What do you think?
Rate this book
Exposure: A Sociologist Explores Sex, Society, and Adult Entertainment
''I was going to speak to the porn industry, both because it was made up of people who deserved to have their voices heard . . . and because no one else had the guts to.'' In A Sociologist Explores Sex, Society, and Adult Entertainment, Chauntelle Tibbals, PhD, exposes readers to one of the most mysterious businesses and significant subcultures shaping our modern world - porn. Like it or not, adult entertainment partially shapes who we are as a society. And we as a society help shape it right back. Porn takes on our sexual desires and dreams, often in ways that we're uncomfortable with. Dr. Chauntelle takes us through her own evolution - from precocious Southern California girl to marginalized sociology PhD student to renowned adult industry expert. She shares her adventures and observations - often hilarious, occasionally heartbreaking, and always enlightening - in order to give us a nuanced look at a community that's simultaneously influential and reviled, powerful and stigmatized. From the altered reality of pornographic film sets to wildly inappropriate fans at trade shows, Dr. Chauntelle has seen it all. And she will be the first person to tell The adult industry is nothing like you'd expect. It's a world that deals in sex and is shrouded in mystery but is ultimately no different from any other.
194 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 7, 2015
12 people are currently reading
476 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews
May 10, 2020
(Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC. A slightly shorter review - where I don't explain some of the chapters - was sent to the publisher).
This is not a non-fiction book about the porn industry. It’s a memoir. I never thought of it, but there’s a huge difference between those two. A memoir is sort of a non-fiction book, but where you expect personal details, stories and experiences from a memoir, you’ll be upset to find them occurring too frequently in a non-fiction book – especially one you hoped would be somewhat scientific. If you, like me, expected a more research heavy, objective and substantial look at an industry a lot of us have a few preconceived notions about, then this is not it. It’s not an exposé, it’s an exploration, but not a scientific exploration, you’re not Charles Darwin, you’re Marco Polo (without the exaggerations).
So this is a collection of anecdotes and stories about Tibbals’ experiences studying, researching and understanding the adult content industry. All of these stories are apparently supposed to show us something about porn, that we might not have known or been mistaken about. She’s very adamant that porn is not a ‘bad thing’ as so many people seem to believe, but that it deserves respectful consideration (as does, she says, everything that impacts our culture).
She’s not wrong, but if what she really wanted to do with this book was show the broader public a new ‘truth’ about pornography and the people working in the industry, she might have done a better job if she’d written a different book. In the end, this seemed like nothing more than a way for her to talk about herself, her own struggles in being taken seriously by the academic world with a topic involving porn, and look back on the road it took her to rid herself of her own prejudices and become educated on the workings of the industry. She doesn’t forward that education, though. Leaving out any semblance of objective data and only referencing her own research (without telling us where to find it) or the research of others (that she mostly doesn’t take seriously), I’m supposed to take her word that what she tells me is the truth, for no other reason than that she’s been on so many porn sets and talked to so many people from the industry and she’s now an ‘expert’, I’m sure she is, but she’s also very biased. Plus, I would rather hear what all those other people have to say, but we’re not that lucky.
In the description it says: "I was going to speak to the porn industry, both because it was made up of people who deserved to have their voices heard . . . and because no one else had the guts to."
Alright, pat yourself on the back there a little, it’s very nice you want to listen to people who the general public are extremely prejudiced towards, paint yourself as the lone warrior. Her goal is worthy, though, and I absolutely do think we need a more nuanced understanding of porn, but honestly, you don’t actually let their voices be heard, just your own.
Before I go on, I want to make sure that if you ever do read this book, you keep in mind it’s extremely US-centric. No mention is made, at any point, of how porn works or what the conditions are like in any other place but the US, and in the US she focuses primarily on the core of the porn industry, Porn Valley. It’s presented as being universal and all encompassing, but it’s not. Porn’s bad reputation within the US and – I assume – many western countries, may be largely undeserved (or maybe not), but that doesn’t mean it’s the same in other less forgiving, less open-minded countries. I don’t know anything about that, not before this book and not after.
If you look at this book as a memoir, as something that wants nothing more than to be a light, entertaining, shallow read, that’ll educate you minimally on social justice issues and give you a slightly broader, more sympathetic understanding of porn, then it’s an alright book. Tibbals is a little too self-indulgent and bordering-on-braggy at times for my taste, which put me off as a reader, and she kept bringing up her roots in social justice and feminism to explain why she felt very strongly towards certain things. It was odd and didn’t feel very sincere. Actually it felt condescending a lot of the time, as if she had to have a better understand of all these issues than other people, at least if it relates to porn, and perhaps that’s why this book is so superficial.
It’s not just you. I promise you at least half the planet has had the same groundbreaking thought. She might honestly just not have thought her readers would share her knowledge and understanding of social issues. And this book is marketed to those who actually don’t know anything, and then it might work. For everyone else, it’s just not substantial enough to be worth your time. Sometimes she’ll tell you what she’s wearing to a particular event, how she almost fell asleep on set, what kind of food she had for lunch with a friend, experiences at a porn convention that add absolutely nothing to our understanding of porn conventions. You know, interesting, important things.
The problem, the main problem (there are many smaller problems), is that it lacks depth. Tibbals brings up numerous issues, within the industry itself, with how the public perceives that industry, and so on, some are pretty bland, while others are truly interesting and important, but then she does nothing with any of them.
Let me give examples.
At one point she talks about piracy, and that tube sites containing pirated content are the main reason the porn industry has been struggling. This is incredibly interesting for many reasons. First of all because, as she makes clear way too late in the book, there’s a difference between the professional, legal porn industry and things such a filmed child abuse and content filmed without consent. But with the professional industry suffering might it not result in way more low-quality, low-budget porn productions that may not be as regulated as those made by the legit industry. Might it not invite more cases of people being coerced/forced into it, or being filmed without knowledge or consent? More cases of the performers being abused or mistreated? Of low workplace ethics? I’m not, in the end, particularly prejudiced against high quality porn films and productions, I am, however, extremely wary of those shitty porn videos you can find on online sites. Tibbals doesn’t talk about this or the ramifications of the decline in consumers buying products outside of the obvious economic issues.
Another instance is a chapter on how no one pays attention to the men in porn. Women’s rights are fought for and the female performers workplace conditions and how much they’re paid is something everyone’s vigilant about, not so with men. No one ever talks about whether or not it’s fulfilling or fair for them, and the pressure they might face and so on. This was an eye-opener for me, and something I hadn’t considered. In the end Tibbals doesn’t consider it very much either, the chapter ends with her saying “No one ever pays attention to the guys in porn.” No, apparently no one does, and neither did you, not really. It was just mentioned.
There was a chapter on “tranny porn” and how the word “tranny” makes her uncomfortable, but Tibbals has to acquiesce that people can identify and use whatever words they want to describe themselves within a community. This particular section could really have used some interviews, because it felt really wrong to listen to her blather on about how “tranny” felt wrong to her, but was still widely used by transgender/transsexual performers and as a genre description. There’s next to nothing about how the performers or transsexual viewers feel about this, which seems like a huge oversight when you’re a sociologist. In this chapter she also adds a comment from a friend of hers, who she’s asked about the topic, and he said that the majority of performers in this genre, that he’s seen, were Asian or Hispanic, and that they rarely get to do the penetrating – the structure of this type of porn is apparently similar in structure to much of mainstream porn. I thought for sure she was gonna pick up on the fact that the majority were Hispanic or Asian, but she doesn’t even mention it, instead she jumps straight to the part where he says it’s like mainstream porn. Why? That other part seems more or at least as significant.
However, it does give us this fantastic tidbit:
Those are the good parts, even if they’re merely glossed over, because they allow a peak into problems and issues I hadn’t thought to consider, and am now forced to consider on my own, because Tibbals certainly doesn’t do it.
There are also neutral parts, that don’t really offer anything. They make good stories, I suppose, but they don’t add much to deepen my understanding of porn or sex in any way. They may be there to show that working on or with porn is the same as working with anything else, that it’s a job and nothing special, that performers are the same as you and me, except they have sex for a living. Still, it doesn’t tell us a lot an informed mind wouldn’t already know.
Then there are bad parts. Parts that made me angry and where I felt she was being disrespectful for laughs, to end the chapters with a joke or because she was trying to add depth or perspective where it was out of place. Two such occasions where the chapters on Linda Lovelace and Traci Lords. Linda is fairly (in)famous and most people know her from “Deep Throat”, and may also know how she was abused by her husband and forced into productions that she didn’t really want to be in. She later became an anti-porn activist. Tibbals makes the point that using Linda’s case to support the anti-porno agenda is misguided, which is somewhat reasonable, but then she ends the chapter with this:
Maybe it’s just me, but it struck me as incredibly distasteful and rude. Despite mentioning what she did with her life afterwards, this is essentially what Tibbals boils her down to: a sexual skill. Not very feminist, is it?
The chapter on Traci Lords is, perhaps, even worse. Traci lied about her age and starred in a number of adult movies before she was 18 (in only one was she of US-legal age), and of course it was found out. All the movies she was in had to be retracted and burned (I didn’t know they did this, it’s very responsible), and a lot of companies lost a lot of money. It almost levelled the industry (to hear her speak of it). Again Tibbals makes some strong points about how no one in the industry knew of this, and how it must have felt to know you’ve unwittingly created and distributed what is essentially child pornography, to know you’ve had sex with someone underage. Probably not very good. But then Tibbals sort of blames Traci?
Let me tell you something, Chauntelle Tibbals, I might have known a lot of things when I was 16, but I was also dead fucking wrong about most of them. I did not have the capacity to think very much about the greater implications of my actions in a broad, conclusive perspective, and I was fairly clear headed and not desperate for money to buy drugs. She might have known it wasn’t a good idea, but to imply she would have understood exactly what she was doing and what the consequences might be for those involved (and worse: that she might have done it for the fame)… I’m not buying it. Oh, and this was an opportune moment to discuss if the industry has gotten better at verifying peoples ages before hiring them (one can hope), but it isn’t touched upon.
There are a lot of truly thought provoking things brought up, however briefly, in this book, more than those I’ve mentioned, but they’re just that: mentioned, quickly passed over to talk about something less significant. Add to that, that there’s nothing to back up her claims, despite that she must have years of research and data to show us, she constantly mentions allegations and claims against porn others have made, but they’re not backed up by anything either. It’s a mess of “I say, they say, but I’m right, because of this story that you will have to take my word for”. I don’t think she’s lying about anything, that’s not what I’m saying, I think it’s all true (to the extent her memory allows it), I just wish she’d been more in depth and scientific and less judgemental and condescending in her presentation.
Ultimatively, Tibbals wants to get to the point that porn can isn’t inherently bad, and that it isn’t as big an influence on us as we think; that pornography doesn’t impact us in a harmful way, or leads to abuse of women (or abuses women), which I think is a fair and relevant point. On the other hand, most of this book is about how porn does affect us, because otherwise, why would it be important? Why do we need to talk about it if it doesn’t do anything? To hear her talk about unhinged, creepy fans (and there are a lot), whether or not sex toys might influence men and women’s perception of themselves, the interchanging of gender roles when it comes to pegging and so on, it’s clear something is up. Society and our culture clearly influences porn, so why should we assume it doesn’t influence us right back? I admire Tibbals idea, her passion to show that porn is not villainous or evil, that it’s complex and a reflection of social issues and cultural phenomena, that it’s worthy of consideration.
She really just should have written a better book. A book that was less about her and more about the subject, fewer personal anecdotes, more interviews or research. I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone, unless they genuinely had no idea about social issues at large and I somehow figured they’d learn better if they read about it in relation to porn. I don’t think it’ll happen a lot.
