“To say that humans have overthought sex is something of an understatement. All life on this planet shares the desire to reproduce, but what makes humans unique are the infinitely complex and varied ways we seek to gratify our sexual desires…Humans are also the only creatures that stigmatize, punish and create shame around their sexual desires. While all animals have courtship rituals, no wildebeest has ever gone into therapy because it’s struggling to express a latex fetish. The queen honeybee will shag up to forty partners in one session…and not one drone will call her a slut…Yet the guilt we humans feel around our desires can be paralyzing…”
- Kate Lister, A Curious History of Sex
It should go without saying – though I’ll say it anyway – but sex is pretty important to life. Most of us wouldn’t be here without it, along with the fortuitous meeting of sperm and egg that sometimes accompanies the act.
Many creatures have sex, but for humans, it is far more than an evolutionary impulse. It is of massive significance to our identities. It is a driver of motivations. It occupies a not-insubstantial portion of our thoughts. Sex – and its close cousins lust and love – can infect the mind like a madness. Throughout the course of human existence, it has caused men and women to make bad decisions, commit crimes, give up thrones, start wars, and launch a thousand ships across the Aegean Sea.
Generally speaking, sex does not occur in the public arena, but that has not stopped anyone from making it a matter of public concern, especially as to questions of sexual identity and preferences. People have been exiled, ostracized, beaten, imprisoned, and executed. There has been sexually-based violence beyond counting. Talking about sex can get pretty dour.
Yet, as Kate Lister notes repeatedly in A Curious History of Sex, it can also be fun. Indeed, it should be fun. And consensual. And safe.
***
In looking at the title, it’s important to note the indefinite article. This is a history of sex, not the history. Lister as at pains to remind us that her offering is not comprehensive, as though such a thing were even possible.
Not only is this not comprehensive, it’s not even methodical. Rather, it’s downright idiosyncratic. Lister divides A Curious History of Sex into eight sections, within which are three smaller subsections. For example, there is a section on “Sex and Money,” another on “Sex and Hygiene” – which is marvelous – and a third on “Sex and Food.” The paths she decides to follow, as well as those she avoids, can be head scratching. For instance, she is generally sex-work positive, without really acknowledging downsides such as trafficking and coercion. At the same time, she ignores the way modern technology has given such workers distance, safety, and better profit margins.
Unsurprisingly, given its ad hoc nature, A Curious History of Sex is consistently uneven. Some parts were great, some average, and others I would have excised completely. The sequence about food and sex, for instance, did nothing for me, except ruin the notion of food and sex both. I also would have rearranged the presentation, as the book starts with a bouncy ebullience, but then progresses towards weightier topics – such as abortion – at the end.
***
The unevenness here is not fatal to the project. When I reached the end, and tallied up the good and less-good, the good won out.
For me, A Curious History of Sex worked best when it employed a light touch. Probably my favorite essay involved Lister’s deconstruction of the origin myth of the vibrator. Legend has it that it was created by male Victorian doctors in order to cure the “hysteria” of their female patients, and to keep them from getting carpal tunnel. As Lister astutely notes, this fable fits our view of the Victorians as caught in a hopeless loop of repression/expression. But as she pulls at the threads holding it together, it comes apart.
Lister is less successful when she goes fully serious. For instance, she has a subsection on the racial fetishization of nonwhite people by whites. This is a huge topic, one that deserves a full and complete discussion. Unfortunately, Lister tries to encompass it in a measly ten pages. As a result, it felt like Lister was patting herself on the back for bringing it up, though she entirely failed – because ten pages is not enough – to even scratch the surface. On the other hand, she does a great job summarizing the awful history – and present – of both male and female genital mutilation.
Of course, the valuations of each segment will change for each person, depending on what you’re looking for.
***
So, you might be wondering, what was I looking for? Funny you should ask, because my wife certainly did, as soon as this was delivered. Then she gave me a look.
The answer: beyond my obvious prurient interest, I’m intrigued by the age-old conflict that has been waged over this one particular act, or rather, combination of acts.
Sex is a natural, biological imperative. It is powerfully entwined with desire, which is ingrained and unique to each person. It is an intensely private, intimate thing. Nevertheless, a powerful fraction of society – all over the world, not just the angry old men of the western world – has forever sought to codify what expressions were permissive, and what were immoral, illegal, or both. Lister shares this interest.
One of the ongoing themes of A Curious History of Sex is how almost every sexual practice ever conceived has already been done, and it’s been done many times, over the span of many years. Despite this, every generation seems to have to fight the same battles over again, the pendulum swinging back and forth between liberty and restriction, between free expression and obscenity, and between privacy and governmental intrusion.
***
Lister belongs to a generation of cool – or cool to me – British historians, such as Alex von Tunzelmann and Dan Snow. People who’ve gone to Oxford or Cambridge, but also dye their hair or wear blazers with jeans, and who show up on YouTube to breakdown the inaccuracies of historically-based movies. As she does in her online appearances, Lister nicely combines deep research, strong opinions, cheeky humor, and – of course – a few puns, a double entendre or two, and the employment of every piece of sexual slang throughout the ages. If you read this, you won’t be able to stop yourself from laughing every time you hear reference to Daniel James Brown’s The Boys in the Boat.
Even though I ended up skimming certain parts, and even though it occasionally touches upon somber subjects, it was a pleasure to read in general. If I had tried a bit harder, I’m sure I could’ve found a better volume on this subject, but I don’t regret choosing this one.
***
At this point, I suppose I should warn you that this book about sex is absolutely filled with sex. It has language, it has descriptions, and it even has pictures. So, if that’s not your thing, this definitely won’t be your thing.
***
In her introduction, Lister quotes the famed Colombian novelist Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who wrote that “everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life and a secret life.” The secret part – Lister notes – is the most honest part. Somehow, though, this secret part – which encompasses our unspoken needs and desires – has been wrenched into the open and turned into a moral issue aired on a public forum. At the end of A Curious History of Sex, she closes this thought by advocating the disentangling of sex and shame. It’s a nice idea, but as her book implicitly demonstrates, it is not likely to happen anytime soon.