Through the lens of her years spent as a sex worker, Charlotte Shane offers a provocative and tender reckoning of what it means to be a heterosexual woman and a feminist in a misogynistic society.
In her early twenties, Charlotte Shane quit her women’s studies graduate program to devote herself to sex work because it was a way to devote herself to men. Her lifelong curiosity about male lust, love, selfishness, and social capital dovetailed with her own insatiable desire for intimacy to sustain a long career in escorting, with unexpectedly poignant results.
Shane uses her personal and professional history to examine how men and women struggle in their attempts at romantic and sexual bonding, no matter how true their intentions. As she takes stock of her relationships—with clients, with her father, with friends, with married men, and later, with her own husband—she tells a candid and haunting tale of love, marriage, and (in)fidelity, as seen through the eyes of the perpetual “other woman.”
Braiding the personal and the universal, Shane’s memoir is a merciless and moving love letter to straight men and an indictment of habitual dishonesty, a condemnation of every social constraint acting on heterosexual unions, and a hopeful affirmation of the possibility for true connection between men and women.
This memoir doesn't try to do very much. It feels deeply phoned in, unconcerned with the reader's experience, just page after page of long summary paragraphs. It is concerned with only one thing: making sure you understand that yes sex work is real and here are some of the ways it works. You could have accomplished everything this book accomplishes in a nice longform essay.
I often found myself with questions about Shane herself. She lays out a lot of situations but doesn't get much into her own feelings. She shows you how she had this need to please men from an early age, but it's still a pretty big jump from there to sex work, especially when she found sex unpleasant and painful. She breezes past this gap. And in some ways I get it, she wants you to understand that she does not need to justify herself. She wants to normalize sex work and that's a worthy goal. But it's not the goal of a memoir, which is to share a personal experience. That's the real problem: this isn't a memoir at all.
The center of the book is Shane's long relationship with an older, married man who falls in love with her. It's a strange relationship, and she sometimes tries to explain it, but she leaves a lot unsaid that leave you without a lot of new insight by the time it's over.
This is an absolute mess that doesn't deliver what it advertises, but it's also pageturner for other reasons. Charlotte Shane does four things here: First, she hauntingly describes the effects of growing up in a patriarchal society and the internalized misogyny it creates. Then, she conveys her experiences in the field of sex work. A special focus is put on her almost ten year long business relationship with a married client who died of a brain tumor, and with whom she struck a special, non-romantic relationship. In the last part, the author talks about her love for her husband.
What renders the book slightly disturbing, but in an interesting way, is how it investigates a very Michel Houellebecq'ian argument: In Extension du domaine de la lutte, the French provocateur states that liberal capitalism leads to commodified sexuality regulated by supply and demand, and Shane now explores sex work as a choice rooted in female bodily autonomy (a third-wave feminist attitude I also subscribe to) and the implications of that for marriage as a transactional institution and capitalist work environments in general. And granted, while her young self goes unusually far to please boys, the fact that women are brought up constantly being fed that it's their job to please men in various regards is just true, so some instances where she describes how she was taught just that are way too relatable. The storyline around the client she becomes fond of questions the line between paid-for sex and a compassionate friendship in unexpected ways.
Does all of this come together? Nope. Does the author directly feed us wisdom or, as some readers apparently demand, explain to us that some of her attitudes, especially in her youth, were obviously problematic? Also nope. But let's be real, guys: The thing is that when Britney Spears (who features as an image of young sexiness that Shane has looked up to, as many other girls) had a mental breakdown, the larger part of the audience was laughing and feeling superior, young women were TOLD that she is a failure, that she is what a woman should not become - that's the problem here, not that the author admits that she also felt that way. The issue is how women have been gaslit into submitting to standards crafted to keep them in line. And how this relates to sex work is an interesting question.
So there is certainly a lot to complain about here, but I found the text intriguing, and I think Shane's story is one worth discussing. Also, extra points for mentioning Virginie Despentes (also a former sex-worker).
Even though millions of people do it, working in the sex industry is still a taboo and culturally shameful thing. An Honest Woman is an insightful account of one womans experience as a sex worker told with brutal honesty. She also discusses her awkward adolescent years and coming into her sexuality as a woman.
