Somewhere in her early childhood and adolescent years; Sue Ellen had acquired a distorted image of sex. Now, although it was well hidden in the shadowed recesses of her subconscious, the image was tormenting her each day of her life, directing her violent actions and perverting her social relationships. Had she attained emotional maturity along with her womanhood, hers could have been a full and good life; normal in that sex, love and casual companionship would have taken a rightful share of importance. As it was, her mental affliction manifested itself in overt patterns of nymphomania -- a frantic and constant desire to pervert and consume.In the final depths of her degradation and despair, Sue Ellen undertakes psychiatric treatment. Eavesdropping at couch-side, the author vividly and dramatically reveals an unusual case history... the impassioned story of a woman seeking the road back.
Writing in New York City in the 1950s and 60s, March Hastings, a pseudonym of Sally Singer, was one of the most prolific authors of the lesbian pulp era. She now lives in Florida.
I bought this in Boston, at a used book store, where they had a rack of old pulp books.
Yes, it's a trashy pulp novel. Sordid and exploitative. And yet it's surprisingly well written. Our heroine is a nymphomaniac and bangs a lot of people - men and women. But don't worry. She has a therapist and he is going to save her.
It's a weird little book that both dives deep into smut, but also reads like a romance novel. Her throbbing molten core begs to be filled by his manhood - that kind of stuff. You can tell the book is flirting around the edges of some old moral code. It still manages to be arousing, hilarious, and readable.
March Hastings, I've read, is a pen name for a woman who wrote a series of lesbian pulp novels. Kind of fascinating stuff. I am tempted to look for more of her books. Her writing is surprisingly good.