This is of course solely based on this particular book. Chauntelle Tibbals has a blog as well (it stopped in 2014, but you can look through the archive) and a website, if you want to know more or keep updated.
This is not a non-fiction book about the porn industry. It’s a memoir. I never thought of it, but there’s a huge difference between those two. A memoir is sort of a non-fiction book, but where you expect personal details, stories and experiences from a memoir, you’ll be upset to find them occurring too frequently in a non-fiction book – especially one you hoped would be somewhat scientific. If you, like me, expected a more research heavy, objective and substantial look at an industry a lot of us have a few preconceived notions about, then this is not it. It’s not an exposé, it’s an exploration, but not a scientific exploration, you’re not Charles Darwin, you’re Marco Polo (without the exaggerations).
So this is a collection of anecdotes and stories about Tibbals’ experiences studying, researching and understanding the adult content industry. All of these stories are apparently supposed to show us something about porn, that we might not have known or been mistaken about. She’s very adamant that porn is not a ‘bad thing’ as so many people seem to believe, but that it deserves respectful consideration (as does, she says, everything that impacts our culture).
She’s not wrong, but if what she really wanted to do with this book was show the broader public a new ‘truth’ about pornography and the people working in the industry, she might have done a better job if she’d written a different book. In the end, this seemed like nothing more than a way for her to talk about herself, her own struggles in being taken seriously by the academic world with a topic involving porn, and look back on the road it took her to rid herself of her own prejudices and become educated on the workings of the industry. She doesn’t forward that education, though. Leaving out any semblance of objective data and only referencing her own research (without telling us where to find it) or the research of others (that she mostly doesn’t take seriously), I’m supposed to take her word that what she tells me is the truth, for no other reason than that she’s been on so many porn sets and talked to so many people from the industry and she’s now an ‘expert’, I’m sure she is, but she’s also very biased. Plus, I would rather hear what all those other people have to say, but we’re not that lucky.
In the description it says: "I was going to speak to the porn industry, both because it was made up of people who deserved to have their voices heard . . . and because no one else had the guts to."
Alright, pat yourself on the back there a little, it’s very nice you want to listen to people who the general public are extremely prejudiced towards, paint yourself as the lone warrior. Her goal is worthy, though, and I absolutely do think we need a more nuanced understanding of porn, but honestly, you don’t actually let their voices be heard, just your own.
Before I go on, I want to make sure that if you ever do read this book, you keep in mind it’s extremely US-centric. No mention is made, at any point, of how porn works or what the conditions are like in any other place but the US, and in the US she focuses primarily on the core of the porn industry, Porn Valley. It’s presented as being universal and all encompassing, but it’s not. Porn’s bad reputation within the US and – I assume – many western countries, may be largely undeserved (or maybe not), but that doesn’t mean it’s the same in other less forgiving, less open-minded countries. I don’t know anything about that, not before this book and not after.
If you look at this book as a memoir, as something that wants nothing more than to be a light, entertaining, shallow read, that’ll educate you minimally on social justice issues and give you a slightly broader, more sympathetic understanding of porn, then it’s an alright book. Tibbals is a little too self-indulgent and bordering-on-braggy at times for my taste, which put me off as a reader, and she kept bringing up her roots in social justice and feminism to explain why she felt very strongly towards certain things. It was odd and didn’t feel very sincere. Actually it felt condescending a lot of the time, as if she had to have a better understand of all these issues than other people, at least if it relates to porn, and perhaps that’s why this book is so superficial.
“I sometimes wish that, rather than trying to convince themselves something is real or fake, people would simply experience the creation, whatever it is. But maybe that’s just me.“
It’s not just you. I promise you at least half the planet has had the same groundbreaking thought. She might honestly just not have thought her readers would share her knowledge and understanding of social issues. And this book is marketed to those who actually don’t know anything, and then it might work. For everyone else, it’s just not substantial enough to be worth your time. Sometimes she’ll tell you what she’s wearing to a particular event, how she almost fell asleep on set, what kind of food she had for lunch with a friend, experiences at a porn convention that add absolutely nothing to our understanding of porn conventions. You know, interesting, important things.
The problem, the main problem (there are many smaller problems), is that it lacks depth. Tibbals brings up numerous issues, within the industry itself, with how the public perceives that industry, and so on, some are pretty bland, while others are truly interesting and important, but then she does nothing with any of them.
Let me give examples.
At one point she talks about piracy, and that tube sites containing pirated content are the main reason the porn industry has been struggling. This is incredibly interesting for many reasons. First of all because, as she makes clear way too late in the book, there’s a difference between the professional, legal porn industry and things such a filmed child abuse and content filmed without consent. But with the professional industry suffering might it not result in way more low-quality, low-budget porn productions that may not be as regulated as those made by the legit industry. Might it not invite more cases of people being coerced/forced into it, or being filmed without knowledge or consent? More cases of the performers being abused or mistreated? Of low workplace ethics? I’m not, in the end, particularly prejudiced against high quality porn films and productions, I am, however, extremely wary of those shitty porn videos you can find on online sites. Tibbals doesn’t talk about this or the ramifications of the decline in consumers buying products outside of the obvious economic issues.
Another instance is a chapter on how no one pays attention to the men in porn. Women’s rights are fought for and the female performers workplace conditions and how much they’re paid is something everyone’s vigilant about, not so with men. No one ever talks about whether or not it’s fulfilling or fair for them, and the pressure they might face and so on. This was an eye-opener for me, and something I hadn’t considered. In the end Tibbals doesn’t consider it very much either, the chapter ends with her saying “No one ever pays attention to the guys in porn.” No, apparently no one does, and neither did you, not really. It was just mentioned.
There was a chapter on “tranny porn” and how the word “tranny” makes her uncomfortable, but Tibbals has to acquiesce that people can identify and use whatever words they want to describe themselves within a community. This particular section could really have used some interviews, because it felt really wrong to listen to her blather on about how “tranny” felt wrong to her, but was still widely used by transgender/transsexual performers and as a genre description. There’s next to nothing about how the performers or transsexual viewers feel about this, which seems like a huge oversight when you’re a sociologist. In this chapter she also adds a comment from a friend of hers, who she’s asked about the topic, and he said that the majority of performers in this genre, that he’s seen, were Asian or Hispanic, and that they rarely get to do the penetrating – the structure of this type of porn is apparently similar in structure to much of mainstream porn. I thought for sure she was gonna pick up on the fact that the majority were Hispanic or Asian, but she doesn’t even mention it, instead she jumps straight to the part where he says it’s like mainstream porn. Why? That other part seems more or at least as significant.
However, it does give us this fantastic tidbit:
“After some back and forth, adjustments were made, and the Transsexual Performer of the Year award is now announced on stage alongside its Male Performer of the Year and Female Performer of the Year counterparts.”
Those are the good parts, even if they’re merely glossed over, because they allow a peak into problems and issues I hadn’t thought to consider, and am now forced to consider on my own, because Tibbals certainly doesn’t do it.
There are also neutral parts, that don’t really offer anything. They make good stories, I suppose, but they don’t add much to deepen my understanding of porn or sex in any way. They may be there to show that working on or with porn is the same as working with anything else, that it’s a job and nothing special, that performers are the same as you and me, except they have sex for a living. Still, it doesn’t tell us a lot an informed mind wouldn’t already know.
Then there are bad parts. Parts that made me angry and where I felt she was being disrespectful for laughs, to end the chapters with a joke or because she was trying to add depth or perspective where it was out of place. Two such occasions where the chapters on Linda Lovelace and Traci Lords. Linda is fairly (in)famous and most people know her from “Deep Throat”, and may also know how she was abused by her husband and forced into productions that she didn’t really want to be in. She later became an anti-porn activist. Tibbals makes the point that using Linda’s case to support the anti-porno agenda is misguided, which is somewhat reasonable, but then she ends the chapter with this:
“(…) for better or worse, she did have an amazing physical ability that many have tried to emulate. Though I certainly feel it necessary to call attention to the gender and sexuality inequality issues that may somehow compel a person to swallow an entire penis, the fact remains that the lady had skills.”
Maybe it’s just me, but it struck me as incredibly distasteful and rude. Despite mentioning what she did with her life afterwards, this is essentially what Tibbals boils her down to: a sexual skill. Not very feminist, is it?
The chapter on Traci Lords is, perhaps, even worse. Traci lied about her age and starred in a number of adult movies before she was 18 (in only one was she of US-legal age), and of course it was found out. All the movies she was in had to be retracted and burned (I didn’t know they did this, it’s very responsible), and a lot of companies lost a lot of money. It almost levelled the industry (to hear her speak of it). Again Tibbals makes some strong points about how no one in the industry knew of this, and how it must have felt to know you’ve unwittingly created and distributed what is essentially child pornography, to know you’ve had sex with someone underage. Probably not very good. But then Tibbals sort of blames Traci?
“And yet, I still feel rather ambivalent about her. In my opinion, a child cannot be held accountable for decisions in the same way that an adult should, especially if there is a parent figure or a grown-up encouraging the exceptionally poor ones. At the same time, to assume that kids are too stupid or incapable of understanding the consequences of their actions in adolescence, even just a little . . . well, that’s just ridiculous. (…) By her own account, she knew what she was doing, and she knew it was a less-than-good idea. (Or was it? Where would her career be today without the fuel of her infamy?) I wonder, though, if she blames herself. Was it her fault? Totally? Partially? Is fault even relevant at this point?”
Let me tell you something, Chauntelle Tibbals, I might have known a lot of things when I was 16, but I was also dead fucking wrong about most of them. I did not have the capacity to think very much about the greater implications of my actions in a broad, conclusive perspective, and I was fairly clear headed and not desperate for money to buy drugs. She might have known it wasn’t a good idea, but to imply she would have understood exactly what she was doing and what the consequences might be for those involved (and worse: that she might have done it for the fame)… I’m not buying it. Oh, and this was an opportune moment to discuss if the industry has gotten better at verifying peoples ages before hiring them (one can hope), but it isn’t touched upon.
There are a lot of truly thought provoking things brought up, however briefly, in this book, more than those I’ve mentioned, but they’re just that: mentioned, quickly passed over to talk about something less significant. Add to that, that there’s nothing to back up her claims, despite that she must have years of research and data to show us, she constantly mentions allegations and claims against porn others have made, but they’re not backed up by anything either. It’s a mess of “I say, they say, but I’m right, because of this story that you will have to take my word for”. I don’t think she’s lying about anything, that’s not what I’m saying, I think it’s all true (to the extent her memory allows it), I just wish she’d been more in depth and scientific and less judgemental and condescending in her presentation.
Ultimatively, Tibbals wants to get to the point that porn can isn’t inherently bad, and that it isn’t as big an influence on us as we think; that pornography doesn’t impact us in a harmful way, or leads to abuse of women (or abuses women), which I think is a fair and relevant point. On the other hand, most of this book is about how porn does affect us, because otherwise, why would it be important? Why do we need to talk about it if it doesn’t do anything? To hear her talk about unhinged, creepy fans (and there are a lot), whether or not sex toys might influence men and women’s perception of themselves, the interchanging of gender roles when it comes to pegging and so on, it’s clear something is up. Society and our culture clearly influences porn, so why should we assume it doesn’t influence us right back? I admire Tibbals idea, her passion to show that porn is not villainous or evil, that it’s complex and a reflection of social issues and cultural phenomena, that it’s worthy of consideration.
She really just should have written a better book. A book that was less about her and more about the subject, fewer personal anecdotes, more interviews or research. I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone, unless they genuinely had no idea about social issues at large and I somehow figured they’d learn better if they read about it in relation to porn. I don’t think it’ll happen a lot.