I found An Honest Woman to be utterly fascinating! I really enjoyed learning about how Charlotte began her journey as a sex worker and I enjoyed following her through her career as an escort.
I found this book to be a sort of love letter to men. How she adores them and desires the male body. The author also discusses her relationships with the men in her life, her father, her male friends in her teen years, her love interests, as well as the men she met through her job.
I listened to the audiobook format which was read by the fantastic Caitlin Kelly. If you decide to read this one, I highly recommend this format!
An Honest Woman by Charlotte Shane was published on August 13 so it's available now. Many thanks to Simon Audio for the gifted audiobook!
So very pretentious and so very overwritten. Not so much insightful as it is self-indulgent, full of psych 101 musings from someone seemingly hellbent on justifying themself to themself. Sex work is legitimate work, and should not be a crime. That this has been getting rave reviews is.
While I was immediately sold on the premise, I was quickly disappointed. I feel that the book is a little all over the place. While I find it hard to judge a memoir as it is someone’s life, I just feel that the first half was driven my her insecurities and random female shaming. The second half was interesting, but I felt the book to be disjointed. It seems slightly unhinged in terms of her relationship with her one client and their family / actions thereafter and event that takes place. The ending came out of nowhere and I feel left me with unanswered components in what was being shared.
Drab, delusional, and deadly dull, this tiny booklet is so laughingly bad that the publisher must have thought the word "sex" on the cover would dupe readers into shelling out $26. For what? For nothing interesting beyond a naïve teen who gives male pals blowjobs but has pain during intercourse, then skips years of her life to suddenly say she falls into the sex industry but gives few stories and eventually ends up meeting a guy on Tinder for her "happily ever after."
The entire book is ill-conceived with her structuring it by following her ten-year sugar daddy relationship with "Roger," a guy who pays the writer big bucks but rarely has sex with her. By the time she's 30 years old she goons out over how she can't live with him but can't live without him. Then he gets brain cancer and the author gets upset at the guy as he dies for mixing up dates and times? She sounds like a real bitch.
The booklet is so small that if you took out the white space it would be less than 40 two-sided pages of a normal piece of paper, and to be honest you may find the white space more interesting than her prose.
Her writing style attempts to be sophisticated and analytical but this lacks any depth and comes across more like a 14-year-old writing a term paper that's padded with worthless words. If you dare devote any time to reading this you'll be shocked by the minimal specifics and that at times she turns it into a "how to" manual or debates the merits of discreetly sleeping with a married man.
She doesn't even explain how she spilled her history to her now husband, but it doesn't make much difference because she wastes a few pages trying to convince us that in a truly loving relationship you should want the best for your spouse--even if that mean them having sex with others.
There is nothing to this book beyond the simplicity of a bad Lifetime movie. The joke is on you if you waste your money on this mess because most of her work is embarrassingly lightweight and she shares so few specifics that I question how much of an "honest woman" she is being.
Overall disappointing when I was expecting so much from this. Just constant internal misogyny leaking through this when talking about other women or wives of clients. She also uses Britney Spears several times throughout. Describing that part of her desire to do sex work is because of her own insecurities and how this job has helped her with that. She goes on several times talking about growing up being jealous of britney’s beauty but then makes herself feel better by talking about how beautiful she is while Britney has gone downhill (during her mental breakdown era) “She was the cautionary tale, the tragedy. I was the success, I think. Or at least I wasn’t a pity.” Page 41.
Throughout this she also mentions how good she is at her job, while comparing herself to other sex workers. She never mentions the violence that many face in this field and such. She mentions some stalking, but downplays the cruelty some face. As I’ve stated many times, this felt very toxic toward other women. The ending felt so rushed too.
A quick, moving and eloquent memoir! I really enjoyed the authors insights on sex work and weaving her personal experiences with larger observations about men, women and society. Although not all of her experiences and conclusions resonated with me, the overall tone was something very approachable and compulsively readable.
My slight critique is the last chapter came on too fast and wrapped up too quickly.
Thank you to Netgalley and Simon & Schuster for the opportunity to review this ARC.
3.5⭐️ This was well written and has some hard hitting lines. However, it’s kind of all over the place and doesn’t offer much insight. Still, the content was interesting and some of the messaging was very important!
