By turns uproarious and touching, the memoir of a young woman's search for an orgasm—and for the elusive connections between sex and love Twenty-six-year-old Mara Altman wanted to know what all the screaming was about. She'd lost her virginity at seventeen; grown up in southern California with sexually free parents; had lovers in India, Burma, and Peru; and spent a year in Bangkok observing all manner of depravity. And yet she was an attractive, successful, single woman in New York who'd never had an orgasm. And so she embarked on a wildly funny, emotionally resonant odyssey—a journey both inside and outside herself—only to discover that, for Mara, orgasm was connected to a part of her that no vibrator could reach. Thanks for Coming is one woman's look at our obsession with and anxiety over the female orgasm. Her quest to get her own yields poignant results that will surprise even the sexually awakened among us. From sex shows to sex conventions, from a therapist's couch to her own couch, from the bedroom to the bar, Mara Altman proves to be a guide as hilarious as she is investigative.
La portada súper chora y el tema interesante, pensé yo que lo iba a pasar la mar de bien, pero la verdad es que... me aburrió. Lo arrendé en la biblioteca de la muni, lo renové, lo volví a renovar (luego de un tiempo porque no se puede renovar dos veces seguidas) y... nada, hasta los caracoles más rápidos que yo para leer esto.
Me costó darme cuenta de que me aburría porque, como comenté antes, el tema iba a ser una gozada, jajaja, pero lo hice y MUCHO, en especial con la autora dándoselas de súper innovadora y bacán cuando son temas que al final han existido siempre. Además la encontré bien quejosa. No sé si me faltó compasión o qué, quizá simplemente no conecté con ella, pero de todos modos no creo que vuelva a intentarlo.
Altman caught a lot of flak from Gawker when the proposal for this book was being shopped around; after all, it's pretty easy to laugh at a woman in her mid-20s who still hasn't managed to have an orgasm. And Altman's story turns out to be a lot like that State Farm commercial that's on TV all the time lately, except that instead of asking everybody to help her figure out the right deductible, she's... well, you know.
But the thing is, if you're willing to give Altman a chance, and approach her story without condescension or smugness, it's actually pretty entertaining. Yes, she can be obtusely self-absorbed; yes, she's carrying around a lot of emotional baggage many of us shucked long ago. But she wants to understand herself; she works through her own denseness, and she knows that as much as this story is all about her, it also isn't all about her. I could've done with a little trimming here and there, but this was one of the better memoirs I've read in recent months: Altman gives you a real sense of how high the stakes are in her life, and follows through on that dramatic promise.
No one can fault Altman for writing and researching Thanks for Coming with a lack of earnestness. At its best, the memoir is a broad expose of a scattered grassroots industry emerging to promote women's pleasure, whether through direct physical means or by the promise of boosted self-esteem, with plenty of combinations of these on the offer. And indeed, we soon realize that Mara's problem isn't anything physical, but rather confronting the demons that prevent her from feeling comfortable with her own body. I didn't relate to the process, much. Perhaps I failed to get the cultural message that declares parts of the female body horrifying and shameful. In any case, most of the book is a memoir of how, while refusing to engage in any of the behaviors that typically give most women orgasms, the author fails to have an orgasm, and once she tries one of these methods, she succeeds in her quest.
For sure, there's a lot to enjoy here. It's well-written, funny, and I think Altman would make a great lighthearted weekly columnist somewhere. Her descriptions of the strange cast of characters she meets along her journey are unparalleled. This did not, however, prevent me from wanting to reach into the book and shake her when she asked people around her for the thousandth time how to have an orgasm--even lamenting the lack of advice provided at a family Thanksgiving dinner!--while proceeding to ignore anything they actually suggested.
At first, I didn't really like this book. There is this girl (the author) who she complains about being in her mid-20s never having experienced an orgasm (not that that's not something to complain about.) She is so fixated on this, in fact, that she decides to write a book about the quest to achieve one. Then she talks to a whole bunch of sexperts and vulva gurus.
The part I didn't understand was that all through the first part of the book she was so fixated on achieving an orgasm, and yet she barely attempted to stimulate herself. The first few months of her journey, she is focused on her orgasm-less-ness and talks to a host of experts (including the lovely Betty Dodson), yet she doesn't make the time to put her hand on her snatch. Not even lean against a dryer on spin cycle. Not even purchase a vibe, never mind switch it on. This irritated me as a helpless bystander. I too wanted to yell at the book "JUST MASTURBATE!" How can one be upset about never having experienced an orgasm it they don't give themselves physical contact?