This is of course solely based on this particular book. Chauntelle Tibbals has a blog as well (it stopped in 2014, but you can look through the archive) and a website, if you want to know more or keep updated.
September 21, 2019
This book is not, as the title makes it sound, a scholarly exploration of the pornography industry. It's also not, as you might think from reading the reviews, a memoir about experience in the pornography industry. It's a memoir about studying the pornography industry, and it's not very memorable.
Dr. Tibbals talks a lot about what the research process was like and shares some personal anecdotes and musings, but she doesn't include any actual stats, results, conclusions--anything but HER opinions and experiences, really. It's just the academic community not respecting her genius as she watches a lot of porn and laughs at how uncomfortable it used to make her.
She finds the idea that porn consumption must have an impact on actual sex as logical as assuming "The Fast and The Furious series of films then also must have had a significant impact on consumers' driving"--but gives no reason for that conclusion at all. She mentions often that she's a feminist, but doesn't explore the feminist perspective on porn. She keeps saying that porn actors are real people, but doesn't introduce us to them.
Even if those things HAD been explored, her studies were strictly limited to the professional porn industry, which she admits is quickly becoming irrelevant in the face of unlimited free pornography--so it's a pretty narrow view of the subject regardless.
Not much substance here.
(I received this book for free from a Goodreads giveaway.)
Dr. Tibbals talks a lot about what the research process was like and shares some personal anecdotes and musings, but she doesn't include any actual stats, results, conclusions--anything but HER opinions and experiences, really. It's just the academic community not respecting her genius as she watches a lot of porn and laughs at how uncomfortable it used to make her.
She finds the idea that porn consumption must have an impact on actual sex as logical as assuming "The Fast and The Furious series of films then also must have had a significant impact on consumers' driving"--but gives no reason for that conclusion at all. She mentions often that she's a feminist, but doesn't explore the feminist perspective on porn. She keeps saying that porn actors are real people, but doesn't introduce us to them.
Even if those things HAD been explored, her studies were strictly limited to the professional porn industry, which she admits is quickly becoming irrelevant in the face of unlimited free pornography--so it's a pretty narrow view of the subject regardless.
Not much substance here.
(I received this book for free from a Goodreads giveaway.)
May 22, 2015
Full Disclosure: I received a copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for a review.
Dr. Chauntelle Tibbals writes about her experiences studying the adult entertainment industry while working PhD and after receiving it. The book is more of a memoir than anything scientific. I actually requested it because I thought it would be studies and a little bit more data but it was not and I found that a little misleading based on the title.
Overall, it was a very basic intro from a sociologist's insight into the adult film industry and it is written for majority of the population not for someone who is interested or has studied in any of the social sciences fields.
Dr. Chauntelle Tibbals writes about her experiences studying the adult entertainment industry while working PhD and after receiving it. The book is more of a memoir than anything scientific. I actually requested it because I thought it would be studies and a little bit more data but it was not and I found that a little misleading based on the title.
Overall, it was a very basic intro from a sociologist's insight into the adult film industry and it is written for majority of the population not for someone who is interested or has studied in any of the social sciences fields.
January 16, 2021
This book was the first step is breaking away the shame I had inside for my own job in the sex work industry! I never knew all the ways society contributed to my shame until reading this! Dr. Tibbals uses academic studies to talk about the adult entertainment industry and provides you with essential information when discussing the topic with your peers.
lost-interest
December 26, 2025 (The English review is placed beneath the Russian one)
В книге слишком много биографии автора и слишком мало непосредственно анализа порнографии через призму социологии как то обещает название книги. Так же у меня возникло ощущение, что автор так и не решила для себя, на какую тему она пишет книгу: свою собственную биографию и своё восприятие порнографии или восприятие порнографии всем обществом. Мне совершенно не интересно, что автор чувствовала, когда приобретала порнографическую видеопродукцию, ибо мне интересен был её взгляд на порнографию как профессионального социолога. Увы, книга наскучила мне быстрее, чем я успел добраться до профессионального анализа этой темы социологом. Впрочем, возможно этого анализа нет вообще в книге, и я правильно сделал, что бросил книгу на середине.
The book contains too much of the author's biography and too little direct analysis of pornography through the prism of sociology, as the title of the book promises. I also got the impression that the author never decided for herself what the subject of her book was: her own biography and her perception of pornography, or society's perception of pornography. I am not at all interested in how the author felt when she purchased pornographic video products, because I was interested in her view of pornography as a professional sociologist. Alas, I got bored with the book before I got to the sociologist's professional analysis of the topic. However, perhaps this analysis is not in the book at all, and I did the right thing by putting the book down halfway through.
В книге слишком много биографии автора и слишком мало непосредственно анализа порнографии через призму социологии как то обещает название книги. Так же у меня возникло ощущение, что автор так и не решила для себя, на какую тему она пишет книгу: свою собственную биографию и своё восприятие порнографии или восприятие порнографии всем обществом. Мне совершенно не интересно, что автор чувствовала, когда приобретала порнографическую видеопродукцию, ибо мне интересен был её взгляд на порнографию как профессионального социолога. Увы, книга наскучила мне быстрее, чем я успел добраться до профессионального анализа этой темы социологом. Впрочем, возможно этого анализа нет вообще в книге, и я правильно сделал, что бросил книгу на середине.
The book contains too much of the author's biography and too little direct analysis of pornography through the prism of sociology, as the title of the book promises. I also got the impression that the author never decided for herself what the subject of her book was: her own biography and her perception of pornography, or society's perception of pornography. I am not at all interested in how the author felt when she purchased pornographic video products, because I was interested in her view of pornography as a professional sociologist. Alas, I got bored with the book before I got to the sociologist's professional analysis of the topic. However, perhaps this analysis is not in the book at all, and I did the right thing by putting the book down halfway through.
July 20, 2015
http://ensuingchapters.com/2015/07/18...
From the opening essay in Exposure, you will laugh (a lot) and you will cringe (occasionally). Which is appropriate. After all, this is a book about porn — that laugh- and cringe-inducing industry of id. It’s the shadow market force that accelerates tech innovation and the economy as surely as it does libidos, and both mirrors and molds our culture in more ways than we realize.
Once relegated to shady theaters and sticky arcades, porn is now a billion-dollar business with crossover into the mainstream. Still, a stigma remains, and new hang-ups have emerged along with new media.
Chauntelle Tibbals, a sociologist specializing in gender, sex and media, is our guide through present-day Porn Valley in this collection of anecdotes, theories and observations from her decade-plus of researching the industry.
Tibbals is a prolific writer and commentator. In Exposure, she only skims the surface of her academic research, but you can find much of it online (and I highly recommend you do). Here, she gives us the broad strokes of the industry. Her essays raise more questions than they answer, and that’s the point. Pornography impacts us on many levels, and our relationship with it gets knotted up with our needs, values and feelings on gender, politics and social mores. Untangling these knots is beyond the scope of a single book.
Instead, Tibbals reveals the human side of adult entertainment that will reframe the way you think about the business — not in a judgemental way, but an intellectual one.
Tibbals traces her foray into porn scholarship to a provocative streak and a rejection of unscientific generalizations about adult entertainment. Sadly, she discovered this short-sightedness had infiltrated academia when her graduate advisor belittled her dissertation topic. However, this rebuke only further entrenched her scientific curiosity.
“Porn was capable of making people lose their common sense, analytic skills, and composure,” she writes. “It could scramble the smartest, most educated of brains. And that was it for me. I was hooked — porn for life.”
But it was more than the thrill of the maverick driving her interest. She was also fascinated with her own fear of pornography, which, once she delved deeper into the topic, she realized was actually a fear of “the socially constructed idea of it.”
Some of Tibbals’ finest work is when she’s exploring the meta-space between real and fantasy — real actors with fake personas having real sex presented as fantasy. What impact does this have on the performers? It’s complicated, of course, but the important thing is that Tibbals poses the question in a way that humanizes the participants.
Talk shows flock to porn-star tragedies and draw broad conclusions. Tibbals considers each performer as an individual being. One such star is Joanna Angel, a Rutgers graduate who runs her own production company and stars in its films. Tibbals found one of Angel’s more hardcore flicks to be both intense and empowering.
“It showed an educated woman business owner in control of exactly the kind of sex she wanted, all in order to make exactly the kind of creative product she wanted to sell.”
In her survey of the genre, Tibbals challenges her own assumptions of empowerment and exploitation. In spending time with performers and their fans at conventions, she confronts a complicated culture that she describes as “the strangest mix of human adoration and disgust.” There are earnest and endearing fans, but also stalkers, self-righteous assholes and seemingly well-intended folks who unconsciously break social norms (asking intimate questions or making lewd comments) simply because of the perceived intimacy they have with the performer.
And of course there are the insecure misogynists who simultaneously desire and degrade the women they adore, often in a flurry of bipolar comments (“I love you”/”You’re a whore”) on social media. As though porn actors didn’t have enough detractors on the outside, they also suffer the abuse of so-called fans who “slut-shame” them online.
And it’s not just anti-porn activists and misogynists who get in on the action. Media exploitation of the industry is as pernicious and predatory as it accuses Porn Valley of being.
Take as an example the recent documentary Hot Girls Wanted, which I enjoyed but which ultimately disappointed when it devolved into a patriarchal rescue narrative. The lead subject, Tressa, willingly and knowingly pursues a career in porn, but is infantilized by the documentarians. She starts dating a guy who is aware of what she does for a living, but then he whines about how her career is hurting him. He implores her to give up her job for him. Were you to replace “porn star” with any other occupation — say “ER surgeon” — the jealous, insecure boyfriend would be, at best, an unsympathetic character, if not an outright villain.
In Hot Girls Wanted, though, he is the white knight.
But don’t take my word for it. Tibbals happened to write a fantastic review for Uproxx, which explains the film’s failings far better than I could.
I have long been fascinated with this bizarro intersection of pornography, feminism and media, and Exposure did not disappoint. This book is proof of the importance of porn scholarship, and Tibbals’ is a welcome and needed voice in the field.
From the opening essay in Exposure, you will laugh (a lot) and you will cringe (occasionally). Which is appropriate. After all, this is a book about porn — that laugh- and cringe-inducing industry of id. It’s the shadow market force that accelerates tech innovation and the economy as surely as it does libidos, and both mirrors and molds our culture in more ways than we realize.
Once relegated to shady theaters and sticky arcades, porn is now a billion-dollar business with crossover into the mainstream. Still, a stigma remains, and new hang-ups have emerged along with new media.
Chauntelle Tibbals, a sociologist specializing in gender, sex and media, is our guide through present-day Porn Valley in this collection of anecdotes, theories and observations from her decade-plus of researching the industry.
Tibbals is a prolific writer and commentator. In Exposure, she only skims the surface of her academic research, but you can find much of it online (and I highly recommend you do). Here, she gives us the broad strokes of the industry. Her essays raise more questions than they answer, and that’s the point. Pornography impacts us on many levels, and our relationship with it gets knotted up with our needs, values and feelings on gender, politics and social mores. Untangling these knots is beyond the scope of a single book.
Instead, Tibbals reveals the human side of adult entertainment that will reframe the way you think about the business — not in a judgemental way, but an intellectual one.
Tibbals traces her foray into porn scholarship to a provocative streak and a rejection of unscientific generalizations about adult entertainment. Sadly, she discovered this short-sightedness had infiltrated academia when her graduate advisor belittled her dissertation topic. However, this rebuke only further entrenched her scientific curiosity.
“Porn was capable of making people lose their common sense, analytic skills, and composure,” she writes. “It could scramble the smartest, most educated of brains. And that was it for me. I was hooked — porn for life.”