I didn’t like this as much as I anticipated. Of course sex work will be described through her personal lens, but I thought that she could have provided more background and details about the different types that are out there. It seems that she eased into it and began making money pretty quickly, and that’s certainly not always the case. Her ongoing narrative about her longest customer was nice, but it makes me wonder if he was the main reason she wrote this book. Solid 3 stars.
It seems as though most of the harshest critiques of An Honest Woman are from readers unfamiliar with Charlotte’s work, & I understand why they may have been frustrated by the seeming lack of structure or expectations of what a memoir on sex work should do. I wouldn’t recommend this memoir as a starting place for her body of work; NB and Prostitute Laundry both provide a more conventional approach to the topic and to memoir that are worthwhile prerequisites to An Honest Woman. Charlotte is also a prolific essayist and honestly many of her essays would functionally operate as better introductions as well.
I say that because I loved this memoir, and frankly that’s in large part because it’s not only honest; it isn’t interested in convincing the reader of anything in particular. There’s no bow that neatly wraps together all of the threads Charlotte explores. There’s no moralizing, no thematic overture, and no hint of any effort to win over the reader’s favor by depicting herself as any more human than the people she writes about. I’m sure the chaotic organization of my ADHD brain is in part why stylistically the book’s flow and structure appealed to me, but Charlotte’s honesty seeps through in that vein, too. It’s not that the book is void of structure - in many respects it comes full circle by beginning with a long-term client of hers, Roger, who is also the memoir’s denouement. Its structure otherwise leans toward the non-linear, as any reflection on the interconnectedness of our life experiences lends itself to be.
If you want a linear structure, read NB, which is literally structured into six parts labeled by year (2008 to 2013). If you want Charlotte’s political education writing as a feminist, an abolitionist, an advocate for reproductive justice, a sex worker, and a leftist, read one of her countless essays explicitly discussing those topics. If you dove into An Honest Woman expecting a treatise on sex work, consider that you may be unknowingly dehumanizing sex workers by failing to recognize the ways in which this memoir is very much centered around sex work - as it’s wrapped up in the broader scope of Charlotte’s life, not as an exercise in political or sociocultural commentary. (And, again, refer to her aforementioned essays or a plethora of other writers’ work that is exactly that - Playing the Whore by Melissa Gira Grant is probably more in line with your expectations.)
This is a deeply intimate memoir, but I would say that the critiques are fair insofar as the intimacy of this book in some ways expounds upon Charlotte’s previous work, in particular her two prior memoirs. This is a memoir that explores sexual desirability, power dynamics within the messy worlds of human gendered relations (with a focus on cis, heterosexual gender dynamics), grief, love, youth and sexual coming-of-age, marriage, aging, and the complexity of maintaining integrity within the chaotic realities of both platonic and sexual/romantic relationships.
An Honest Woman is a beautiful, unvarnished portrayal of the ways in which desirability shapes our life paths; how we view ourselves; and how we relate to others. It’s also a meditation on how the agency we have to determine those life paths inevitably runs up against misfortune, loss, betrayal, and the inherently chaotic nature of the universe we live in regardless of how much agency we may otherwise hold over it. As a longtime reader of Charlotte’s work, my bias is clear, but so, too, are the biases many critiquing her newest memoir enter with. Some of it is fair criticism; much of it is simply laziness (the notion that she’s a misogynist, for example, is an accusation levied by someone who clearly didn’t bother to read the room), and even more of it is neatly defined expectations of what this memoir ‘should’ be. To which I again repeat my assertion that you explore her other writing first, drop your expectations altogether, or - alternately - simply accept that not everything is for you. For those of us who find deep resonance in, and connection with, Charlotte’s reflections of her inner emotional landscape and perspective of the world, An Honest Woman doesn’t disappoint.
Thank you so much to NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for the ARC in exchange for my honest review! All opinions expressed in this review are my own.
An Honest Woman is Charlotte Shane’s memoir about being a sex worker, beginning in her childhood, spanning into her adolescence and first experiences with sex, describing her encounters as a sought-after sex worker in New York City, and later, her relationships with a client and her husband. It’s not told in exactly that order, but I really didn’t mind. Each of Shane’s chapters revealed more about her life—what made her interested in sex work and how she turned this passion into a career, how her childhood influenced her perceptions on sex and love and marriage, and the personal relationships she had with her clients over the years—and showcased her gorgeous writing style, immersing me in nearly every experience that she recalled.
