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The Last Living Slut: Born in Iran, Bred Backstage – The Provocative Rock and Roll Memoir of Sexual Liberation and Brutal Revenge
The Last Living Slut is the salaciously literary and sexually liberated account of one young woman’s transition from traditionally-raised Iranian to rock and roll groupie for Guns N Roses, Motley Crew, and many others. Paired with a powerful introduction by New York Times bestselling authors Neil Strauss and Anthony Bozza, Roxana Shirazi’s The Last Living Slut is a passionate tale of jilted love, brutal revenge, and backstage encounters that make Pamela Des Barres’s I’m With The Band read like the diary of a nun.
352 pages, Paperback
First published June 1, 2010
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October 17, 2013
I wish I could explain to you the utter vileness that was this book. It wasn't vile because it was loaded with sex. It was vile because it came from an emotionally unstable woman who clearly has no respect for herself or her body.
I kept waiting for this book to show me an "empowered" female, one who truly could reclaim the word "slut" in a positive way. This did not happen at all. I truly felt really bad for Shirazi. It felt as if though she was trying to convince herself, more than the reader, that she wasn't being used/abused and using sex as a drug or crutch. I mean, going out and gang-banging a band the day after you have an abortion, and the blood is dripping down your leg? In what universe does that not reek of a woman with major sexual issues? I'm all for "whatever floats your boat," and LOTS of it, but that is just disturbing and unhealthy.
Everything about this author and book is contradictory, in a bad way. I can't, for the life of me, understand how any Universities have her speak on topics of feminism when she is such a bad example of a self-respecting female.
If you're looking to read about healthy, fun stories about sexual exploits and hanging out back-stage, you can forget this memoir.
EDIT: I wanted to add this in because it seems like certain reviewers are convinced that all one-star reviews come from prudish people who just can't wrap their heads around a sexually free woman. That is absolutely not the case. Raunchy? Yes please! Sexy, adult relations? Yes please! There is nothing in here that highlights a healthy, adult sexual experience. You can have as many sexual partners as you please, and have crazy experiences with those partners but when you have them in the context Roxana did in this book, then you become a victim. And no amount of trying to play it off as something you wanted, or even liked, is going to make it ok.
I kept waiting for this book to show me an "empowered" female, one who truly could reclaim the word "slut" in a positive way. This did not happen at all. I truly felt really bad for Shirazi. It felt as if though she was trying to convince herself, more than the reader, that she wasn't being used/abused and using sex as a drug or crutch. I mean, going out and gang-banging a band the day after you have an abortion, and the blood is dripping down your leg? In what universe does that not reek of a woman with major sexual issues? I'm all for "whatever floats your boat," and LOTS of it, but that is just disturbing and unhealthy.
Everything about this author and book is contradictory, in a bad way. I can't, for the life of me, understand how any Universities have her speak on topics of feminism when she is such a bad example of a self-respecting female.
If you're looking to read about healthy, fun stories about sexual exploits and hanging out back-stage, you can forget this memoir.
EDIT: I wanted to add this in because it seems like certain reviewers are convinced that all one-star reviews come from prudish people who just can't wrap their heads around a sexually free woman. That is absolutely not the case. Raunchy? Yes please! Sexy, adult relations? Yes please! There is nothing in here that highlights a healthy, adult sexual experience. You can have as many sexual partners as you please, and have crazy experiences with those partners but when you have them in the context Roxana did in this book, then you become a victim. And no amount of trying to play it off as something you wanted, or even liked, is going to make it ok.
July 30, 2012
I feel very strongly about this book and I wrote a blog post awhile ago that sums those feelings up.
"I’ve been seeing a lot of posts about the topic of removing the bad connotation that goes with the word “slut”. There are slut-walks, books, articles, etc all with the idea that women should not be punished for having sex. They have an issue with the idea that a man can have a lot of sex and be called a stud while a woman is a slut. I fully support this. However, I recently read “The Last Living Slut Born in Iran, Bred Backstage” by Roxana Shirazi who is a Women and Gender Studies teacher and speaker. Her book opens with an introduction that sums up the anti-slut movement saying that women should not be persecuted for having sexual lives like men. Here is my first (of many) issue with this book. She keeps comparing women to men. Saying that women should be able to be “like men.” I’ve said before that my idea of feminism has very little to do with men. I’m not looking to lower them or to catch up. Feminism for me has to do with my rights and my abilities. I do not want to be “like men” at all. More on this later.
If you have not read this book, it is pretty much a compilation of the author’s rampant sex life starting from 5 years old going into her late 20’s. Shirazi starts by telling about her life as a child growing up in an unsteady Iran going through political revolts and overthrows. She sets herself up for a very poignant tale of a young girl adapting to her situation and going through the trials of political and familial change. Our first encounter with her sex life (and she includes this, calling it her sexual awakening) is when she is 5 years old and gets special attention from a border in her grandmothers house. He is middle aged and sexually assaults her while distracting her with cartoons. Instead of calling this the horrible assault it is, Shirazi calls herself a bad and lustful girl and talks about how she liked it. She makes it sexual and tries to titillate her audience. She is assaulted multiple times by another border later and it’s the same story, told in a way that you would find in bad erotica. The “I’m a dirty, naughty girl. Isn’t that sexy?” shtick. Again, she’s 5 years old. She says that she considers it her introduction to sex and sounds oddly grateful.
The rest of the book is a series of random hookups with rock stars. She sleeps with old, young (multiple 15 year olds when she’s 20+), drugged, drunk, whatever. She sleeps with people who will get her to the people she really wants. She sleeps with people when she doesn’t want to. She performs any kind of sexual act to get the attention on her. She has sex even when she’s obliterated and saying no but never calls this assault or rape. She gets screwed over time and time again and talks about it like she’s leading the life that she wants and is only disturbed by it when she falls in love with a douche who pressures her into getting an abortion. By the way, she has sex with some random rocker that she doesn’t want to right after said abortion and never says that this may have been psychologically (and physically) harmful.