But it was more than the thrill of the maverick driving her interest. She was also fascinated with her own fear of pornography, which, once she delved deeper into the topic, she realized was actually a fear of “the socially constructed idea of it.”
Some of Tibbals’ finest work is when she’s exploring the meta-space between real and fantasy — real actors with fake personas having real sex presented as fantasy. What impact does this have on the performers? It’s complicated, of course, but the important thing is that Tibbals poses the question in a way that humanizes the participants.
Talk shows flock to porn-star tragedies and draw broad conclusions. Tibbals considers each performer as an individual being. One such star is Joanna Angel, a Rutgers graduate who runs her own production company and stars in its films. Tibbals found one of Angel’s more hardcore flicks to be both intense and empowering.
“It showed an educated woman business owner in control of exactly the kind of sex she wanted, all in order to make exactly the kind of creative product she wanted to sell.”
In her survey of the genre, Tibbals challenges her own assumptions of empowerment and exploitation. In spending time with performers and their fans at conventions, she confronts a complicated culture that she describes as “the strangest mix of human adoration and disgust.” There are earnest and endearing fans, but also stalkers, self-righteous assholes and seemingly well-intended folks who unconsciously break social norms (asking intimate questions or making lewd comments) simply because of the perceived intimacy they have with the performer.
And of course there are the insecure misogynists who simultaneously desire and degrade the women they adore, often in a flurry of bipolar comments (“I love you”/”You’re a whore”) on social media. As though porn actors didn’t have enough detractors on the outside, they also suffer the abuse of so-called fans who “slut-shame” them online.
And it’s not just anti-porn activists and misogynists who get in on the action. Media exploitation of the industry is as pernicious and predatory as it accuses Porn Valley of being.
Take as an example the recent documentary Hot Girls Wanted, which I enjoyed but which ultimately disappointed when it devolved into a patriarchal rescue narrative. The lead subject, Tressa, willingly and knowingly pursues a career in porn, but is infantilized by the documentarians. She starts dating a guy who is aware of what she does for a living, but then he whines about how her career is hurting him. He implores her to give up her job for him. Were you to replace “porn star” with any other occupation — say “ER surgeon” — the jealous, insecure boyfriend would be, at best, an unsympathetic character, if not an outright villain.
In Hot Girls Wanted, though, he is the white knight.
But don’t take my word for it. Tibbals happened to write a fantastic review for Uproxx, which explains the film’s failings far better than I could.
I have long been fascinated with this bizarro intersection of pornography, feminism and media, and Exposure did not disappoint. This book is proof of the importance of porn scholarship, and Tibbals’ is a welcome and needed voice in the field.
April 21, 2015
Recently, I began following Chauntelle Tibbals through her Twitter account and podcast. When I learned that she had a book coming out, I was interested in reading it, so I was happy to see it available through NetGalley.
As a sociologist, Dr. Tibbals communicates in a manner that is accessible for the layperson. While she sometimes dips into sociological jargon, it does not impede the overall message that she communicates throughout the book.
Dr. Tibbals is clearly well-versed in the adult entertainment industry, having studied it for over a decade. But that study has not just been limited to the academic. As part of her research, she has worked at adult conventions, conducted countless interviews with those in the industry (performers, directors, and producers alike), and defended the industry as a whole when those in the mainstream would rather berate and mock it.
There's a phrase that Dr. Tibbals uses in her book that I think is particularly important--"social justice for the adult community." This is probably the last thing that most people consider when they think of (or consume) porn. But it's also something that's highly necessary, especially in a shifting landscape where adult performers are likely not in a position to achieve the level of financial success and security that their predecessors were, prior to the ubiquitous use of tube sites and piracy.
That's a point that I would have liked Dr. Tibbals to highlight more in depth. She does mention that the industry is not as financially lucrative as it used to be, pre-Internet, but I would have liked a more thorough examination of just how deeply (and in the various ways) performers are negatively affected by piracy and what this means for the future of the adult industry.
In addition to its commentary on the state of adult entertainment in general, the book is part memoir. Dr. Tibbals shares the extensive work she did in college while earning her PhD and the numerous barriers she faced--many of them from her mentors in academia, who simply couldn't understand why a "nice girl" like her would want to study porn.
Overall, I really enjoyed the book. It offers an interesting perspective of the porn business from someone who's closely associated with it, but not fully part of it (meaning she's not a performer, producer, or otherwise directly involved in content creation itself). The parts of the book that resonated the most with me are the human elements. Dr. Tibbals speaks without condescension or judgment when discussing the industry and the performers who comprise it.
When speaking about adult entertainment, much too often the analyses are on the extreme negative side. That is, the conventional notion that porn is a dark, dirty, seedy business that destroys lives. It's worth mentioning that Dr. Tibbals does acknowledge stories of infamous performers such as Linda Lovelace and Traci Lords. However, it's also worth mentioning that those experiences are probably not the norm. Additionally, it's also important to draw attention to the types of adult media that you might not hear about very often, such as feminist porn (no, that's really not an oxymoron) as well as porn for the target audience of women, often produced and/or directed by women.
Far too often, society treats the creation and consumption of porn as something to hide or feel shameful about. With her insight and candor, Dr. Tibbals reduces some of that social stigma and presents a different perspective: that in many ways, porn can actually be a healthy part of one's sexuality. Occasionally, it can even offer some social commentary. That acknowledgement, in the context of everyday life, is both noteworthy and empowering.
I received an advance copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for my review.
As a sociologist, Dr. Tibbals communicates in a manner that is accessible for the layperson. While she sometimes dips into sociological jargon, it does not impede the overall message that she communicates throughout the book.
Dr. Tibbals is clearly well-versed in the adult entertainment industry, having studied it for over a decade. But that study has not just been limited to the academic. As part of her research, she has worked at adult conventions, conducted countless interviews with those in the industry (performers, directors, and producers alike), and defended the industry as a whole when those in the mainstream would rather berate and mock it.
There's a phrase that Dr. Tibbals uses in her book that I think is particularly important--"social justice for the adult community." This is probably the last thing that most people consider when they think of (or consume) porn. But it's also something that's highly necessary, especially in a shifting landscape where adult performers are likely not in a position to achieve the level of financial success and security that their predecessors were, prior to the ubiquitous use of tube sites and piracy.
That's a point that I would have liked Dr. Tibbals to highlight more in depth. She does mention that the industry is not as financially lucrative as it used to be, pre-Internet, but I would have liked a more thorough examination of just how deeply (and in the various ways) performers are negatively affected by piracy and what this means for the future of the adult industry.
In addition to its commentary on the state of adult entertainment in general, the book is part memoir. Dr. Tibbals shares the extensive work she did in college while earning her PhD and the numerous barriers she faced--many of them from her mentors in academia, who simply couldn't understand why a "nice girl" like her would want to study porn.
Overall, I really enjoyed the book. It offers an interesting perspective of the porn business from someone who's closely associated with it, but not fully part of it (meaning she's not a performer, producer, or otherwise directly involved in content creation itself). The parts of the book that resonated the most with me are the human elements. Dr. Tibbals speaks without condescension or judgment when discussing the industry and the performers who comprise it.
When speaking about adult entertainment, much too often the analyses are on the extreme negative side. That is, the conventional notion that porn is a dark, dirty, seedy business that destroys lives. It's worth mentioning that Dr. Tibbals does acknowledge stories of infamous performers such as Linda Lovelace and Traci Lords. However, it's also worth mentioning that those experiences are probably not the norm. Additionally, it's also important to draw attention to the types of adult media that you might not hear about very often, such as feminist porn (no, that's really not an oxymoron) as well as porn for the target audience of women, often produced and/or directed by women.
Far too often, society treats the creation and consumption of porn as something to hide or feel shameful about. With her insight and candor, Dr. Tibbals reduces some of that social stigma and presents a different perspective: that in many ways, porn can actually be a healthy part of one's sexuality. Occasionally, it can even offer some social commentary. That acknowledgement, in the context of everyday life, is both noteworthy and empowering.
I received an advance copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for my review.
March 2, 2016
The title of this book suggests that it is written through the lens of sociology, while the fruity visual pun on the cover alludes to something a bit cheekier. Both are misleading. This is a memoir, plain and simple. Chauntelle Tibbals is indeed a sociologist, but this book isn’t about sociology; it is about personal experience with an occasional sharp left turn into essays on famously problematic figures in the porn industry.
Despite what the come-on cover may lead you to believe, there is nothing terribly risqué in this book. There is a lot of discussion about bias against porn (particularly in academia), much detail about Tibbals own academic pursuits, and the occasional visit to a porn set or sex shop as a means to show how boring they are once the seedy glamour is stripped away. The book itself is a loosely connected series of essays, more snapshots than study.
Once I recovered from my initial disappointment of the book not living up to the implications of its title, I actually rather enjoyed it. Tibbins is an engaging writer, her stories are often entertaining, and she certainly isn’t wrong when she says that American culture has an extremely fraught and unbalanced relationship with pornography. It’s very clear that her sympathies lie with the workers in the industry, but she dedicates an awful lot of page space to anecdotal proof that people “hate” pornography for unfounded reasons instead of unpacking those reasons in more nuanced ways. She also likes to use an issue to open an essay—like discussing the “condom controversy” in porn—only to use that as a segue into something completely different, and never return to the original issue. Sometimes she buried the lede so deeply, I had to return to the beginning to make sure I didn’t black out and lose a chunk of the narrative.
Should you be interested in a personal approach to becoming a sociologist specializing in porn, this will probably be moderately interesting. However, if you were hoping for some real, solid sociology, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.
(Cross-posted from Booklikes: http://atroskity.booklikes.com/post/1...)
Despite what the come-on cover may lead you to believe, there is nothing terribly risqué in this book. There is a lot of discussion about bias against porn (particularly in academia), much detail about Tibbals own academic pursuits, and the occasional visit to a porn set or sex shop as a means to show how boring they are once the seedy glamour is stripped away. The book itself is a loosely connected series of essays, more snapshots than study.
Once I recovered from my initial disappointment of the book not living up to the implications of its title, I actually rather enjoyed it. Tibbins is an engaging writer, her stories are often entertaining, and she certainly isn’t wrong when she says that American culture has an extremely fraught and unbalanced relationship with pornography. It’s very clear that her sympathies lie with the workers in the industry, but she dedicates an awful lot of page space to anecdotal proof that people “hate” pornography for unfounded reasons instead of unpacking those reasons in more nuanced ways. She also likes to use an issue to open an essay—like discussing the “condom controversy” in porn—only to use that as a segue into something completely different, and never return to the original issue. Sometimes she buried the lede so deeply, I had to return to the beginning to make sure I didn’t black out and lose a chunk of the narrative.
Should you be interested in a personal approach to becoming a sociologist specializing in porn, this will probably be moderately interesting. However, if you were hoping for some real, solid sociology, I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong place.
(Cross-posted from Booklikes: http://atroskity.booklikes.com/post/1...)
July 18, 2015
Geez, this was cute.
"Cute" may be a weird word to describe a book on porn, but whatever, it really is cute. Dr Chauntelle Tibbals is a sociology academic with a difference -- she earned her PhD studying porn. Or, rather, the cultural impact of porn. Nonetheless, she's spent her academic career stymied, notably by one particular university adviser who felt the need to shout at her, "Why do you want to watch people fuck, Chauntelle?"
That Tibbals is able to recount this and others of her humiliating/frustrating experiences with so much self-effacing humour is a large part of why this book works. Having so recently read another memoir where the author's personality seemed to be entirely absent, it was heartening to be able to get such a strong sense of Tibbals in Exposure. Her wit, her passion, her lovable weirdness, really jumps off the page.