I was initially drawn to this memoir because I’ve been learning a lot about sex work in my Anthropology class this semester, but I stayed for Shane’s transfixing prose and her story. Even though I’m not as experienced as she is—even when she describes her adolescence and her late teens/early twenties—I felt like I was reading some of the stories of my love life. I didn’t think I’d be able to relate entirely to her memoir, but it’s hard not to relate to her words: about feeling like an outsider in her friend groups growing up, feeling stuck in academia and academic circles, feeling like you’re trapped in the narrative that others around you are writing. This part of the memoir is executed flawlessly, and her tone and writing are sharp and poignant, great features in a memoir. However, I flew through the first half, unable to pick up the second half of the book (mostly because I had lots of stress from finals! but also) because it shifted into a concentration on one of her clients, Roger. I liked reading about Roger—this memoir seems to be a case study of Roger, in addition to telling her life story—but I felt that it became very oxymoronic at times. Shane stresses that she is not in love with Roger, not a gold digger, but she dedicates so much time of her book solely describing their relationship.
Obviously, there’s nothing wrong with a sex worker being in love with their client, but I felt that Shane continually defended that she wasn’t in love with Roger, and the defenses ended up weakening her claims. She did not come off as a gold digger to me, because it was obvious that she cared so much for Roger, but I felt that their relationship lost its spark and became lackluster after she continually doubled down that there was no mutual love—even when it doesn’t take a critical reader reading in between the lines to see that both she and Roger were in love with each other. Maybe this is because she is married, but then she only spends a single chapter talking about her husband. This makes sense, because this is a memoir about her life as a sex worker, but I would have loved to read more about her managing both her relationships with her husband and with Roger moreso than I would have liked to read about her and Roger time and time again. I hope I’m not coming off like a hater, because it was super interesting to read about how her relationship with Roger turned from client to close friend, but it dominated the book more than I would have liked.
As far as memoirs go, this is extremely well written, and I would love to read more about Shane’s experiences in the industry. She loves what she does and doesn’t apologize for it, which is so commendable and empowering. I really recommend this memoir if you like memoirs and love learning about the sex work industry.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
it’s misleading to make the argument that Shane is a provocative feminist—An Honest Woman is primarily concerned with the author’s obsession with sex, her own ego, money, and men (in that order).
what most captured my attention was when her regular client of 9+ years, her “best client” (of whom she fondly spoke for a good quarter of the book!??), had a brain tumor, she notes she wanted to be there for him so badly; however, she couldn’t fathom going there without pay. right…
regardless, sex work is real work, but i’m not sure this book is doing anything to tip the scale of public opinion.
an odd jia rec…entertaining and v readable sick day book, but the gendered analysis felt very surface level and a bit dated for me so just didn’t feel that fresh. The structure also felt very free from (kind of like Britney memoir) and random in a way that was hard to follow at times.
I did appreciate some of the analysis on how men treat sex workers vs partners in their lives, and her candor made this a fun / light read.
It's so easy for a man to fall in love with a girl, any girl, who's been removed from herself--or to imagine he's in love, anyway. To be stoked to extremes by the presence of a form and the absence of a her.
I found this slim memoir by way of an excerpt in the The Wall Street Journal, of all places. I came for the voyeuristic appeal of a memoir of the life of an escort and stayed for the writing, which is frequently quite lovely. The author still remains something of an enigma, although weirdly I do understand her (or, much like her clients, I think I do) from the bits and pieces of herself she reveals.
How she found her way to sex work is mostly a story that any number of women in a crowd could share. Her parents divorced when she was young, her father was seemingly unable to self-censor what wasn't appropriate to discuss with a young girl, she felt unattractive (and someone wearing a psychology hat might say unloved or more accurately, unseen) , compared herself unfavorably to Britney Spears, and she was fascinated by the idea of sex (and the need to experience a closeness that wasn't emotional and thus safe, as that psychology hat would pop up and say here.)
This all leads her to a 10 year career in sex work starting as a cam girl, then an outcall masseuse (or, "masseuse"), and finally as an escort. The story is bookended around her 10 year relationship with a client she calls Roger and ends with a triple punch of meeting her husband, Covid, and the natural aging out for that type of work (She has also said in interviews that she didn’t want to continue marketing herself online.)