Halfway through the book I warmed up to Mara and her body-shy experiences. I couldn't relate in that sense, but I could appreciate how hard it is to deal with hangups of any variety. I also appreciated that she visited so many experts and that I was able to vicariously experience being in the awkward presence of some of the great thinkers and DOers on sexuality of the modern age.
I guess the sad truth about Thanks for Coming is that I couldn't really bring myself to care about the outcome. Was it interesting? Absolutely. Was it sexy? Kinda. Something about it felt very shallow, which perhaps is the point - that she set out upon this quest for an orgasm and seemed to divorce it from all of its factors. At times - read: most of the time - it felt like she was doing things just to have a book to write, which I guess I understand, and certainly isn't unusual (see: my upcoming review of Dave Eggers' memoir), but takes something away from it, to be sure. It's a good read if you want something quick and curious, but there's very little from this that lingered in my mind, and I finished it all of a month to three weeks ago.
I loved Mara Altman's Kindle Single "Sparkle", so I figured I'd try another one of her works. I actually intended on purchasing her other single "Bearded Lady", but accidentally bought this sucker instead [curse you, Fat Finger Syndrome]. I was out ten bucks no matter what, so I figured I'd still give 'er a try.
Mara Altman is brave, honest, and hilarious in this memoir. This book is more than just about sex; it is about self-discovery. Altman, an orgasm-virgin, writes to experience what all the fuss is about regarding female orgasms. She does it in a very scientific way. She explores female pleasure by speaking to sex therapists, psychologists, her grandparents, her personal "sex whore" (strictly rubbing, no feelings), lovers, friends, and other orgasm gurus.
About halfway through I questioned Altman's sanity, as she was truly obsessed with having and learning about the human orgasm. I thought, "Enough already! This bitch is creepily obsessed." and had set the book down for a few weeks. Then my appreciation for research knocked some perspective into me. I no longer viewed the book as a woman creating just a funny read, rather I viewed it as a journalist researching a topic. Once I could view it as research, I grew to appreciate her efforts a lot more.
Give the book a shot. Worse-case scenario is you get the opportunity to read the word "pussy" more than you actually get it. Boom.
I didn't like this when I started it. In fact, it took me quite awhile to like it. I felt that the author was obsessing in a repetitive manner and not moving forward a whole lot with her efforts. It was too much of the same lamentation. Once I finally got engaged in the story, though, I found it truly enjoyable. The cast of characters is fascinating, frankly, and is one of the things that I liked most about this book. I also love that Altman explored so many different facets of sexuality, and that she had the courage to peel away her emotional baggage and to share all of the self-discovery that was inevitable given her quest. Sex is WAY too taboo in our society and I tend to get really enthusiastic about authors who have the gumption to really delve into human sexuality. The ending left me joyously satisfied...which, given the subject, HAS to be a good thing!
P.S. Nitpicky, but I hate the words "cooter" and "crotch". So the frequent use of both of those was quite a bit of a buzzkill. Oh well, I lived to enjoy the book anyway ;)
Altman's writing is witty, honest, and entertaining. While I relate to the team of readers who found frustration that after hundreds of pages I was still reading new cute nicknames for her crotch without one moment of the author sticking her hand down her pants, there is a wealth of information she discovers about the industry that has grown out of researching and enhancing orgasm. I'd recommend to anyone who likes funny memoirs or is interested in learning more about anorgasmia.
So it's about this 26 yr old girl who hasn't had an orgasm and her quest to 'find' it. A little ways into the book, we realize she has never masturbated before, never used a vibrator before. The first time she finally does masturbate, WOW, there it is! First try! Not too much of a quest, if you ask me. Didn't answer any of my questions...
The content of the book was much deeper than the title would lead you to believe. I think most twenty-somethings have gone through a period in their life when they felt disconnected from life and were searching for something to grasp onto. To me, this book highlighted the journey of finding yourself.
This book was a journey of the orgasm, for one female in particular. Mara overthinks, over feels and over researches for the sake of her orgasm. Its a good book, an interesting journey and I laughed a lot. Read this if you are not easily offended by sex.
The writing was better than the plot. She's a talented writer but the book when on for a little too long although the subject would have made for an interested longform article. Good read for those interested in the art of creative non-fiction. I'd be happy to read more from her.
