerced monogamy or culturally mandated sexual generosity.
Oscar Wilde said, ‘Everything in the world is about sex—except sex. Sex is about power.’ In a male-powered world, women have had no recourse but to trust the empowered. If sex is an exchange of trust, I agree with Ryan and Jethá that a relaxation of moralistic codes might make sexual satisfaction more accessible and less fraught.
What if women had full material and social autonomy? Without financial dependency or societal expectations shaping their decisions, what kinds of relationships might they pursue? Would they favor committed monogamy, casual arrangements, or something else entirely? Lifelong bonds or fluid, evolving connections? One deeply engaged father or several contributing partners, as among the Aché of Paraguay? How might they respond to men’s variety-seeking tendencies—or other typically male proclivities? With tolerance, indifference, or by rewriting the rules altogether? And how, in turn, would men respond—if, for the first time in history, they had to engage with women who were truly free and entirely equal?
Given the immense variety of human relationships across time and culture—and the full spectrum of desires and dispositions in both women and men—it seems safe to say: different strokes for different folks. And what a wonderful world that could be.
Final Thoughts
Sex at Dawn was widely criticised by academics and responded to in Lynn Saxon’s 2012 Sex at Dusk: Lifting the Shiny Wrapping from Sex at Dawn, which counters many of its claims, exposing not only many of its errors and omissions, as well as its intentional mistreatment of the ‘evidence’, but also an ideological agenda hidden behind the ‘science’. According to Saxon, sexual jealousy is universal, female selectiveness is significant, and anatomical evidence (e.g. penis and testes size) does not support high levels of sperm competition. Moreover, she argues that promiscuous mating does not allow for the evolution of human social structures as observed across human populations, or the evolution of the equally cross-cultural trait of relatively strong paternal investment. It is true that paternal uncertainty increases the chances of offspring survival in some primate species through reducing the risk of infanticide by males (and is therefore often the female strategy of choice to protect their young). Having said that, not killing an infant and directly investing one’s resources to further their development are not the same thing.
In conclusion, Sex at Dawn is a provocative and engaging book, but its arguments collapse under even slightest scrutiny. Its use of cultural examples is often careless, and its scientific foundation tenuous. Still, it opens up important conversations about the nature of human relationships, and for that, it is worth reading—with scepticism firmly in place.
(*) Michael Yorke, The Muria, YouTube, [video], 1981, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqaEU... (accessed 18 June 2025). This short documentary, filmed in the Bastar region of Chhattisgarh for the BBC Ethnographic Unit, offers a glimpse into Muria tribal life as it appeared in the early 1980s. Since then, the situation has changed significantly. According to available newspaper articles, over a decade ago, many Muria tribals fled the Dandakaranya region amid conflict between left-wing extremist groups and the Indian government, resettling in the reserve forests of Andhra Pradesh. There, access to primary education, clean drinking water, and social welfare remains limited, and the threat of displacement continues (‘Muria tribe settlement in Chukkalapadu: Lost in the woods’, The Hindu, https://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/... (accessed 18 June 2025). I haven’t been able to find any recent information about whether their traditional practices are still being followed.
August 3, 2025
I really loved it. It made me look more compassionate at my own and my partner’s sexual nature and broadened my view by explaining how other, more matriarchal societies, look at women’s sexuality. The shackles of patriarchy, which we are wearing in the West, are not always so obvious to ourselves until pointed out or compared to other cultures. Would 100 % recommend!
April 18, 2025
This, abomination of a book, is a feeble and desperate attempt by its authors to try and justify - and naturally fail in the end - how promiscuity and matrimonial infidelity could strengthen one’s relationship and boost health and general wellbeing.
The authors resort to comparing other members of the primate family - to which humans belong to evolutionarily, such as bonobos - as the broad basis of their arguments in favor of literally cheating on one’s spouse or partner because, ‘if other monkeys do it, why shouldn’t we?’
Actually I do recommend this book as a model to understand how some authors use pseudoscience and downright nonsense to just ‘sell’ their book.
So, read it to understand how a book should NOT be written.
The authors resort to comparing other members of the primate family - to which humans belong to evolutionarily, such as bonobos - as the broad basis of their arguments in favor of literally cheating on one’s spouse or partner because, ‘if other monkeys do it, why shouldn’t we?’
Actually I do recommend this book as a model to understand how some authors use pseudoscience and downright nonsense to just ‘sell’ their book.
So, read it to understand how a book should NOT be written.
July 13, 2025
I considered myself monogamous my whole life and never really understood polyamory. I was talking to someone on hinge and they changed their profile to non-monogamous while we were talking. I confronted him, pretty disappointed, and he insisted I read this book. Thank god he did because this was a jaw-dropping, validating and incredibly empowering book. My life will never be the same. Had I known what I do now about human nature I wonder if I would have suffered such anxiety and depression in my life. This book gave me a new purpose now to continue discovering the truth for myself. A truly incredible read.
October 26, 2024
I liked it, but I still do not agree that the Agricultural revolution was the cause of all our ills.
The argument was compelling and validating for non monogamous relationships.
Pretty dense in parts so it took awhile to get through as I kept putting it down.
I am glad I shouldered through and finished however and recommend it to the curious, would make a good book to spark conversations but I'd love a 50 page version.
The argument was compelling and validating for non monogamous relationships.
Pretty dense in parts so it took awhile to get through as I kept putting it down.
I am glad I shouldered through and finished however and recommend it to the curious, would make a good book to spark conversations but I'd love a 50 page version.
June 18, 2025
Well cited but strongly opinionated often to the point of being obnoxious. The substantial references and colorful, somewhat exaggerated writing style put it in a strange middle ground between academic and pop-sci.
May 16, 2024
V interesting about the history of sex and monogamy. Lots of stuff in evolution and apes. Would recommend !!!
October 9, 2025
Interesting read, but a bit long winded and can sometimes be slightly overly disparaging to other ideas.
November 30, 2025
boring, overly complicated language, didn't finish
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews