It’s odd to begin a review of something filled with varying levels of tragedy and turbulence: “I really enjoyed reading this,’ but boy did I ever enjoy reading this book. It is the story of Judy Newton, who discovered BDSM - or more precisely embraced her inner dominatrix - when she was in her sixties. On the heels of this she went through one medical trauma after another - from discovering a tumor on her kidney, to is subsequent removal and the ensuing dialysis, to the cancer that would eventually end her life. But there are several books here: there is the story of navigating a healthcare system seemingly designed to fail the people it’s intended to serve. There is the incredible portrait of family relationships, so beautifully and perfectly described. There is the evolution of Judy’s sexuality as she moves through the last years of her life. And there is the message of the centrality of sexuality to our humanity across the spectrum of our lives, through illness and age and convalescence. There are parts of each of these stories that I carry with me, that I’m grateful to have read.
As I said, there is an easy intimacy about the author’s description of her family and relationships; you come to know the players very quickly. Elizabeth arrives at her mother’s spectacularly chaotic apartment to spend the first night there - and scans the bookshelves: “There’s a dense hardcover about the civil war next to Women Who Run With Wolves, which Mom has always wanted me to read. My feminism has no room for some spiritual claims about a natural and instinctive femininity.” I recognize these people.
And...”the last book one shelf is an old copy of her favorite, Catch 22.”
Catch 22 is the constant reference for the description of their negotiation of the medical system. The classic Catch 22 from the book is where the fighter pilot Yossarian wants to be declared mentally unfit to fly missions because they are terrifying. Alas his terror and desire to not fly is evidence of his sanity, and so he cannot be declared mentally unfit. This metaphor is deftly deployed to describe their navigation through the labyrinthine medical establishment: Judy is too healthy to enter a rehab that offers the kind of care that would be most beneficial, or is required to transfer out of a place that was helping her regain her strength because.. she got too strong. It is not the people who are failing here, not all of them. Throughout the book Elizabeth calls attention to the “superhero social workers” and doctors who care deeply, and wield their influence and big hearts to do the best they can by them. It is the system that fails - the system so Byzantine that it manages to resist all anthropomorphization by remaining completely heartless.
The evolution of Judy’s sexuality - specifically her embracing of the role “Domme” - is marvelously woven throughout, and provides both the dark comedy and deep sadness, also woven through the story. Approaching 60, Judy calls Elizabeth and asks excitedly “did you know that you can get paid to hurt men, and you don’t even have to have sex with them?” And thus begins the more entertaining aspects of the story. Another metaphor woven throughout the book is the giant St. Christopher’s Cross dominating Judy’s living room. It is the symbol of her power, it marks the presence of her lover Kenny, and it is also and in many different respects a “cross to bear.” In the hands of a lesser writer, the discovery of an aging parent’s BDSM paraphernalia, alongside sex toys - dildos, floggers - would be horrifying at best. Here, their discovery and disposition is humorous, profound, inconvenient, sad - but always fits in a way that moves the story along.
One of the great themes of the book is how we as a culture are in denial about elder sexuality, which makes it much easier for us as individuals to deny people access to sexuality as they age. This is especially poignant here: Judy’s discovery of her sexuality late in life was tremendously empowering, and was clearly vital to her navigation through her first illness. Judy herself writes about this in an article quoted at length in the book: “The visit of my faithful British subject (Note: a domination session with one of Judy’s favorite partners) was an uncharted part of my hospital recovery plan, but immensely therapeutic.” Greater is the tragedy, then, when through her final illness, her sexuality is simply erased by doctors, rehabs, and even superhero social workers. What makes this story even more heartbreaking is that this is not written from the perspective of someone who did everything right, who asked the right questions and advocated for her mother’s sexual and emotional needs at every turn. While Elizabeth and her mother are clearly more open about sexuality than most mother-daughter pairs, we feel the regret as Elizabeth tells us of things she didn’t ask for, times she didn’t advocate for Judy’s needs, and - despite their openness about so many things – questions she never asked her mother.
As I began: I really loved reading his book – and am so very grateful to Elizabeth Wood for writing it. There are many things I took away from it – from a self-amused resolution to organize the abundant paraphernalia in my life, to a much fuller perspective on aging, sexuality and death, and the inextricable links between them. There are many relationships that drive the story here: obviously Elizabeth’s relationship with her mother, but also her sometimes contentious relationship with her sister and other relatives, with doctors & social workers. Also, Judy’s relationship with her supremely devoted lover Kenny provides occasional oases of tenderness throughout the story. So when I hear the echoes of this book now, I hear: ask the questions, advocate, build the relationships.