Tibbals' personality is also important in grounding this book, which may prove difficult to categorize. It's easy to expect a doctor of sociology to have written a sociology book, but that's not what this is. It's also not the "exposé" on the porn industry that apparently some publishers wanted her to write. In fact, it reads more like a set of dinner party anecdotes -- all of which happen to relate to porn. (This does lend the book an air of "books that read like blog posts" -- part of a trend which is now so prevalent that I'm going to create a tag for it -- but it didn't affect my enjoyment.)
Smart, thoughtful and (yes) cute stuff. Recommended.
"Cute" may be a weird word to describe a book on porn, but whatever, it really is cute. Dr Chauntelle Tibbals is a sociology academic with a difference -- she earned her PhD studying porn. Or, rather, the cultural impact of porn. Nonetheless, she's spent her academic career stymied, notably by one particular university adviser who felt the need to shout at her, "Why do you want to watch people fuck, Chauntelle?"
That Tibbals is able to recount this and others of her humiliating/frustrating experiences with so much self-effacing humour is a large part of why this book works. Having so recently read another memoir where the author's personality seemed to be entirely absent, it was heartening to be able to get such a strong sense of Tibbals in Exposure. Her wit, her passion, her lovable weirdness, really jumps off the page.
Tibbals' personality is also important in grounding this book, which may prove difficult to categorize. It's easy to expect a doctor of sociology to have written a sociology book, but that's not what this is. It's also not the "exposé" on the porn industry that apparently some publishers wanted her to write. In fact, it reads more like a set of dinner party anecdotes -- all of which happen to relate to porn. (This does lend the book an air of "books that read like blog posts" -- part of a trend which is now so prevalent that I'm going to create a tag for it -- but it didn't affect my enjoyment.)
Smart, thoughtful and (yes) cute stuff. Recommended.
July 15, 2015
Don't be scared by the title, this isn't some dry academic read filled with charts, graphs, and chi square analysis, though I am a fan of those books too, no, this is an incredibly fun, funny, enlightening read about an industry that too often is stereotyped and caricatured. In fact, Dr. Chauntelle takes us on her journey from believing the caricatures to discovering the real people who make up this industry. While my work is mainly on the novelty side of the adult industry, I've met many adult stars and, they really are just regular people who choose to do this line of work. They have the same hopes, dreams, failures, foibles, and flaws as the rest of us. The fact that we still stigmatize sex work in this country is a travesty. At least there is hope with champions like Dr Chauntelle and the work she is doing. Pick up this book whatever your beliefs about porn and learn a little bit more about an industry that is both ubiquitous and rarely discussed.
June 16, 2015
An easy-to-read and enjoyable romp through the adult film industry.
Throughout every chapter I kept wishing that Dr. Tibbals had just give the book more. More information, more context, more sociological, cultural and feminist insight into this very interesting, but not often talked about, film genre.
Entertaining, yet superficial.
With thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC.
Throughout every chapter I kept wishing that Dr. Tibbals had just give the book more. More information, more context, more sociological, cultural and feminist insight into this very interesting, but not often talked about, film genre.
Entertaining, yet superficial.
With thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC.
November 8, 2021
The author writes constantly about how she wants to give a nuanced vision of porn, and not an extremist one, because everybody else just goes directly to all the negative stereotypes about it. However, that is not at all what she does with her book, she IS presenting a one-sided view of porn, where she only presents a completely positive view of the industry and hand-waves any criticism that could be levelled at it.
I am not a fan of porn, but I did go into this book with an open mind precisely because I wanted to read a nuanced description. I am not against porn as an industry theoretically, nor do I think pornography is inherently a bad thing, but just like in any other kind of industry, there are problems within it. And the author refuses to acknowledge this.
Before I get into the negative, I do have to say I did like her commentary on how academia is basically still an ivory tower and a complete scam for those of us who can't afford it. And how it's elitist, and they don't entirely accept ideas that are outside of what has already been done. I thoroughly enjoyed the first couple of chapters because they dealt with all of this.
However, here's a list of some of the things that made me dislike this book (I didn't take notes, this is off the top of my head, there might be more):
- The author mentions that a company had yellowface in one of the films and defends this by essentially saying that no-one's perfect. This is the perfect example of what she constantly does throughout the book: she says she'll present a nuanced description, but her "nuance" is just saying "well, no-one's perfect, so let's hand-wave all the problematic stuff"
- The author writes that we can't use one example of a person whose life was affected by porn to draw conclusions about the whole industry, but then she does exactly that: she presents her own positive experiences as proof that the industry is good, actually.
- There are several instances where she mentions that performers were drug addicts, but draws no connection between that and the work they do, as if it was just a coincidence that this happens.
- The author defends "teen porn", as long as the performers are over 18, and her reasoning for this is basically that teenagers are already sexualized in many other ways in today's society, so why not in porn as well? And the answer to that is that THEY SHOULDN'T BE SEXUALIZED AT ALL!!! "Others do it, so why not us?" is not a good reason. In that same chapter, she proceeds to blame actual teenagers who have done porn without the knowledge of the poor company they were working for. She actually blames the teens for using fake IDs and feels bad for the companies who hired these teens. She also says that the age of consent is actually a completely arbitrary thing anyway, which is not true at all. Teens' brains aren't developed yet. That's why they shouldn't be having sex with adults, who can manipulate them and take advantage of them. Another reason she gives for why teen porn is ok is that teenagers have sexual desires of their own. Yeah, she conflates teens' right to explore their own sexuality on their own and with other people their age with grown men getting off on watching teenagers having sex. And again, let me reiterate that in this chapter where she mentions underage girls doing porn, SHE BLAMES THE GIRLS.
- In this portrayal of porn as a completely fine, not-at-all-seedy industry, she mentions several times actor James Deen, who has been accused of rape by co-stars. This book was published in 2015. Allegations against Deen date back to 2006. So yeah. There's absolutely NO MENTION of possible sexual violence in this industry, even though that's something we know happens because performers have talked about it. For a book which tries to present a realistic, nuanced view of the industry, it seems like a glaring omission. Also, while ignoring female performers' drug use and the sexual violence, she dedicates one chapter to how men are given the short end of the stick in this industry. And here's the thing: I would have liked that chapter about how men in porn are treated if the book was actually what it's supposed to be. But in a book where the author blames teen girls for appearing in porn, never talks about sexual violence, and hand-waves any problematic issues affecting women? Having a whole chapter dedicated to how men's problems are overlooked? Yikes. Also, she constantly talks about female performers as divas, never once going into how the industry treats women.
- The author dedicates her last chapter to defending why it was actually a good thing that in a panel she organized there were only white women. Yeah. Great look. It is a great ending for this book, though: she still refuses to acknowledge that she might be biased in any way, shape or form.
I'm sure there were more things I wasn't a fan of, but I can't think of any others right now. So there it is. What a disappointment this book was.
I am not a fan of porn, but I did go into this book with an open mind precisely because I wanted to read a nuanced description. I am not against porn as an industry theoretically, nor do I think pornography is inherently a bad thing, but just like in any other kind of industry, there are problems within it. And the author refuses to acknowledge this.
Before I get into the negative, I do have to say I did like her commentary on how academia is basically still an ivory tower and a complete scam for those of us who can't afford it. And how it's elitist, and they don't entirely accept ideas that are outside of what has already been done. I thoroughly enjoyed the first couple of chapters because they dealt with all of this.
However, here's a list of some of the things that made me dislike this book (I didn't take notes, this is off the top of my head, there might be more):
- The author mentions that a company had yellowface in one of the films and defends this by essentially saying that no-one's perfect. This is the perfect example of what she constantly does throughout the book: she says she'll present a nuanced description, but her "nuance" is just saying "well, no-one's perfect, so let's hand-wave all the problematic stuff"
- The author writes that we can't use one example of a person whose life was affected by porn to draw conclusions about the whole industry, but then she does exactly that: she presents her own positive experiences as proof that the industry is good, actually.
- There are several instances where she mentions that performers were drug addicts, but draws no connection between that and the work they do, as if it was just a coincidence that this happens.
- The author defends "teen porn", as long as the performers are over 18, and her reasoning for this is basically that teenagers are already sexualized in many other ways in today's society, so why not in porn as well? And the answer to that is that THEY SHOULDN'T BE SEXUALIZED AT ALL!!! "Others do it, so why not us?" is not a good reason. In that same chapter, she proceeds to blame actual teenagers who have done porn without the knowledge of the poor company they were working for. She actually blames the teens for using fake IDs and feels bad for the companies who hired these teens. She also says that the age of consent is actually a completely arbitrary thing anyway, which is not true at all. Teens' brains aren't developed yet. That's why they shouldn't be having sex with adults, who can manipulate them and take advantage of them. Another reason she gives for why teen porn is ok is that teenagers have sexual desires of their own. Yeah, she conflates teens' right to explore their own sexuality on their own and with other people their age with grown men getting off on watching teenagers having sex. And again, let me reiterate that in this chapter where she mentions underage girls doing porn, SHE BLAMES THE GIRLS.
- In this portrayal of porn as a completely fine, not-at-all-seedy industry, she mentions several times actor James Deen, who has been accused of rape by co-stars. This book was published in 2015. Allegations against Deen date back to 2006. So yeah. There's absolutely NO MENTION of possible sexual violence in this industry, even though that's something we know happens because performers have talked about it. For a book which tries to present a realistic, nuanced view of the industry, it seems like a glaring omission. Also, while ignoring female performers' drug use and the sexual violence, she dedicates one chapter to how men are given the short end of the stick in this industry. And here's the thing: I would have liked that chapter about how men in porn are treated if the book was actually what it's supposed to be. But in a book where the author blames teen girls for appearing in porn, never talks about sexual violence, and hand-waves any problematic issues affecting women? Having a whole chapter dedicated to how men's problems are overlooked? Yikes. Also, she constantly talks about female performers as divas, never once going into how the industry treats women.
- The author dedicates her last chapter to defending why it was actually a good thing that in a panel she organized there were only white women. Yeah. Great look. It is a great ending for this book, though: she still refuses to acknowledge that she might be biased in any way, shape or form.
I'm sure there were more things I wasn't a fan of, but I can't think of any others right now. So there it is. What a disappointment this book was.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 30, 2019
I chose to read this book for Sociology of Sexuality in my senior year of college. I found the book to be very insightful. Growing up in a liberal Catholic home, porn was not talked about. I always had this negative connotation with porn, the actors, producers and viewers. This book gives you an inside look into the industry without the framing of a conservative. This book is refreshing and inspiring to anyone who is interested in sociology. I would highly recommend that you just give it a try you may end up changing your mind about a few things.
January 5, 2019
Like others, I picked this up because the author is a sociologist (exploring). And like others, I felt it was more of a memoir than anything else. Unlike others who were disappointed by this fact I still found things to like (although there is a fair bit of throw-away, like the chapter about music and porn).
If the book had been any longer I wouldn't recommend it. But it's an easy read and does have a few interesting things to say.
If the book had been any longer I wouldn't recommend it. But it's an easy read and does have a few interesting things to say.
January 21, 2020
A daring compassionate book that never gives in to titillation or sensationalism. It’s a very personal story as much about the author’s struggle for academic acceptance as it is about the porn industry. Quick and well written. I’m a fan and will be checking out her other writing.