Throughout the entire book, she talks about sex like it’s no big deal even as she’s being pressured, raped, tricked, controlled, etc and is miserable. She never says that she was unhealthy. She makes this whole book to be an example of how women can have a lot of random sex “just like men” and how they want it just as bad to, don’t they?
It just baffles me that this woman is a WGS teacher and speaker and that this book is considered a feminist work that sexually liberates women. All I see is a traumatized, assaulted little girl that bases her worth on how and to whom she can give her body. This is never addressed. She never says that she had any issues.
This is what scares me about this movement. It’s speakers like this that tell young women that it’s perfectly okay for them to have as much sex as they want. Guys do it so they can too. It’s speakers like this that are almost disapproving of girls that don’t want to have sex. People like this don’t tell girls to develop healthy feelings and ideas about sex and to have a healthy self image before they embark into a sexual relationship.
And this idea of doing what the boys do? I think very few people are equipped to handle random hookups. I don’t think guys should do it either. Why do so many feminists want to bring women to men’s level? Maybe we had the right idea all along.
Moral of the story, “Last Living Slut” is a nightmare of bad decisions and people should be comfortable with themselves as people and as sexual beings before they have sex."
"I’ve been seeing a lot of posts about the topic of removing the bad connotation that goes with the word “slut”. There are slut-walks, books, articles, etc all with the idea that women should not be punished for having sex. They have an issue with the idea that a man can have a lot of sex and be called a stud while a woman is a slut. I fully support this. However, I recently read “The Last Living Slut Born in Iran, Bred Backstage” by Roxana Shirazi who is a Women and Gender Studies teacher and speaker. Her book opens with an introduction that sums up the anti-slut movement saying that women should not be persecuted for having sexual lives like men. Here is my first (of many) issue with this book. She keeps comparing women to men. Saying that women should be able to be “like men.” I’ve said before that my idea of feminism has very little to do with men. I’m not looking to lower them or to catch up. Feminism for me has to do with my rights and my abilities. I do not want to be “like men” at all. More on this later.
If you have not read this book, it is pretty much a compilation of the author’s rampant sex life starting from 5 years old going into her late 20’s. Shirazi starts by telling about her life as a child growing up in an unsteady Iran going through political revolts and overthrows. She sets herself up for a very poignant tale of a young girl adapting to her situation and going through the trials of political and familial change. Our first encounter with her sex life (and she includes this, calling it her sexual awakening) is when she is 5 years old and gets special attention from a border in her grandmothers house. He is middle aged and sexually assaults her while distracting her with cartoons. Instead of calling this the horrible assault it is, Shirazi calls herself a bad and lustful girl and talks about how she liked it. She makes it sexual and tries to titillate her audience. She is assaulted multiple times by another border later and it’s the same story, told in a way that you would find in bad erotica. The “I’m a dirty, naughty girl. Isn’t that sexy?” shtick. Again, she’s 5 years old. She says that she considers it her introduction to sex and sounds oddly grateful.
The rest of the book is a series of random hookups with rock stars. She sleeps with old, young (multiple 15 year olds when she’s 20+), drugged, drunk, whatever. She sleeps with people who will get her to the people she really wants. She sleeps with people when she doesn’t want to. She performs any kind of sexual act to get the attention on her. She has sex even when she’s obliterated and saying no but never calls this assault or rape. She gets screwed over time and time again and talks about it like she’s leading the life that she wants and is only disturbed by it when she falls in love with a douche who pressures her into getting an abortion. By the way, she has sex with some random rocker that she doesn’t want to right after said abortion and never says that this may have been psychologically (and physically) harmful.
Throughout the entire book, she talks about sex like it’s no big deal even as she’s being pressured, raped, tricked, controlled, etc and is miserable. She never says that she was unhealthy. She makes this whole book to be an example of how women can have a lot of random sex “just like men” and how they want it just as bad to, don’t they?
It just baffles me that this woman is a WGS teacher and speaker and that this book is considered a feminist work that sexually liberates women. All I see is a traumatized, assaulted little girl that bases her worth on how and to whom she can give her body. This is never addressed. She never says that she had any issues.
This is what scares me about this movement. It’s speakers like this that tell young women that it’s perfectly okay for them to have as much sex as they want. Guys do it so they can too. It’s speakers like this that are almost disapproving of girls that don’t want to have sex. People like this don’t tell girls to develop healthy feelings and ideas about sex and to have a healthy self image before they embark into a sexual relationship.
And this idea of doing what the boys do? I think very few people are equipped to handle random hookups. I don’t think guys should do it either. Why do so many feminists want to bring women to men’s level? Maybe we had the right idea all along.
Moral of the story, “Last Living Slut” is a nightmare of bad decisions and people should be comfortable with themselves as people and as sexual beings before they have sex."
March 9, 2011
In some ways, The Last Living Slut reminds me of Nikki Sixx's book, The Heroin Diaries, in that it details the excesses of the rock and roll lifestyle, but Nikki's book was much more compelling, and even more introspective (despite his inflated sense of self-importance). I can buy what Shirazi said in the beginning, that women should be free to have sex with a lot of partners, too, without the terrible judgments about their worth as humans. So after reading her discussion on the word slut, and the blurb on the back about female depravity, I was expecting a story about a woman who has a lot of sex and a lot of fun.
Well, there was a lot of sex, but it often didn't seem like much fun. I hate to say this, because I don't like the idea of anyone who enjoys a lot of sex being labeled as a "sex addict," but Shirazi's story reads more like the story of an addict. She was always chasing the next high, looking for "dirtier" things to do with more and more men and women, but she was inevitably disappointed. What satisfied her before wasn't enough anymore, and she ended up doing a lot of things, and a lot of people, that she didn't want to.
I can understand the appeal of collecting rock star notches on the bedpost as a recreational pursuit. Why not? Sounds more interesting than collecting stamps. But despite what she said, Shirazi wasn't satisfied with a lot of mindless fucking. Inevitably, she was looking for love, but she kept falling for any asshole who would show her the slightest kindness. I guess when you're used to being passed around, and then ordered to get the band something to eat, having someone kiss you or look into your eyes while you go down seems like real intimacy.