Most of all, I was taken by her sense of wistfulness about the whole thing. Here, about her experience at a bachelor party:
I left the party with the sense of having sunk deliciously down into the pleasures of the actual world rather than spinning up and out above them, and it inspired a wild greed in me, not for money but for more of that experience......But within the celebration was also a goodbye. Their opportunities to do something like this were disappearing. They were married or marrying; they had kids or were planning for them; they didn't live in the same cities. I would never again enter their hedonistic Eden, but they probably wouldn't either.
Shane at times sounds like she may have a sex addiction, other times she just seems aroused at the notion of being desirable, at other times she's ambivalent and just wants to get paid and maybe that's the nature of the job for a lot of the people in its thrall. Most of her clients are older men who are married, some of them (including Roger) inevitably claimed to be in love with her--or, more accurately, the chimera of her--which typically signals the beginning of the end of their commercial relationship.
The best work dates didn't feel like real life. They were more vivid, more compelling than most encounters, like a drug trip, because they concentrated energy by removing distractions. Then we could make the other person our sole focus. The way to savor the experience wasn't by dismantling the structure to which we'd met but by spending as much time in the paid encounter as possible. Most of the men I really liked seemed to understand that.
The part about the terminal illness and death of her longest client, Roger, was easily the most poignant and best part of the book. They obviously care about each other in their way but will manifestly never be a couple and when he gets sick, the fragility of their connection becomes clear to her. She learns of his death months after their last email exchange ("Roger, I know you're gone, but I'm not sure you're really gone.") Maybe it made me think of the innumerable people I've known and loved over the years whom I no longer see. So many of our relationships are unacceptably and surprisingly frangible.
This isn't earth shattering but it's well written and a thoughtful exploration of the strange intimacies that occur at the intersection of lust, anonymity, and commerce.
what a confusing and unfulfilling book to read. deep questions of intimacy and connection are analyzed with arms-length, dispassionate prose. i think because i do not relate to her understanding or experience of heterosexual sex, i found it hard to find a way in.
shane expresses sentiments about love and sex that that confuse me, perhaps because they feel so alien. she's deeply in love with her husband and wants him to have sex with extramarital partners if he so chooses, but she *doesn't want to know about it at all.* she cares about her longtime client, roger, and yearns to see him, even quoting at length his emails in the book and telling him "this is the maximum level of being with me," but she takes great pains to assure the reader that *she was never in love with him.* girl, you devoted half the book to talking about your relationship with him.
the details and intricacies of sex work as described by shane were interesting to me. at points the book tantalized me because of the description of owning one's own schedule and clients, having freer, often more unencumbered, sometimes more respectful and even more romantic relationships outside of traditional heterosexual dating, and the empowerment that comes from charging money for what other women do for free — and charging for tiers of it, like charging more for condomless sex. i did gain the understanding, too, from the book that shane was not entirely happy with the universe of secrets and lies that occupying an ambiguous place in a client's life can lead to. in the case of roger, she was ultimately deeply unfulfilled by their relationship because of the revelation that he'd lied to everyone in his life about her, and the devastating idea that (because of who she was to him) she couldn't be a caregiver to him at the end of his life. she didn't get to say goodbye, and that left her with a "wound that would last forever."
in the end, all this talk about sex work — which was going somewhere interesting — devolves into a fairly glossy, textbook description of simple, easy heterosexual romantic love with a non-client (her husband). she even says she's so obsessed with his penis, it looks like it was designed in a lab.
one other note: i find it hard to believe, shane, a writer who's worked for decades as a sex worker and spent those years living in nyc and dc, sometimes shares sentiments that strike me as deeply antifeminist or misogynistic. take this one, for example: "women are especially susceptible" to the "biological, chemical tricks" of sex. what?! i have no other way to read that than as fashioned sexism. it feels so disappointing to read a book that bills itself as a "memoir of love and sex work" that doesn't seem interested in the basic feminist notions of its day.