Want to read
March 6, 2025Available in my Kindle app from Netgalley
April 30, 2025
it’s a memoir and not a great one. not a sociological analysis
July 30, 2015
Dr. Chauntelle Tibbals, the self-titled Sociologist at Large, is a compelling person with an obvious passion for the people who make up the much maligned Porn Industry. Having left the ivory towers behind, she's hosted all manner of informative workshops, panels, and discussions exploring the industry, the culture, and the real people who go about their daily lives just like anybody else. Frequently, she's the instigator and moderator for these discussions, using her knowledge and research as a launching point for others to share their personal stories and insights. In Exposure: A Sociologist Explores Sex, Society, and Adult Entertainment, Dr. Chauntelle takes center stage, but can she carry this discussion on her own?
Exposure is certainly an ambitious endeavor, and attempts to be several different things at once. At some parts, the book is an autobiography of Dr. Chauntelle's trip from her own rebellious roots to a champion of understanding for the porn industry as a whole while, in others, she takes a back seat as she recounts first hand stories or research into the legends of the industry. At times, this book is an entertaining social analysis, at others it's a story of Chauntelle's intellectual growth, and still others it is an expose on the struggles of those in the industry. Unfortunately, this varies by chapter, making for an inconsistent tone when read en masse rather than one chapter at a time. The most consistent elements tying everything together throughout these stories are Chauntelle's musings and insights on the perceptions of society, frequently including herself, and the lessons she's learned as a result.
While each of the 20 chapters is entertaining and informative on its own, there isn't much of a throughline aside from these musings. Even then, barring the first few chapters, they don't seem to follow a cohesive pattern forming a train of thought. One chapter effectively shows how nobody really gives thought to the men in the porn industry and is followed by a chapter focusing on how even porn stars have sexual fantasies, but it does so without ever involving men. The previous chapter's conclusion that men get paid less, have equally tough jobs, and go pretty much unnoticed gives way to a chapter where a male performer is fantasized about, and then is immediately forgotten about as a person in lieu of being used as a word conceptualizing the variable ideal fantasies of porn stars. In another instance, a chapter about visiting a sex toy store for a bridal shower gift sits between a very in-depth look at the troubled tale of Traci Lords and a chapter about why Chauntelle didn't stay in academia.
Each chapter is compelling on its own, but there isn't any kind of narrative or flow of thought to be followed. Instead, we have what feels more like a series of short stories filtered through the lens of a particular person. Chauntelle's delivery of these stories is nuanced, insightful, and fair, making them worthy of consumption for those with an open mind, but the lack of a throughline and the relatively short chapters can make this a far less interesting read for those not already interested in the topic.
With that said, the topics discussed have the potential to be appealing to a wide segment of the audience. The exploration of the porn industry provides a deep look at the numerous double standards present in our society and how easily we fall prey to them, a concept that is applicable to anybody interested in sociology as a whole. Recounted tales of porn stars and their struggles delves into a breadth of feminist issues, including the objectification of women, and the dichotomy of power and vulnerability that comes as a result. Even the life of Chauntelle is an interesting look at the trials of post-graduate education and the difficulty of breaking new ground.
Exposure is an engaging book chapter by chapter where the greatest weakness is how these chapters were put together. It's a compelling read for those interested in porn's place in our society or in how marginalized groups can still have a huge impact while dealing with stigma. While not for everyone, it's a book filled with thoughtful insight, facts, and perspective for any budding social mind.
Exposure is certainly an ambitious endeavor, and attempts to be several different things at once. At some parts, the book is an autobiography of Dr. Chauntelle's trip from her own rebellious roots to a champion of understanding for the porn industry as a whole while, in others, she takes a back seat as she recounts first hand stories or research into the legends of the industry. At times, this book is an entertaining social analysis, at others it's a story of Chauntelle's intellectual growth, and still others it is an expose on the struggles of those in the industry. Unfortunately, this varies by chapter, making for an inconsistent tone when read en masse rather than one chapter at a time. The most consistent elements tying everything together throughout these stories are Chauntelle's musings and insights on the perceptions of society, frequently including herself, and the lessons she's learned as a result.
While each of the 20 chapters is entertaining and informative on its own, there isn't much of a throughline aside from these musings. Even then, barring the first few chapters, they don't seem to follow a cohesive pattern forming a train of thought. One chapter effectively shows how nobody really gives thought to the men in the porn industry and is followed by a chapter focusing on how even porn stars have sexual fantasies, but it does so without ever involving men. The previous chapter's conclusion that men get paid less, have equally tough jobs, and go pretty much unnoticed gives way to a chapter where a male performer is fantasized about, and then is immediately forgotten about as a person in lieu of being used as a word conceptualizing the variable ideal fantasies of porn stars. In another instance, a chapter about visiting a sex toy store for a bridal shower gift sits between a very in-depth look at the troubled tale of Traci Lords and a chapter about why Chauntelle didn't stay in academia.
Each chapter is compelling on its own, but there isn't any kind of narrative or flow of thought to be followed. Instead, we have what feels more like a series of short stories filtered through the lens of a particular person. Chauntelle's delivery of these stories is nuanced, insightful, and fair, making them worthy of consumption for those with an open mind, but the lack of a throughline and the relatively short chapters can make this a far less interesting read for those not already interested in the topic.
With that said, the topics discussed have the potential to be appealing to a wide segment of the audience. The exploration of the porn industry provides a deep look at the numerous double standards present in our society and how easily we fall prey to them, a concept that is applicable to anybody interested in sociology as a whole. Recounted tales of porn stars and their struggles delves into a breadth of feminist issues, including the objectification of women, and the dichotomy of power and vulnerability that comes as a result. Even the life of Chauntelle is an interesting look at the trials of post-graduate education and the difficulty of breaking new ground.
Exposure is an engaging book chapter by chapter where the greatest weakness is how these chapters were put together. It's a compelling read for those interested in porn's place in our society or in how marginalized groups can still have a huge impact while dealing with stigma. While not for everyone, it's a book filled with thoughtful insight, facts, and perspective for any budding social mind.
July 7, 2015
This review originally appeared on my blog at www.gimmethatbook.com.
Thanks to author Chauntelle Tibbals and NetGalley for offering this advance review copy! EXPOSURE will be published July 7, 2015.
If you are looking for a salacious, tell-all expose on the world of porn–this isn’t it. What it IS: an intelligent and thought provoking view into the business of sexy movies. Tibbals supports this world yet doesn’t agree with it fully, a concept I found refreshing. It’s difficult to walk that fine line between “not my kind of stuff” and revulsion, and the author maintains her position as IN the world, not OF it. This position helps to create credibility and honesty.
Censoring attitudes almost prevented Tibbals from obtaining her degree; her advisor was hostile and passive aggressive, her peers wondered what was wrong with her. Why is a nice girl like you getting involved with such filth is the undertone of the first part, as Tibbals details her struggle to defend her choices. I found it repugnant in this enlightened day and age, that an advisor could hold such power over a student’s choice, a choice that was not hurting anyone.
Good thing that Tibbals marched to the beat of her own drum. Eventually she found her way and began her thesis in earnest. Substitute any other subject for porn, and what you have is how she went about gathering information. As the industry accepted her, not as a gawker, but as a true supporter seeking understanding through knowledge, Tibbals befriended the megastars and watched literally hundreds of films. (Did you know they have their own version of the Oscars for porn films? I didn’t either.)
As she gained respect by showing respect, Tibbals found herself in many situations: watching films shot from behind the scenes, hanging out with some of the actors, and sitting as a judge for the aforementioned films awards. She explains her “walking the line” mentality with an anecdote about a movie that was esthetically sound, but directed by an unsavory character. She struggled with trying to separate the fact that she loathed the director while appreciating the film for what it was: shot beautifully, with a plot that made sense and was actually engaging to watch. I was quite impressed by her self awareness and willingness to share the truth, even if she didn’t personally approve/like it.
You must go into this book with an open mind, similar to the author watching those movies. As the blurb notes, porn is “just another business” and this is an insider’s view. Sex is such a hot button topic in America, and it shouldn’t be. I applaud the author’s temerity and her vociferous support for this area of our society; the part of our culture everyone has an opinion about, yet hesitates to defend.
This societal dichotomy persists with a section on how these porn stars are alternately worshipped and reviled: when the girls make appearances at trade shows (much like authors or sports figures do) their “fans” will wait in line to see them, fawning over their beauty. Once they get their audience with Tammy Tawdry, however, they will call them “sluts” or ask if their daddy is proud of what they do. This is a perfect example of the double standard and pervasive misogyny that is a staple of our society. Women walk a fine line with their sexuality; the male stars are purported as heroes with staying power, and the girls are just an object to be used. Tibbals is dead on with this chapter.
Her writing style is easy to follow and often humorous. She makes no apology for who she is or how she got there; and I found that refreshing and empowering. Being a maverick is often lonely and frustrating, but usually has its rewards. I sincerely hope Tibbals is recouping hers now.
Thanks to author Chauntelle Tibbals and NetGalley for offering this advance review copy! EXPOSURE will be published July 7, 2015.
If you are looking for a salacious, tell-all expose on the world of porn–this isn’t it. What it IS: an intelligent and thought provoking view into the business of sexy movies. Tibbals supports this world yet doesn’t agree with it fully, a concept I found refreshing. It’s difficult to walk that fine line between “not my kind of stuff” and revulsion, and the author maintains her position as IN the world, not OF it. This position helps to create credibility and honesty.
Censoring attitudes almost prevented Tibbals from obtaining her degree; her advisor was hostile and passive aggressive, her peers wondered what was wrong with her. Why is a nice girl like you getting involved with such filth is the undertone of the first part, as Tibbals details her struggle to defend her choices. I found it repugnant in this enlightened day and age, that an advisor could hold such power over a student’s choice, a choice that was not hurting anyone.
Good thing that Tibbals marched to the beat of her own drum. Eventually she found her way and began her thesis in earnest. Substitute any other subject for porn, and what you have is how she went about gathering information. As the industry accepted her, not as a gawker, but as a true supporter seeking understanding through knowledge, Tibbals befriended the megastars and watched literally hundreds of films. (Did you know they have their own version of the Oscars for porn films? I didn’t either.)
As she gained respect by showing respect, Tibbals found herself in many situations: watching films shot from behind the scenes, hanging out with some of the actors, and sitting as a judge for the aforementioned films awards. She explains her “walking the line” mentality with an anecdote about a movie that was esthetically sound, but directed by an unsavory character. She struggled with trying to separate the fact that she loathed the director while appreciating the film for what it was: shot beautifully, with a plot that made sense and was actually engaging to watch. I was quite impressed by her self awareness and willingness to share the truth, even if she didn’t personally approve/like it.
You must go into this book with an open mind, similar to the author watching those movies. As the blurb notes, porn is “just another business” and this is an insider’s view. Sex is such a hot button topic in America, and it shouldn’t be. I applaud the author’s temerity and her vociferous support for this area of our society; the part of our culture everyone has an opinion about, yet hesitates to defend.
This societal dichotomy persists with a section on how these porn stars are alternately worshipped and reviled: when the girls make appearances at trade shows (much like authors or sports figures do) their “fans” will wait in line to see them, fawning over their beauty. Once they get their audience with Tammy Tawdry, however, they will call them “sluts” or ask if their daddy is proud of what they do. This is a perfect example of the double standard and pervasive misogyny that is a staple of our society. Women walk a fine line with their sexuality; the male stars are purported as heroes with staying power, and the girls are just an object to be used. Tibbals is dead on with this chapter.
Her writing style is easy to follow and often humorous. She makes no apology for who she is or how she got there; and I found that refreshing and empowering. Being a maverick is often lonely and frustrating, but usually has its rewards. I sincerely hope Tibbals is recouping hers now.
July 14, 2015
I saw Exposure listed on NetGalley, and, being a guy, of course I was interested. A book about sex? Sweet! I'm all for learning about the porn industry. After all, sex sells, and yet it's such a taboo subject in our culture. Many people do it, and yet it's still frowned upon, talked in secret, and misinformation (or lack of information) is given to teenagers. So, Chauntelle Tibbals set out to explore the adult entertainment industry.