In the end, The Last Living Slut was more sad than empowered. I was sad for Shirazi and her empty, unfulfilled life, and I was even sad for the rockers who couldn't figure out how to find real love in the face of fame.
Well, there was a lot of sex, but it often didn't seem like much fun. I hate to say this, because I don't like the idea of anyone who enjoys a lot of sex being labeled as a "sex addict," but Shirazi's story reads more like the story of an addict. She was always chasing the next high, looking for "dirtier" things to do with more and more men and women, but she was inevitably disappointed. What satisfied her before wasn't enough anymore, and she ended up doing a lot of things, and a lot of people, that she didn't want to.
I can understand the appeal of collecting rock star notches on the bedpost as a recreational pursuit. Why not? Sounds more interesting than collecting stamps. But despite what she said, Shirazi wasn't satisfied with a lot of mindless fucking. Inevitably, she was looking for love, but she kept falling for any asshole who would show her the slightest kindness. I guess when you're used to being passed around, and then ordered to get the band something to eat, having someone kiss you or look into your eyes while you go down seems like real intimacy.
In the end, The Last Living Slut was more sad than empowered. I was sad for Shirazi and her empty, unfulfilled life, and I was even sad for the rockers who couldn't figure out how to find real love in the face of fame.
March 11, 2015
There is no other way to describe my reaction to this book than to say it HORRIFIED me.
I first learned of Roxana and her memoir via some feminist blogs. Here was a woman who spends her days speaking about Women's Issues and Gender Studies at universities and her nights banging rock stars. Sounds like a fascinating read, right? I was doubly intrigued when the book opened with an essay by the author decrying the prevalent "He's a stud; she's a slut" double standard. I settled in, ready to be equally titillated by tales of rock star debauchery and provoked by intelligent discussions of sexuality and feminism.
Well, holy shitsnackin' BALLS. Talk about not delivering.
The author of this book is F*cked Up with a capital F. And a capital U. She describes being molested as a child as if it were her sexual awakening. She measures her self-worth by the men she sleeps with. ("Ew. I'm way too important to do roadies.") She allows herself to be used and abused by men who she thinks care about her but treat her like garbage. I lost count of how many times she had sex with people she "really wasn't into" and at times when she "didn't really want to." Yeah, that's striking a blow for women's sexuality all right.
Here are some choice quotes by someone who, again, speaks at International Women's Conferences on the subject of Gender and Identity:
"I wasn't beautiful enough, cool or interesting enough, good enough. My one comfort was that I knew I could give good service in bed. That was my weapon to make me feel sturdy inside."
[on the subject of ugly girls]: "On other words, they're the easiest lay."
"I wasn't turned on at all. But it was the only way I could think of to get him to approve of me, to think I was a cool chick."
[after getting her heart broken]: I was a groupie. This is what I deserved... We were all meat. I had been slack, and I had paid the price."
[On having sex with a guy while she was bleeding profusely from an abortion the day before]: "He finished in my mouth. He was such a sweet guy. I felt bad he was grossed out."
I kept hoping this was all leading up to an epiphany about her way of thinking and that she would actually begin behaving like the sex-positive feminist who wrote the book's prologue, but no such luck. (Instead there's a weird tacked-on chapter about a pervy politician that leads nowhere.)
And let me be catty here for a second: If you're going to write a book about banging rock stars, maybe you should have stories about banging ACTUAL rock stars. Towers of London? Brides of Destruction? Enuff Z'nuff? Sebastian Bach? Fucking Buckcherry? What a bunch of C-list has-beens and never-weres. My favorite moment while reading came when she introduced a new guy by waxing poetic about his breathtaking beauty, concluding with: "He was the drummer for White Lion." I laughed for a full minute, easily. When the biggest names you've bedded are Steven Adler and Dizzy Reed, you're not exactly winning the Groupie Olympics.
The writing is soooo bad: "He sucked and devoured my body as if I were yummy chicken." "He clearly had a quivering wish of getting his penis in the vicinity of my vagina."
Furthermore, she can try her damnedest to give her story a quasi-feminist spin, but at the end of the day it's pretty cliched: Daddy issues, abused as a kid, underage stripper, promiscuous? Wow, what a completely new story that has never been told before and bucks so many stereotypes. (Also, the "Born in Iran" angle and the attention-grabbing cover photo of the author in her headscarf are pretty inconsequential to the story and obviously played up for PR.)
:-|
So why on Earth was this book even published? It's not like the world was really clamoring for details about the sexual proclivities of (snort) Buckcherry. (hahaha, sorry, I just can't.... I mean, it's fucking BUCKCHERRY. Bwahahaha!!!!!)
I first learned of Roxana and her memoir via some feminist blogs. Here was a woman who spends her days speaking about Women's Issues and Gender Studies at universities and her nights banging rock stars. Sounds like a fascinating read, right? I was doubly intrigued when the book opened with an essay by the author decrying the prevalent "He's a stud; she's a slut" double standard. I settled in, ready to be equally titillated by tales of rock star debauchery and provoked by intelligent discussions of sexuality and feminism.
Well, holy shitsnackin' BALLS. Talk about not delivering.
The author of this book is F*cked Up with a capital F. And a capital U. She describes being molested as a child as if it were her sexual awakening. She measures her self-worth by the men she sleeps with. ("Ew. I'm way too important to do roadies.") She allows herself to be used and abused by men who she thinks care about her but treat her like garbage. I lost count of how many times she had sex with people she "really wasn't into" and at times when she "didn't really want to." Yeah, that's striking a blow for women's sexuality all right.
Here are some choice quotes by someone who, again, speaks at International Women's Conferences on the subject of Gender and Identity:
"I wasn't beautiful enough, cool or interesting enough, good enough. My one comfort was that I knew I could give good service in bed. That was my weapon to make me feel sturdy inside."