Picked this up because I so enjoyed Mara's latest release, Gross Anatomy. I thought she was neurotic then, but boy was she neurotic ten years ago, when she published Thanks For Coming.
I also feel a bit weird critiquing someone's memoir, but here we go.
This was a hard and frustrating read a lot of the time because it very much felt like it was written ten years ago (I was turned off when she used the word "retarded" quite a few times. And there were MySpace references). Mara was also so incredibly out of touch with the world everyone else was living in. I could relate to some of her insecurities and coping skills, but I also very much wanted to shake her and tell her to get a fucking grip already. It really bothered me that she kept searching for "the answer" to why she couldn't have an orgasm when she couldn't even look at or touch her own genitalia. The answer clearly was in herself and she wasn't allowing herself to access it, and instead very stubbornly continued seeking out expert after expert rather than having to look inward (she did eventually look inward).
I don't know how she managed to get from where she started to where the book ended, but I'm glad she managed to figure some shit out.
I wouldn't necessarily recommend this, because I think Gross Anatomy is a better representation of her writing now, but I don't regret reading this.
It took me long time to finally finish this book. It’s good in the sense of creates awareness for women to enjoy and know your body and what you like as women but the narrative can get a bit confusing to the point you stop and then read again. Overall is a good book
The precursor to her current "Gross Anatomy". The author tells a highly personal, but not erotic, story of visits to numerous sex experts. Be an adult and read it without smirking.
A very American book. Who else writes about stuff like this?. Essentially a young neurotic woman goes forth to fix at least one of her neuroses. Commendable but a little too oversharing.
Now I realize the taboo nature of this book might lead one to believe there is no way it is worthy of 5 stars. Sure, the taboo content was alluring and entertaining, but that is not why I am rating this book so highly. It is ... the pure vulnerability Mara Altman portrays in this memoir. The attempt at finding a part of oneself so typically only privy to, well oneself, is so inspiring to me. The entire time I was reading this book (other than really wanting to somehow obtain her email address so I can probe her mind more), I was thinking to myself that I need to find something in my life to be that passionate about. I don't need HER passion per-say, but just the thought of throwing caution to the wind and venturing on a journey into the unknown, so fascinating. I went into reading this purely for amusement (and at this point have NO idea how I came upon it, to be honest), but ended up being left thinking about my own life. To me, that is the #1 sign of a good book.
It wasn't my favorite book in the world, but it was really entertaining. Altman has a very easy and funny style which makes the book interesting and fairly comical at times. I thought it was going to have a little more into the science of orgasm, but instead focused more on the emotional. It was informative, but read more like a fiction journey. I think the lightness and the journey aspects of it made it interesting and worth reading. I'd recommend it to anyone looking for a simple, entertaining read.
Perhaps because Mara is an interesting conflicted soul. She's so courageous to share herself with us in this way.
For those who share her conflicts or issues, it will be an interesting read. In the end, she had to find her own personal answers, so it may not be illuminating; but her process and her courage will be instructive.
300-odd pages of Emily Gould-style oversharing. It's an enjoyable read as long as you don't take it too seriously. The less introspective parts (the elderly orgasm expert, the Orgasm People) are quite funny. But the point of the book is the author's personal journey, and she's very invested in this quirky-but-brutally-honest tone that is just a little too earnest for the material, given that none of the soul-baring is particularly serious.
I laughed so much my husband kept asking me what was so funny. Totally enjoyable reading with touching and humorous anecdotes about the young female experience... it brought back so many memories, good and embarrassing! I highly recommend this to others no matter your age (young adult and beyond), orientation or sex.
While for much of the book I wanted to yell at the author, JUST MASTURBATE ALREADY!, in the end, it was fairly insightful. I could occasionally relate to her neuroses (she had plenty to choose from), and I appreciated the overarching message of relaxing, letting go, and just doing what feels good.
It was a great and humorous book. I enjoyed reading about all the experiences this woman had in trying to find out what it meant for a woman to have an orgasm. It made me laugh, and tingle on the inside the way she expresses what she went through and it does have a happy ending which I liked.
I was unexpectedly entertained by this book, as well as educated. Altman's journey is a crash-course in our generation's bizarro relationship with sex and love and ambition and navel-gazing, but is ultimately satisfying and even a little informative.
Altman chronicles her journey to her first orgasm with self-deprecating wit. She's a little too self-deprecating at times. But you have to admire her courage in relating her many experiences in the name of science.