The book reads somewhat like a memoir, as Dr. Tibbals recalls what led her to investigate such a taboo topic and then goes on about her experiences, or, put fancily, "the sociocultural significance of adult entertainment as it relates to law, media, and gender." Although interesting, (and infrequently a little humorous) I felt that the book failed to do more than scratch the surface on some topics - more on that in a little bit. But for what this book actually is, I mostly enjoyed it.
There is no single topic about the adult industry that this book focuses on. It's a bit all over the place, beginning with how Dr. Tibbals got into this topic, to talking about the lives of some adults in the industry, then finishing off with some opinions.
The book did bring up some interesting things. One part I really got a kick out of because it's so true, is that people frown upon breast implants/any time of boob job. And yet we will correct our teeth with braces without giving it a second thought. A different body part, yes, but it's still being changed to our liking, just like some women will do with their breasts.
There's also some humorous parts, such as the author admitting to watching porn in an airport. Yes, reviewing porn is a job of hers, but still. Sheesh! I hope she at least had some headphones on.
Back to what I said earlier about scratching the surface. There's a lot of interesting topics that had so much potential but were instead quickly grazed over, such as piracy (tube sites). There was also the mentioning of the fact that nobody pays attention to the guy in porn. I felt that this topic could also have been explored in depth more. In comparison to the mentioning of tube sites/piracy this part was given a bit more of a writeup, recalling how a male porn star was unable to "finish", so, in addition to already being paid less than the co-starring female, he voluntarily took a pay deduction. Ouch.
Pornography is such a complex and broad subject that it's impossible to fit everything into a single book, but if we're just talking about the surface of things and intertwining personal narratives like this book does, I enjoyed it. I learnt a bit, such as that it's only legal to film porn for profit in California and New Hampshire.
Now let's hope my (quite religious) mother doesn't check my recent book reviews anytime soon, as she'd have a heart attack to know her oh-so-innocent son read a book about porn/sex. :-)
Note: I received a copy of this book for reviewing purposes. You can find more book reviews like this one at Devin's Book Hub.
The book reads somewhat like a memoir, as Dr. Tibbals recalls what led her to investigate such a taboo topic and then goes on about her experiences, or, put fancily, "the sociocultural significance of adult entertainment as it relates to law, media, and gender." Although interesting, (and infrequently a little humorous) I felt that the book failed to do more than scratch the surface on some topics - more on that in a little bit. But for what this book actually is, I mostly enjoyed it.
There is no single topic about the adult industry that this book focuses on. It's a bit all over the place, beginning with how Dr. Tibbals got into this topic, to talking about the lives of some adults in the industry, then finishing off with some opinions.
The book did bring up some interesting things. One part I really got a kick out of because it's so true, is that people frown upon breast implants/any time of boob job. And yet we will correct our teeth with braces without giving it a second thought. A different body part, yes, but it's still being changed to our liking, just like some women will do with their breasts.
There's also some humorous parts, such as the author admitting to watching porn in an airport. Yes, reviewing porn is a job of hers, but still. Sheesh! I hope she at least had some headphones on.
Back to what I said earlier about scratching the surface. There's a lot of interesting topics that had so much potential but were instead quickly grazed over, such as piracy (tube sites). There was also the mentioning of the fact that nobody pays attention to the guy in porn. I felt that this topic could also have been explored in depth more. In comparison to the mentioning of tube sites/piracy this part was given a bit more of a writeup, recalling how a male porn star was unable to "finish", so, in addition to already being paid less than the co-starring female, he voluntarily took a pay deduction. Ouch.
Pornography is such a complex and broad subject that it's impossible to fit everything into a single book, but if we're just talking about the surface of things and intertwining personal narratives like this book does, I enjoyed it. I learnt a bit, such as that it's only legal to film porn for profit in California and New Hampshire.
Now let's hope my (quite religious) mother doesn't check my recent book reviews anytime soon, as she'd have a heart attack to know her oh-so-innocent son read a book about porn/sex. :-)
Note: I received a copy of this book for reviewing purposes. You can find more book reviews like this one at Devin's Book Hub.
November 16, 2015
ok i feel like a lot of negative reviews for this book are from SWERFs so, to be clear: i don't dislike this book because Chauntelle Tibbals is ok with sex work, i dislike this book because she is so frequently incapable of asking a critical question. That is, i think Dr. Tibbals has access to pretty important people in the pornography industry and she is smart enough to understand that it is an industry that doesn't like having it's financials pried into (partially because it is a pretty in-egalitarian workforce for unestablished performers and a lot of the money is not with producers anymore but with aggregate pornsites with ripped off content). The problem is to counter the stigmatizing image of the industry as a mob controlled exploiter of women she says some amazingly fucked up things. The chapters on Linda Lovelace and Traci Elizabeth Lords have a really fucked up tone and come across as, charitably, insensitive in the extreme and victim blame-y (with regards to Lovelace) because for Tibbals (who relies on people being willing to talk to her and thus by extension can't really go about saying this is more complicated than a wholly good or wholly terrible industry but rather is an industry that offers empowerment and employment to some and is a low end gig for others) they are used to pain pornography badly. What could be an interesting discussion of the use of terms like queer/t****y in porn becomes a "well on the one hand, well on the other", her discussion of subjectivity in reviewing pornographic materials is really thin and she sometimes seems to want to vindicate her career choice (which as an struggling academic, to be real, is pretty real) but makes it seem like she is the only person smart enough to think about doing a sociology of pornography (and acts as though the only source of opinion on pornography is SWERFs). Also her chapter on the creep factor of fans is kinda obvious? Her chapter on the disposability of male porn performers (who are seen as basically not needing to have much in the way of qualification) is, while not very nuanced, a pretty good conversation. Additionally, her chapter on how pegging is not new to pornography or to human sexuality is interesting and good. Dr. Tibbals is obviously smart and obviously has great access but she is unwilling to sacrifice some of it to do hard questions (which some actual performers have started to ask as they can promote themselves without a mediator including racism in the porn industry being brought up by porn darling James Deen). I think, if a sociology of sexuality and sex work and specifically porn is necessary it basically will cost whoever writes it their access (i.e. it is a one and done writing in a shifting market) because it will involve an element of criticism and by acting as a mouthpiece for the industry against weak critiques by bad feminists Tibbals isn't exactly adding to the conversation but she certainly isn't hurting.
August 22, 2015
This is a quick read as well.
Pretty fascinating. The author does a great job of mapping out the ins and outs(no innuendo intended. Tibbals does enough of those throughout the book, that I need not apply) of everything and everyone related to the adult entertainment industry.
I did win this from somewhere- I normally have to disclose that in a review. The only problem is that I don't know from where I won this book. It came with a strange, cryptic phallic shaped letter congratulating me on winning it.
Too bad the phallus didn't accompany the letter!
Tibbals spends a lot of time talking about how her educational funding didn't go through because of the nature of what she chose to study. It's a myopic little world we live in, friends, and this is a prime example. She talks a lot about the discrimination faced in the educational community, and then she gets into the "nitty gritty".
Here's the thing- it's not as bad as the normal person would think upon hearing the words "porn star", "adult entertainment", "dildo", or "anal sex". She takes a very succinct and balanced perspective on what goes on behind the scenes and with those starring, and yes, even those watching. There's no shortage of treatise on her thoughts on those who are too close-minded to
enjoy what many people enjoy. Come on, everyone has had some sort of interaction with porn; whether it's watching it, discussing it, reading books by porn stars, or even judging it. It's a shame that those who judge it as shameful outweigh those who just accept it as it is- an industry that makes millions a year, and yes, as silly as it sounds, gives relief to those who do enjoy it. To pretend that it doesn't exist? Just another example of what's wrong with society today.
So for those people who choose to deign themselves as "pure" and not engage in any format relating to the adult entertainment industry, well, you have your Bibles and Jesus to keep your staid selves warm. The rest of us- will have a go!
I also enjoyed all the wording that Tibbals put together. A lot of it was tongue-in-cheek and innuendo-filled. Not sure whether that was her intention, but I think it likely was. Someone like me who turns a simple conversation about pasta into something dirty, appreciates the irony.
Overall, a nicely put together look at sex, society, and the adult entertainment industry. Too short for my liking. I feel like this is a subject matter that could have easily encompassed a whole book, not just a small brochure. This is such a lightweight, dinky book. I feel like she just scratched the surface with the subject matter. However, once you're in(to the book, that is), you're in like Flynn.
Pretty fascinating. The author does a great job of mapping out the ins and outs(no innuendo intended. Tibbals does enough of those throughout the book, that I need not apply) of everything and everyone related to the adult entertainment industry.
I did win this from somewhere- I normally have to disclose that in a review. The only problem is that I don't know from where I won this book. It came with a strange, cryptic phallic shaped letter congratulating me on winning it.
Too bad the phallus didn't accompany the letter!
Tibbals spends a lot of time talking about how her educational funding didn't go through because of the nature of what she chose to study. It's a myopic little world we live in, friends, and this is a prime example. She talks a lot about the discrimination faced in the educational community, and then she gets into the "nitty gritty".
Here's the thing- it's not as bad as the normal person would think upon hearing the words "porn star", "adult entertainment", "dildo", or "anal sex". She takes a very succinct and balanced perspective on what goes on behind the scenes and with those starring, and yes, even those watching. There's no shortage of treatise on her thoughts on those who are too close-minded to
enjoy what many people enjoy. Come on, everyone has had some sort of interaction with porn; whether it's watching it, discussing it, reading books by porn stars, or even judging it. It's a shame that those who judge it as shameful outweigh those who just accept it as it is- an industry that makes millions a year, and yes, as silly as it sounds, gives relief to those who do enjoy it. To pretend that it doesn't exist? Just another example of what's wrong with society today.
So for those people who choose to deign themselves as "pure" and not engage in any format relating to the adult entertainment industry, well, you have your Bibles and Jesus to keep your staid selves warm. The rest of us- will have a go!
I also enjoyed all the wording that Tibbals put together. A lot of it was tongue-in-cheek and innuendo-filled. Not sure whether that was her intention, but I think it likely was. Someone like me who turns a simple conversation about pasta into something dirty, appreciates the irony.
Overall, a nicely put together look at sex, society, and the adult entertainment industry. Too short for my liking. I feel like this is a subject matter that could have easily encompassed a whole book, not just a small brochure. This is such a lightweight, dinky book. I feel like she just scratched the surface with the subject matter. However, once you're in(to the book, that is), you're in like Flynn.
July 15, 2015
Dr. Chauntelle Tibbals' fascinating insight into the world of pornography is both enlightening and informational. Far too often, the stereotypical tropes that exist in the adult entertainment industry have both guided and channeled societal perception of pornography and the stars in the business, Dr. Tibbals tears through the fabric of the mis-used "stereotypes" associated with adult content, and progresses her research far beyond the informal line of taboo versus normative sex.
What makes her work so intriguing, is the ability to provide a voice on the other side of the spectrum, giving the stars a certain level of "identity", while maintaining a respectability in the overall process of her studies. The adult entertainment industry as a whole is often regarded as a silent minority in the corporate world, and considering the level of success the porn industry still maintains to this day (even after strict criticism), the industry still continues to thrive and advance with the changes in the social theater.
At times, her writing is both funny and liberating. However, even though this book is geared toward a social narrative, the rhetoric sometimes felt like her agenda was at the forefront (which honestly, I can't blame her...she was met with harsh unmitigated criticism throughout her academic career, all the while continuing to push through the social taboos existing in the porn industry.