[on the subject of ugly girls]: "On other words, they're the easiest lay."
"I wasn't turned on at all. But it was the only way I could think of to get him to approve of me, to think I was a cool chick."
[after getting her heart broken]: I was a groupie. This is what I deserved... We were all meat. I had been slack, and I had paid the price."
[On having sex with a guy while she was bleeding profusely from an abortion the day before]: "He finished in my mouth. He was such a sweet guy. I felt bad he was grossed out."
I kept hoping this was all leading up to an epiphany about her way of thinking and that she would actually begin behaving like the sex-positive feminist who wrote the book's prologue, but no such luck. (Instead there's a weird tacked-on chapter about a pervy politician that leads nowhere.)
And let me be catty here for a second: If you're going to write a book about banging rock stars, maybe you should have stories about banging ACTUAL rock stars. Towers of London? Brides of Destruction? Enuff Z'nuff? Sebastian Bach? Fucking Buckcherry? What a bunch of C-list has-beens and never-weres. My favorite moment while reading came when she introduced a new guy by waxing poetic about his breathtaking beauty, concluding with: "He was the drummer for White Lion." I laughed for a full minute, easily. When the biggest names you've bedded are Steven Adler and Dizzy Reed, you're not exactly winning the Groupie Olympics.
The writing is soooo bad: "He sucked and devoured my body as if I were yummy chicken." "He clearly had a quivering wish of getting his penis in the vicinity of my vagina."
Furthermore, she can try her damnedest to give her story a quasi-feminist spin, but at the end of the day it's pretty cliched: Daddy issues, abused as a kid, underage stripper, promiscuous? Wow, what a completely new story that has never been told before and bucks so many stereotypes. (Also, the "Born in Iran" angle and the attention-grabbing cover photo of the author in her headscarf are pretty inconsequential to the story and obviously played up for PR.)
:-|
So why on Earth was this book even published? It's not like the world was really clamoring for details about the sexual proclivities of (snort) Buckcherry. (hahaha, sorry, I just can't.... I mean, it's fucking BUCKCHERRY. Bwahahaha!!!!!)
December 12, 2012
Shirazi writes about her life following has been hair band bad boys that never grew up, and hair bands that never made it. She seems to think that this is somehow a cool thing. The jacket compares itself to "I'm With The Band," but don't be fooled, this is a book about sex in every demeaning way that woman can have it. If you don't feel soiled after reading this, don't worry, I feel soiled enough for all of us.
August 30, 2016
I was told that this was the modern “I’m With the Band”, and in a way it is. It is about a woman who has a rock star fetish and feels she should be free to have as much sex as she wants with however many partners she wants. And yeah, that’s perfectly fine: I am all about sex-positivism, and if you want to brag about fucking as many rock stars as you can, I applaud you. But something in Shirazi’s story just doesn’t feel quite in line with what she claims to be and want.
The way sex is described in this book makes me wonder if the author is not simply a sex addict trying to find a moral and social justification for doing what she does. Shirazi talks about wanting to be able to have sex “like a man”, by which she means random hookups. Her whole lifestyle seems to be based on this outdated generalization about male sexuality. At no given point does it sound to me like she is empowered by her sexuality, especially when there is frequent mention of childhood molestation and sex with partners she didn’t really want to be with – but who could subsequently give her access to the people she DID want to sleep with… She gets into one abusive relationship after another: the depraved sex acts she described don’t shock me, but the way she allows these men to treat her outside the bedroom is simply infuriating. Getting pressured into getting an abortion by a guy and then proceeding to have “revenge sex” with all of his bandmates is not empowerment. If anything, it’s as cliché as it gets in terms of women acting crazy.
In “I’m With the Band”, the young Pamela Des Barres is reckless and promiscuous, and while she faces heartbreaks and disappointments, she sounds like she is always having fun and holds some standards for herself, which Shirazi really doesn’t. Des Barres is by no means a deep intellectual, but her earnestness and genuinely kind heart make her memoirs endearing even when she acts like a complete idiot. She always supported and helped out her fellow groupies. Shirazi talks about other women as if they are all competitors, and she is condescending and snide with the younger groupies she meets.
In the end, this book just made me feel sad. There was no introspection on Shirazi’s part until the last few pages, when she realizes she is really looking for someone who cares for her, and that men will shamelessly use women for sex whether they are rock stars or politicians. Ouch, what an insight… She hadn’t figured that out when she was working in those super hypocritical Muslim “strip clubs”?
I don’t see this book as a feminist work in any way. Sure, it’s about a woman who is shameless about having whatever kind of sex she wants, but she never sounds fully comfortable with it, nor do any of her actions sound like those of a healthy and stable person. This book probably made publishers drool, thinking they could sell a lot of copies on sheer shock value, but it’s honestly not even that shocking… Avoid it.
The way sex is described in this book makes me wonder if the author is not simply a sex addict trying to find a moral and social justification for doing what she does. Shirazi talks about wanting to be able to have sex “like a man”, by which she means random hookups. Her whole lifestyle seems to be based on this outdated generalization about male sexuality. At no given point does it sound to me like she is empowered by her sexuality, especially when there is frequent mention of childhood molestation and sex with partners she didn’t really want to be with – but who could subsequently give her access to the people she DID want to sleep with… She gets into one abusive relationship after another: the depraved sex acts she described don’t shock me, but the way she allows these men to treat her outside the bedroom is simply infuriating. Getting pressured into getting an abortion by a guy and then proceeding to have “revenge sex” with all of his bandmates is not empowerment. If anything, it’s as cliché as it gets in terms of women acting crazy.
In “I’m With the Band”, the young Pamela Des Barres is reckless and promiscuous, and while she faces heartbreaks and disappointments, she sounds like she is always having fun and holds some standards for herself, which Shirazi really doesn’t. Des Barres is by no means a deep intellectual, but her earnestness and genuinely kind heart make her memoirs endearing even when she acts like a complete idiot. She always supported and helped out her fellow groupies. Shirazi talks about other women as if they are all competitors, and she is condescending and snide with the younger groupies she meets.