"But the strength of the shame meant that any whiff of "no" tended to linger for years, and the guy was usually so afraid of treating it with the seriousness it deserved, he'd make the request sound like a short-lived whim. If she laughed it off, or made a face, or asked him why they would do that with each other, he'd never mention it again. That misunderstanding impeded the creation of new intimacy and pushed them apart. Couples don't have to share everything with each other, but this, to me felt like an unnecessary loss"
Thank you to Charlotte Shane and NetGalley.com for the Advanced Readers Copy.
I am truly blown away with how beautifully well this was written. Charlotte's voice, understanding of her life experiences, and total self awareness had me hanging on every last word. I was flying through the book while also trying to read as slowly as possible because I did not want it to end. This is not just a compilation of specific instances, or wild stories.. it is so much deeper than that. I think as humans we are naturally curious about sex in general, but sex work specifically because it can be seen as taboo in our culture and this book helps you understand more from the perspective of someone who chose to do this with her life for her own unique reasons. This was an easy 5 star rating for me, I will absolutely be purchasing a physical copy for my shelf, and will be cheering on the author hoping her voice gives us more in the future!
I started this book on Audio book about a month ago but I listened to over 80% of it today. It’s relatively short and I see that as part of its problem. This was a very interesting lens into a side of sex work rarely portrayed in modern media. So much of our exposure to sex work is grossly negative - such that our views of it are demeaning and subsequently disrespectful of the many self respecting women, and women deserving of our respect who partake. This largely shows the side that many pro-sex work feminists tend to hitch their trailer to. The agency, liberations, joys and freedoms that come with choosing to engage in sex work. I think this story is intimately important to understanding women, understanding sex work and truthfully - understanding men. I learned more about men in some capacities in this book than I did about women. The ways in which men adjudicate sex for hire, how they justify lying to their spouses, how they partake in fantasies and spill secrets in an environment they deem “safe” because they feel they hold the position of power and the sanctity of distance from their ‘normal’ lives. Ultimately like so many things in life this book is about a woman, but it’s sort of really about men.
Shane narrates her foray into sex work by weaving it into the story of a long standing client. She tells of the jubilation of power she felt when she was young, the prowess of vulturous men feeding on the naive, navigating a space in which she both fed into and repelled the way society often only values women for their sex appeal and what they can offer men. Her story is an important one, an overarching happy one, though it is imperative we note it is only one side, one story in sex work.
Shane closes the book by telling us of her husband whom she has been with for over a decade. It was a jarring ending particularly because whilst she shares her love for him and how she feels about him she does not share how they navigated her physical and at times emotional intimacy with clients. In a book about honesty this struck me as the least honest chapter. Though the whole of the book felt a bit like fishing in shallow waters, we probably should be a little deeper. She spoke of how clients and friends often accused her of keeping large parts of herself hidden and though unable to access and share a trove of emotion, you can sense that in the book. As though there was still a great distance between divulging the information and attaching emotional sentiment to it that allowed you to connect. I felt oddly disconnected from so much of this book about a particular form of human connection.
I was disappointed to read some of the other more negative reviews - far too technical viewpoints. I found the book extremely interesting and educational, on a subject I know little about. Her perspective talking through some of her experiences and the way she views things left me with a variety of reactions. if your looking to broaden you mind, give it a go.
Finished my ARC - thank you to Simon & Schuster for my digital copy.
I haven’t read a memoir in a little while so once I came across this in my ARC list to read I thought I’d give it a go. It was definitely interesting to hear about this particular topic & how open she was to being raw & honest about it. Some parts felt uneven and choppy, making it harder for the reading flow. Unfortunately this memoir didn’t hit for me like other memoirs.
3.25 ⭐️ I am not sure why people did not enjoy this book. I did enjoy hearing the author's stories and anecdotes. People gravitate to unlikable fictional characters, but when real people show flaws, that is where they draw the line. Being a woman is flawed; everyone makes flawed choices, and we don't all publish books containing them. People pick up a memoir about sex work and expect her to say that it was terrible, regrettable, and miserable and that she has overcome and is now doing non-profit work or something. Women can like sex! Sex work is real work! I think this ended up on the wrong side of reviewers because I quite enjoyed it.
Thank you, Net Galley and Simon & Schuster for the advanced reader copy.
Not exactly what it’s advertised to be. Will update post book club to see if I’m just way off base.