"Exposure" was both enjoyable, and informative...something often lacking in a research topic as taboo as Dr. Timbals'. She makes no apology for her stance on adult entertainment, and as well she shouldn't.
I highly recommend this book for anyone interested in the culture surrounding adult entertainment. I found myself surprised and liberated at much of Dr. Tibbals' writing, and although I am not surprised at the constant scrutiny involved in the world of porn, I am happy that their are some people willing to make a stance, and become a voice for those most often misinterpreted, or a culture thats entirely misunderstood due to the consistency of misused stereotypes.
What makes her work so intriguing, is the ability to provide a voice on the other side of the spectrum, giving the stars a certain level of "identity", while maintaining a respectability in the overall process of her studies. The adult entertainment industry as a whole is often regarded as a silent minority in the corporate world, and considering the level of success the porn industry still maintains to this day (even after strict criticism), the industry still continues to thrive and advance with the changes in the social theater.
At times, her writing is both funny and liberating. However, even though this book is geared toward a social narrative, the rhetoric sometimes felt like her agenda was at the forefront (which honestly, I can't blame her...she was met with harsh unmitigated criticism throughout her academic career, all the while continuing to push through the social taboos existing in the porn industry.
"Exposure" was both enjoyable, and informative...something often lacking in a research topic as taboo as Dr. Timbals'. She makes no apology for her stance on adult entertainment, and as well she shouldn't.
I highly recommend this book for anyone interested in the culture surrounding adult entertainment. I found myself surprised and liberated at much of Dr. Tibbals' writing, and although I am not surprised at the constant scrutiny involved in the world of porn, I am happy that their are some people willing to make a stance, and become a voice for those most often misinterpreted, or a culture thats entirely misunderstood due to the consistency of misused stereotypes.
February 13, 2016
I love non-fiction books that explore the science behind taboo topics (Mary Roach would be the exemplar of this genre, with her fascinating in-depth looks at sex, cadavers, and guts). So when I heard about this book, I was definitely looking forward to a scientist’s examination of the adult entertainment industry (yes, that would be a fancy word for porn).
Unfortunately, that is not what this book is. This book is a memoir detailing the struggles Dr. Chauntelle Tibbals faces as she makes her way through the ivory tower of academia. Instead of learning about how people inside the adult entertainment industry feel about their work, or how their work impacts their lives, I learned about Dr. Tibbals grad school struggles, bad conference experiences, rejected papers, etcetera ad nauseam.
In the few instances where Dr. Tibbals did actually discuss the topic promised by the book’s title she engaged in shallow barely scientific analysis at best and victim blaming at worse. In chapter 9 she discusses two pornographic films, one that she felt empowered the actress in the film and the other that exploited the actress. You know what would have been nice? If she had bothered to get the actresses’ opinion on that! But nope, just her opinion.
In her worst sin Dr. Tibbals devotes two chapter to trashing, shaming, and victim blaming Linda Lovelace and Traci Lords. Just listen to this:
“Because the saddest and most commonly overlooked part of this tale has to do with the industry insiders Traci impacted.”
That’s the saddest part of this tale? See I thought the saddest part was when a 14 year old girl had to ask her mother’s cocaine dealer to help her get a secret abortion, and then to help her pay for it, helped get her a fake driver’s license so she could do some nude modeling. But now thanks to Dr. Tibbals I know “The Real Traci Elizabeth Lords”. The sheer insanity of titling the chapter the real Traci Elizabeth Lords, when you have never even spoken to her… I’m just… ugh.
Unfortunately, that is not what this book is. This book is a memoir detailing the struggles Dr. Chauntelle Tibbals faces as she makes her way through the ivory tower of academia. Instead of learning about how people inside the adult entertainment industry feel about their work, or how their work impacts their lives, I learned about Dr. Tibbals grad school struggles, bad conference experiences, rejected papers, etcetera ad nauseam.
In the few instances where Dr. Tibbals did actually discuss the topic promised by the book’s title she engaged in shallow barely scientific analysis at best and victim blaming at worse. In chapter 9 she discusses two pornographic films, one that she felt empowered the actress in the film and the other that exploited the actress. You know what would have been nice? If she had bothered to get the actresses’ opinion on that! But nope, just her opinion.
In her worst sin Dr. Tibbals devotes two chapter to trashing, shaming, and victim blaming Linda Lovelace and Traci Lords. Just listen to this:
“Because the saddest and most commonly overlooked part of this tale has to do with the industry insiders Traci impacted.”
That’s the saddest part of this tale? See I thought the saddest part was when a 14 year old girl had to ask her mother’s cocaine dealer to help her get a secret abortion, and then to help her pay for it, helped get her a fake driver’s license so she could do some nude modeling. But now thanks to Dr. Tibbals I know “The Real Traci Elizabeth Lords”. The sheer insanity of titling the chapter the real Traci Elizabeth Lords, when you have never even spoken to her… I’m just… ugh.
October 26, 2016
I never thought a book about Adult Entertainment could put me to sleep, but I just woke back up, finished the last chapter, and sat down to write this review. A "look at me going off the beaten path" memoir disguised as something it isn't. Filled with irrelevant anecdotes and randomly-rehashed opinions that left me scratching my head. The book doesn't explore the relationship between porn, sex, and society, at all. Some questions I was expecting to be explored:
- Why do people watch porn and so much of it? Not covered.
- Do society's changing views on sex shape or porn consumption preferences or is it the other way around? Not covered.
- Why do people start working in porn? One anecdote about someone who started as a model, nothing more.
- Why does society view sex workers the way it does? Mentioned, but not analyzed.
- What is a day in the life of a porn actor or actress actually like? Hinted at, not covered.
- Is porn harmful? There are now a number of studies out citing harmful effects on relationships and, more convincingly, the fact that frequent usage literally rewires the human brain. It's the elephant in the room. Not mentioned here.
Sure, you get a few glimpses into the industry, but how dully Chauntelle managed to recount her experiences is deserving of special recognition. Overall, the author does a poor job of translating (what I'd imagine, was, an awful lot of) critical thinking and thorough research into prose. Don't read it.
- Why do people watch porn and so much of it? Not covered.
- Do society's changing views on sex shape or porn consumption preferences or is it the other way around? Not covered.
- Why do people start working in porn? One anecdote about someone who started as a model, nothing more.
- Why does society view sex workers the way it does? Mentioned, but not analyzed.
- What is a day in the life of a porn actor or actress actually like? Hinted at, not covered.
- Is porn harmful? There are now a number of studies out citing harmful effects on relationships and, more convincingly, the fact that frequent usage literally rewires the human brain. It's the elephant in the room. Not mentioned here.
Sure, you get a few glimpses into the industry, but how dully Chauntelle managed to recount her experiences is deserving of special recognition. Overall, the author does a poor job of translating (what I'd imagine, was, an awful lot of) critical thinking and thorough research into prose. Don't read it.
December 12, 2015
With a title like 'Exposure' I was certain that the author was going to do some deep digging to reveal some potentially humanizing truths about the porn industry. No such thing. The author apparently holds a PhD in sociology, but no evidence of that erudite title is to be found here. Much of the writing is feels like it drizzled off the flourescent pink pen of a star-struck high-schooler. Much opinion, a lot of cliche, and very little analysis. Much name-dropping, but the reader is left with the feeling that the author's relationships with those she befriended and worked with in the industry were at best superficial, even though she claims to have been quite close to many. If she was so close, why no interviews? Worried about privacy? Do them anonymously. It seems to me that the author set out with good intentions in that she wanted to humanize porn workers. Instead, she forgot to talk them and bring their voices, their stories, to the reader. As scientist, I would have thought that the author would have given a well-researched, objective account of the porn industry. Surely it's not all potpourri and butterflies. And surely the US market is more than just Porn Valley California. Nothing at all about the global porn industry. Enough. I don't want to waste more time on this book. If it's insight you're looking for, you won't find it here.
May 29, 2015
This book is a clear and interesting description of the world of porn movies, from a sociological and anthropological point of view. The author outlines in a very scientific, and even fun, way what are the main reasons that led her to do this research and allows us to have many different and interesting insights of a piece of the world that, even if it's very wide, is usually ignored.
Questo libro è una chiara e interessante descrizione del mondo del porno, in particolare dei film, da un punto di vista antropologico e sociologico. L'autrice delinea in modo scientifico, e anche divertente, quali sono le ragioni che l'hanno spinta a fare questa ricerca e ci permette di avere differenti e chiarificanti insight su una parte di mondo, che per quanto vasta, viene di solito sistematicamente ignorata.
THANKS TO NETGALLEY AND GREEN LEAF BOOK GROUP FOR THE PREVIEW!
Questo libro è una chiara e interessante descrizione del mondo del porno, in particolare dei film, da un punto di vista antropologico e sociologico. L'autrice delinea in modo scientifico, e anche divertente, quali sono le ragioni che l'hanno spinta a fare questa ricerca e ci permette di avere differenti e chiarificanti insight su una parte di mondo, che per quanto vasta, viene di solito sistematicamente ignorata.
THANKS TO NETGALLEY AND GREEN LEAF BOOK GROUP FOR THE PREVIEW!
July 23, 2015
Subtitled: A Sociologist Explores Sex, Society, and Adult Entertainment, and as one would expect from that, I came into this book thinking it would be a sociological study on the porn industry. It isn’t; I suppose one would read her doctorial dissertation for that, but once I adjusted that expectation, I found myself liking it more. What it turned out to be was a collection of stories about how she did her research, some of them hilarious, some gross, some both, all intriguing. If you look at the author’s photo, where she comes off as incredibly serious, you would not expect her to be in all these situations, but that belief is shattered by the stories of her childhood and college days, and of course her time on porn sets and award shows. If her goal was to prove that those who have sex on camera for a living are people too, mission accomplished.
August 6, 2015
Sexuality and the sex industry have always fascinated me. I thought this book brought an interesting perspective. As a feminist, I am familiar with the anti-porn views within academia. However, I like to think that women have bodily autonomy and should be free to work in the sex industry, if that is what they want to do.
I enjoyed reading about her experiences working with adult entertainers, producers, directors, etc. However, I wish the book would have gone into more detail. This is just a basic overview of her experiences and the discoveries she's made in her research.
She's definitely helped pave the way for other students and researchers who want to study taboo topics, and she seems to have been successful despite her advisor's warnings and disdain for the porn industry.
I enjoyed reading about her experiences working with adult entertainers, producers, directors, etc. However, I wish the book would have gone into more detail. This is just a basic overview of her experiences and the discoveries she's made in her research.
She's definitely helped pave the way for other students and researchers who want to study taboo topics, and she seems to have been successful despite her advisor's warnings and disdain for the porn industry.
April 26, 2015
Full disclosure: I received a copy of this book from Net Galley in exchange for an honest review.
I freaking loved this book. Dr. Chauntelle Tibbals is a sociologist studying porn. Instead of taking a sex negative approach to the porn community Dr. Tibbals seeks to go beyond the surface and get to the true heart of porn and the way it helps shape society. This book is a series of essays and my only fault is that I wanted more porn insight. There's a few gripes about Dr. Tibbals interaction with traditional academia that might turn a few off. Of course the topic of porn will turn more than a few off but this book is worth a read.
I freaking loved this book. Dr. Chauntelle Tibbals is a sociologist studying porn. Instead of taking a sex negative approach to the porn community Dr. Tibbals seeks to go beyond the surface and get to the true heart of porn and the way it helps shape society. This book is a series of essays and my only fault is that I wanted more porn insight. There's a few gripes about Dr. Tibbals interaction with traditional academia that might turn a few off. Of course the topic of porn will turn more than a few off but this book is worth a read.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 37 reviews