In the end, this book just made me feel sad. There was no introspection on Shirazi’s part until the last few pages, when she realizes she is really looking for someone who cares for her, and that men will shamelessly use women for sex whether they are rock stars or politicians. Ouch, what an insight… She hadn’t figured that out when she was working in those super hypocritical Muslim “strip clubs”?
I don’t see this book as a feminist work in any way. Sure, it’s about a woman who is shameless about having whatever kind of sex she wants, but she never sounds fully comfortable with it, nor do any of her actions sound like those of a healthy and stable person. This book probably made publishers drool, thinking they could sell a lot of copies on sheer shock value, but it’s honestly not even that shocking… Avoid it.
August 19, 2010
This book was truly a difficult read. Although the author seemed to want to portray herself as a woman fully in control of her own sexuality, a vast majority of these stories played out more like someone who has been used and used bad. Being underage, being too drunk to consent - lots of moments were truly questionable from even the basest feminist perspective.
On a more shallow tip, I couldn't believe what nobody bands this girl was bragging about playing groupie to. You got f*ck*d by everybody in Buckcherry? Who cares? Name one song of theirs! Who is Towers of London? And Guns'n'Roses might have been a great band name to drop if it was, say, 1990, but any time after 2000 you're getting (way)laid by a band most people think is a joke anyway.
I'm all for books about whoring it up, but this was not the one for me.
On a more shallow tip, I couldn't believe what nobody bands this girl was bragging about playing groupie to. You got f*ck*d by everybody in Buckcherry? Who cares? Name one song of theirs! Who is Towers of London? And Guns'n'Roses might have been a great band name to drop if it was, say, 1990, but any time after 2000 you're getting (way)laid by a band most people think is a joke anyway.
I'm all for books about whoring it up, but this was not the one for me.
June 21, 2010
Oh, Roxana. I loved the pictures in your book! Especially the glossy color ones of you on your back and where did you get those shoes? But, honey. You did *not* discover the contradiction that guys can screw a lot of women and be hailed as gods, while women who love sex are reviled "sluts." This is an old idea -- older, even, than your beloved Foucault, whom you pretentiously allude to as an intellectual touchstone in contrast with your backstage shenanigans.
And: water sports? Really? What would Virginia Woolf say?
I want to love you -- so many guys seemed to want to love you -- but your empowerment was in the end, kind of depressing and hollow. A molested four year-old grows into a metal groupie with disassociative disorder. You fell in love with Dizzy Reed? Really? I hope you find happy. Your book made me sad -- but I could not put it down!
And: water sports? Really? What would Virginia Woolf say?
I want to love you -- so many guys seemed to want to love you -- but your empowerment was in the end, kind of depressing and hollow. A molested four year-old grows into a metal groupie with disassociative disorder. You fell in love with Dizzy Reed? Really? I hope you find happy. Your book made me sad -- but I could not put it down!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 3, 2010
This book was a disappointment. I was intrigued by the premise of a Persian girl who came of age sexually in post-revolutionary Tehran and then ended up a rock & roll groupie.
Ms. Shirazi's introductory words on the word "slut" and the publisher's introduction made me think this book would be a uniquely feminist take on a woman who chose to turn the tables on rock stars sexually.
Alas this book was more tragic than empowering. Ms. Shirazi's tale might have an interesting international angle, but in the end it is not that different than the tales of many strippers/porn stars here in the U.S.:
Early sexual abuse - check
Daddy issues - check
Allowing men to treat her like crap - check
It was sad seeing her sublimate her intellectual side while engaging in wanton exploits with rock stars...most of whom did not seem to care about her or treat her with true respect.
Ms. Shirazi's introductory words on the word "slut" and the publisher's introduction made me think this book would be a uniquely feminist take on a woman who chose to turn the tables on rock stars sexually.
Alas this book was more tragic than empowering. Ms. Shirazi's tale might have an interesting international angle, but in the end it is not that different than the tales of many strippers/porn stars here in the U.S.:
Early sexual abuse - check
Daddy issues - check
Allowing men to treat her like crap - check
It was sad seeing her sublimate her intellectual side while engaging in wanton exploits with rock stars...most of whom did not seem to care about her or treat her with true respect.
May 17, 2011
**spoilers**
This boook....WOW. It was gut wrenchingly real. Is that a word? I'm not sure.
She was born and raised in Tehran,Iran. Gunshots and bombings right outside her door were a normal everyday thing.
There were alot of parts that made me uncomfortable like grown ass men sleeping with her in Tehran. How she masturbated to a Guns n Roses video when she was a pre teen.
Gross things....how she would be on her period and still go bang the groups and groupies. *shudder*
How she got that abortion and the next day or so she's banging dudes from Buckcherry while her abortion runs down her leg. *gag* WTF?!
But all in all, There was more to it than those disturbing scenes and for that I couldn't stop reading. Maybe I'm a disturbed individual. But if you think this is going to be a cute little memoir of going to concerts and cute little sex scenes, don't even bother. This girl bangs her way through these groups like a pro! And heck, she was a groupie and she did it well.
This boook....WOW. It was gut wrenchingly real. Is that a word? I'm not sure.
She was born and raised in Tehran,Iran. Gunshots and bombings right outside her door were a normal everyday thing.
There were alot of parts that made me uncomfortable like grown ass men sleeping with her in Tehran. How she masturbated to a Guns n Roses video when she was a pre teen.
Gross things....how she would be on her period and still go bang the groups and groupies. *shudder*
How she got that abortion and the next day or so she's banging dudes from Buckcherry while her abortion runs down her leg. *gag* WTF?!
But all in all, There was more to it than those disturbing scenes and for that I couldn't stop reading. Maybe I'm a disturbed individual. But if you think this is going to be a cute little memoir of going to concerts and cute little sex scenes, don't even bother. This girl bangs her way through these groups like a pro! And heck, she was a groupie and she did it well.