Editing after book club discussion: I was not way off base. This is advertised specifically for a feminist lens and instead, Shane reveals, probably unbeknownst to her, all the ingrained patriarchal bullshit she needs therapy for. Let me make this clear: I have zero problem with sex work and the women, men, and people who choose to do it or hire one. I equate it to being a house spouse, as in you are providing services that another person is paying you for. You are using your body to do a job in private employment; it’s just using your body in different ways. My problem is not that.
My problem is the hypocrisy, the contradictions, and the anti-feminism of this. Shane often says that something was for the other sex workers, that they did things she didn’t, and then she did the same things. It was clear to me that her whole goal was validation from men and to be better than other women. She even says that quiet part out loud at one point, saying that other sex workers relished being in wills because it was the ultimate proof that they were better than the men’s wives but that never mattered to her. Yet when the man she was in a relationship with for 10 years dies, she hopes that his wife confronts her about the money he gave her because she “has proof he cared for her.” The brief stories about her father and herself as a teenager reveal a ton about what’s going on in her brain as far as needing validation from men.
She claims that she doesn’t have the brain for “oblique long term schemes” or asking for men to pay bills for them, yet she spends the majority of this book on that same 10 year relationship, clearly long term, and worries how she will pay bills when he dies because his money has been her only income for an unclear amount of time.
And she spent a ton of time claiming she didn’t love that man, and then spent nearly an entire book telling us about that relationship instead of about sex work in general and her experiences with that.
Look, we had a really great discussion about this book, and arguably it’s not actually bad. It’s just zero percent what it’s advertised to be.
"When I was a girl basking in platonic intimacy with boys, I thought there might be one foolproof pattern, a particular approach or act or attitude that would illuminate everything at once: respect, candor, commitment, lust. After so much questing for experience, I don’t think there is."
3.5. This is not a "tender reckoning of what it means to be a heterosexual woman and a feminist in a misogynistic society." Instead, it's a mostly-linear narrative about the author's early sexual experiences, her relationships to the most important men in her life, and her foray into sex work. It is meandering and not particularly detailed, but Shane offers some astute observations about fetishes, nontraditional relationships, intimacy, and the logistics behind SW.
Shane is an anthropologist of sorts, experimenting sexually with close male friends as a means to boost her ego and solidify her identity as a 'sexy' woman. She's unashamed by her love of boys and men, their bodies, and the kind of freedom they embody that is not societally allowed for women. She tries a variety of SW before settling on full-service escorting, eventually meeting a client who she maintains a relationship with for a decade. The most interesting (albeit surface level) passages are about their meetings, though she ends the book with very disjointed missives about her husband.
I can appreciate any memoir if I feel the author is being honest, especially when they offer contradictory perspectives. I didn't jive with several of Shane's assumptions about her clients' wives, or the weird comparisons she makes between herself and Britney Spears, or how hellbent she is on keeping her audience at a distance despite writing a memoir. But I've yet to come across a story from an SW who chooses her profession mostly out of pure desire so it lends a legitimacy to SW/SWers (all consensual SW is legitimate) that makes it worth adding to your tbr.
i’m a sex worker finally diving into what i’m calling “whore lit” which is exactly what it sounds like = literature by, for, and/or about whores. an honest woman by charlotte shane was my first stop.
first of all, 3.20 stars????? be serious. that feels way too harsh. it’s under 150 pages and was entertaining enough to finish in one sitting. i’m convinced most of the low ratings came from squares who just don’t get it.
the memoir follows charlotte’s early sexual awakenings, what led her into sex work, and stories that range from funny to surprisingly tender (particularly the stories about “roger”).
charlotte’s gateway into sex work was basically that she was EXTREMELY HORNY which is not exactly my origin story. clients will LOVE this book for that reason as it feeds into the fantasy of “she just loves it” while the majority of us are like “BITCH PLEASE” lol.
some criticisms i read said that she was disrespectful towards wives but i didn’t see that at all. that section just reflected the messy, complicated emotions most of us have navigated in this line of work.
the final chapter about meeting her husband on tinder felt a bit disconnected from the rest of the memoir but overall this was a sharp, funny, and deeply human read. a fascinating look at early 2000s sex work when craigslist and flip phones were the main marketing tools.
in short: whore lit starter pack approved. shoutout to charlotte for pointing out that sooooo many damn clients are named john, mike, or steve LMAOO.