January 26, 2012
This book seemed so promising! A girl who escapes from Iran and grows into her sexuality! But I was definitely disappointed. This book just seemed like a lot of name dropping, and the author seemed like she only wanted to shock. There are some great books that talk about sexual exploits in a frank way (The Sexual Life of Catherine M. comes to mind) that are interesting, but this isn't one of them. Also, I have a huge problem with someone who has a Masters in Gender Studies who calls people "not man enough" when they decide to not have sex with her... And then also whines about the double standards women face.
This book had so much potential, but I just wouldn't suggest this book to anyone.
This book had so much potential, but I just wouldn't suggest this book to anyone.
November 2, 2012
She gets pissed because people are being hypocritical when she manages to contradict herself repeatedly.
I would have probably liked it better if she just straight out admitted she was a groupie instead of trying to hide behind the bullshit about reclaiming the word slut and sexual freedom.
I see sexual freedom as having sex with whoever you want not feeling obligated to have sex with every guy in a band that asks you to. This was more depressing than liberating.
I would have probably liked it better if she just straight out admitted she was a groupie instead of trying to hide behind the bullshit about reclaiming the word slut and sexual freedom.
I see sexual freedom as having sex with whoever you want not feeling obligated to have sex with every guy in a band that asks you to. This was more depressing than liberating.
August 3, 2016
Although I do not like putting a book down once I start reading it, if this would have been an option for me, it would have been put down, never to be looked at again before page 20. Because this book was required reading for a course, I had no choice but to trudge through.
The book is part penthouse letter (and a very badly written one at that), part political memoir (and I use that term loosely, having read real political memoirs that make this look juvenile at best, a little girl scream for attention at worst), and part blinking light, with a siren wailing in the background crying out "Look at me!" I won't even entertain this being a rock n' roll memoir, because, really, it's dealing with second rate bands that make the radio rotation of every pop music station in the country - and real rock n' roll isn't generic - unlike the men she slept with.
I believe that the sections dealing with Iran could have been left out of this memoir. It really didn't give the book much context at all, and her bringing up Iran seemed more to do with riding the wave of books on experience in Iran being published in the last few years than offering anything to the narrative except for her boasting she started masturbating at age 5. The fact that she decided to use Iran in the title, pretty much tells me everything I need to know in how she and the publishing company were trying to market her and this book.
The writing is horrible. Horrible. I expected much better writing from someone with a masters in fiction. Dramatic moments were glossed over, she did much more telling of the story than showing throughout the story, and she threw in so many things that didn't relate to the story at all, but game shock factor. There were several dramatic moments that she missed the mark on, particularly in the time where her life goes into a dark place of depression. Much more could have been done to build this up, expand on it, and really convey what was happening at that time. Instead of taking the time to develop this, though, she inserts more sexcapades.
As much as this book was meant to shock and awe and author unintentionally chronicles her life not being a groupie (because that is exactly what she was) but her life of low self-esteem and mental health issues.
After reading this book, I googled the author and learned that she was writing and posing for Hustler. In reading one article she wrote for Penthouse, she discusses Iran's underground sex party, while photos of her in naked, compromising positions where islamic clothing are inserted throughout. I wasn't surprised. It was more of the "Look at me!" behavior demonstrated throughout the book, trying to be controversial and bold not for the same of controversy or awareness, but because it is the only way this woman can be relevant.
Do yourself a favor and read some of the other great rock n roll memoirs and skip this one.
The book is part penthouse letter (and a very badly written one at that), part political memoir (and I use that term loosely, having read real political memoirs that make this look juvenile at best, a little girl scream for attention at worst), and part blinking light, with a siren wailing in the background crying out "Look at me!" I won't even entertain this being a rock n' roll memoir, because, really, it's dealing with second rate bands that make the radio rotation of every pop music station in the country - and real rock n' roll isn't generic - unlike the men she slept with.
I believe that the sections dealing with Iran could have been left out of this memoir. It really didn't give the book much context at all, and her bringing up Iran seemed more to do with riding the wave of books on experience in Iran being published in the last few years than offering anything to the narrative except for her boasting she started masturbating at age 5. The fact that she decided to use Iran in the title, pretty much tells me everything I need to know in how she and the publishing company were trying to market her and this book.
The writing is horrible. Horrible. I expected much better writing from someone with a masters in fiction. Dramatic moments were glossed over, she did much more telling of the story than showing throughout the story, and she threw in so many things that didn't relate to the story at all, but game shock factor. There were several dramatic moments that she missed the mark on, particularly in the time where her life goes into a dark place of depression. Much more could have been done to build this up, expand on it, and really convey what was happening at that time. Instead of taking the time to develop this, though, she inserts more sexcapades.
As much as this book was meant to shock and awe and author unintentionally chronicles her life not being a groupie (because that is exactly what she was) but her life of low self-esteem and mental health issues.
After reading this book, I googled the author and learned that she was writing and posing for Hustler. In reading one article she wrote for Penthouse, she discusses Iran's underground sex party, while photos of her in naked, compromising positions where islamic clothing are inserted throughout. I wasn't surprised. It was more of the "Look at me!" behavior demonstrated throughout the book, trying to be controversial and bold not for the same of controversy or awareness, but because it is the only way this woman can be relevant.
Do yourself a favor and read some of the other great rock n roll memoirs and skip this one.
July 10, 2017
A lot of reviewers were excessively harsh in their reviews of this book, many readers being appalled by Shirazi's promiscuity and life choices. They are judging this book by their morals, not on the book-ness of the book and this is a bit unfair. I loved the author's candor and fearlessness, she is unapologetic about what she has done, and good for her! It is a groupie memoir and delivers just that, it's fun, crazy and a quick and nutty read. My only complaint (hence the 4 stars) is that it seems to have been poorly edited, as if chapters were omitted and continuity is not always clear. It's not a Shakespearian level of writing but it's not meant to be, it's just dirty fun.
May 25, 2012
This was a juicy read for sure, and I couldn't put it down. But I was troubled by a few things. The author seemed to think that her sexual prowess came from this deep inner lust, but her history (molested at five, beaten by her stepfather) really made her just a cliche. Pamela des Barnes' book, while tame in comparison, was at least a story of female empowerment as a groupie, whereas I ended up feeling sorry for Roxana and her lack of even a morsel of self-respect. Still, a great read for anyone who wants the dirt on '80s rockers and the lifestyle.
November 13, 2025
Nothing about this memoir is worth reading for. She complains about not being recognized for her philosophical and literary thoughts, yet she shares not a single real thought. The entire book — one of the worst I’ve ever read — is recount after recount of her groupie sex scenes. I love sex, but each of her experiences were robotic and missing all eroticism. Maybe it’s just her writing that makes her story feel enormously pointless, but I think that if no message can be driven home AND no entertainment can be provided, then there is nothing for the audience to take away.
January 6, 2015
Get ready to pull out your inner psychiatrist, imaginary prescription pad and the invisible Freudian-style therapy couch, this author is going to take you on a ride. By ride I mean a pathetic attempt at feminism cloaked in the nauseating cliché of the emotionally/psychologically/physically abused child/adolescent/adult female that becomes a promiscuous tween, stripper teen and ultimately, adult slut. The stories are sad and will prompt sympathy. The same sympathy that will turn a fun book about all of our favorite subject (sex!) into an embarrassing melodrama that may provoke the reader to look over his or her shoulder for fear of being caught enjoying something supposedly sexy when the foundation of the entire plot is psychiatric illness. Your first question will undoubtingly be “How does she NOT have AIDS”.
This book is meant to be sexy, it isn’t. It is sleazy at best and by sleazy I don’t mean the amateur porn videos on myexgirlfriend.com websites. This is a memoir from a nymphomaniac with pedophilic tendencies, induced by virulent low self- esteem and a fantasy sense of self-worth. She is helped kindly by stuffing excess lard into a corset and stumbling across the world in 8 inch stilettos, intoxicated by an unknown combination of alcohol, coke and good ol’ GHB (AKA, the date rape drug).
The idea is old: I have boobs, I have a$$, I can show it off and men look at me and want to bang me. Therefore I have power.
The author has sabotaged her sense of logic by confusing that no-name D-level band-members wanting to bang her and letting her follow them around to disgusting, cheap motels around the world at her own expense, to having worth and being respected. The main theme of the story is that. She’ll have sex with any bandmember, anyone associated with the band, individually, many at once, or all at once, in any orifice of her body repeatedly. Protection not necessary. She follows bands nobody cares about around for these sexual escapades and garners an intense feeling of pride from being among the chosen few by the band in a crowd of snagle-toothed English women. She also tots around and befriends some other loser women dressed like cumdumpsters at more pathetic attempts to steal the show by engaging in sexual activity with them in front of the men.
The book is entertaining. My diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder.
This book is meant to be sexy, it isn’t. It is sleazy at best and by sleazy I don’t mean the amateur porn videos on myexgirlfriend.com websites. This is a memoir from a nymphomaniac with pedophilic tendencies, induced by virulent low self- esteem and a fantasy sense of self-worth. She is helped kindly by stuffing excess lard into a corset and stumbling across the world in 8 inch stilettos, intoxicated by an unknown combination of alcohol, coke and good ol’ GHB (AKA, the date rape drug).
The idea is old: I have boobs, I have a$$, I can show it off and men look at me and want to bang me. Therefore I have power.
The author has sabotaged her sense of logic by confusing that no-name D-level band-members wanting to bang her and letting her follow them around to disgusting, cheap motels around the world at her own expense, to having worth and being respected. The main theme of the story is that. She’ll have sex with any bandmember, anyone associated with the band, individually, many at once, or all at once, in any orifice of her body repeatedly. Protection not necessary. She follows bands nobody cares about around for these sexual escapades and garners an intense feeling of pride from being among the chosen few by the band in a crowd of snagle-toothed English women. She also tots around and befriends some other loser women dressed like cumdumpsters at more pathetic attempts to steal the show by engaging in sexual activity with them in front of the men.
The book is entertaining. My diagnosis: Borderline Personality Disorder.
January 23, 2012
"The Last Living Slut" was billed as a scandalous tell-all exploration into the seedy world of a modern rockstar groupie. Unfortunately, on this account, it just does not deliver. What Roxana Shirazi has produced herein is the biography of a sexually-abused young Iranian woman who, with her beloved grandmother at her side, escapes political persecution in her homeland, only to take up a debauched life in the UK years later. The names that are named are largely all B-grade musicians at best (Dizzy Reed, Towers of London, Kid Ego, Avenged Sevenfold, Steven Adler, L.A. Guns, etc.), and the details on these couplings will leave you pitying Ms. Shirazi's misguided attempts rather than waving a flag for 'Girl Power'. Not an altogether bad author, Shirazi's prose maintain some poetic moments; though her unoriginal tale of rock n' roll excess is decidely lacking in shock and awe.
July 27, 2011
Absolutely awful, and a huge disappointment.. this was reviewed in Bust magazine so I was hoping for an interesting academic take on the juxtaposition between Roxana's childhood under the Shah's restrictive regime and her new life as an immigrant in England. The first few chapters about her childhod in Tehran are readable, but the book quickly degenerates into an unorganized, inconsistent and poorly written account of sordid sex with also-ran English rock bands (you haven't heard of any of them.) I expected pleasing sleaziness but this was just the unconnected diary entries of a confused wwoman . The extra half star is for the beautiful design on the book.
March 14, 2012
Shirazi would like us to believe that this is a tale of female sexual liberation by rock 'n' roll groupie royalty. However, I viewed it as a somewhat disturbing account of a troubled young woman who allowed herself to be used and abused by a bunch of B-list morons. In particular, Shirazi's description of sex with Josh Todd and Matt Sorum made me feel physically sick.
Overall, I did find the book very enjoyable and I admire her honesty. I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys rock biographies. It's well worth a read.
Overall, I did find the book very enjoyable and I admire her honesty. I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys rock biographies. It's well worth a read.
June 2, 2014
I went into this book with high hopes. Certainly a well-educated woman that publicly speaks on the topic of feminism at universities throughout Europe wouldn't fulfill every stereotype, right? What a let down. After reading this, I truly fill sorry for Roxana Shirazi and her warped sense of love and friendship. I hope she one day gets the help she so desperately needs.
March 10, 2025
✨2.5 rounded up✨
I’m really torn on this one. I haven’t quite determined how I felt about it. I feel like I know way too much about Roxana Shirazi’s sexual appetite and her conquests. But I don’t really feel like I know her as a person. In the last 50 pages I was really wondering why she liked the rock stars she was following around for the entire middle section of the book. I understood that she enjoyed them sexually. But what more was there to them? There had to be something beyond sex to go through all that trouble. The men she depicted seemed, at best, boring and immature, and at worst were abusive addicts who I would never want to be in the same room with. But what was enticing about them was missing. And that’s what leaves me torn. There were more descriptions of outfits than there were notes on her actual feelings on what happened to her. Intensely sexual to the point of grossness, depraved, painful, and yet devoid of deep reflection. I'm left wanting more, while also never wanting to go back.
I’m really torn on this one. I haven’t quite determined how I felt about it. I feel like I know way too much about Roxana Shirazi’s sexual appetite and her conquests. But I don’t really feel like I know her as a person. In the last 50 pages I was really wondering why she liked the rock stars she was following around for the entire middle section of the book. I understood that she enjoyed them sexually. But what more was there to them? There had to be something beyond sex to go through all that trouble. The men she depicted seemed, at best, boring and immature, and at worst were abusive addicts who I would never want to be in the same room with. But what was enticing about them was missing. And that’s what leaves me torn. There were more descriptions of outfits than there were notes on her actual feelings on what happened to her. Intensely sexual to the point of grossness, depraved, painful, and yet devoid of deep reflection. I'm left wanting more, while also never wanting to go back.
January 29, 2025
Girl, this was fucking harrowing. Her recollections were so vile and with the most putrescent people.
I love a groupie memoir because I love hearing about the scene from the women who experienced it but Whole Shits, I barely knew who what when where between graphic recountings of mostly traumatizing flings with fucking 2000s butt rock losers and washed up old has beens.
My rose colored glasses only filter the 60s & 70s I reckon.
Hope she’s healing, good grief.
I love a groupie memoir because I love hearing about the scene from the women who experienced it but Whole Shits, I barely knew who what when where between graphic recountings of mostly traumatizing flings with fucking 2000s butt rock losers and washed up old has beens.
My rose colored glasses only filter the 60s & 70s I reckon.
Hope she’s healing, good grief.
August 2, 2023
This book was a very interesting read but definitely not for the faint of heart. It delved very deep into the world of sex, drugs, and rock n roll.
February 9, 2011
The reader controversy surrounding this book is understandable; the content IS rather raunchy and explicit, but where some classify the work in its entirety as sad, blasphemous self-promotion, others (myself included) would call it an interesting look into a lifestyle that is both foreign and interesting. At the beginning of the book Roxana includes a preface that explains how she views the word "slut" and how she hopes to take it back from its derogatory, defaming usage. She voices her opinion that a woman can be sexual and a "slut" by definition (having sex with many partners) if she wants to, just as men have that socially-backed right. It is her hope that she will achieve this reclamation through telling her tale. Whether or not she achieves this is left up to the reader.
The background she includes about her life in Iran in the first few chapters can be fascinating to someone unfamiliar with the Middle Eastern world. With the unsteady political state of the country casting a sometimes violent and oppressive backdrop, she explores her family life and sexual awakening -- an awakening that had ties to rock and roll even from her position on the other side of the world. In a lot of ways, the subject matter she explores in her childhood includes themes that every person can identify with in their own childhood no matter their origin: the safety of a family member's arms, the riotous fun with neighborhood kids, the series of crushes and rising feelings of romance. When she moves to England with her grandmother, escaping the dictatorship rule of Iran and the abusive nature of her step-father, she is forced to acclimate in a foreign country where she is called "smelly" and bullied. She eventually comes into her own, with the help of rock and roll, and proceeds to build a life that is filled with academics and sexcapades with various bands all across London and beyond.
The rest of the book can be seen as a strung-out raunch fest. Unless the reader knows the bands and members she's referencing, it can get confusing to tell them apart as they cycle in and out of view. But her recollections of her sexual encounters are very clear and entertaining to read, her voice a humorous and sometimes self-deprecating thing that presents these rock gods with all the veneration (or sometimes unease) she was feeling at the time. Eventually, all the fun and games get interrupted by some emotional hiccups that include an abortion and falling in love, which inevitably comes with getting her heart broken. Along with acknowledging that rock n' roll is not a place to harvest emotions of love and fondness, she also addresses the strain that is put on her two very defined personas: her academic, nerdy self that loves books and the university, and her weekend sex goddess personality that will do anything for the aging men that inhabit the stage. Overall, Roxana Shirazi's time in the limelight as the most infamous groupie is recounted with intimate, humorous, outrageous detail that, if taken with a grain of salt, can be a riotous and fun read.
The background she includes about her life in Iran in the first few chapters can be fascinating to someone unfamiliar with the Middle Eastern world. With the unsteady political state of the country casting a sometimes violent and oppressive backdrop, she explores her family life and sexual awakening -- an awakening that had ties to rock and roll even from her position on the other side of the world. In a lot of ways, the subject matter she explores in her childhood includes themes that every person can identify with in their own childhood no matter their origin: the safety of a family member's arms, the riotous fun with neighborhood kids, the series of crushes and rising feelings of romance. When she moves to England with her grandmother, escaping the dictatorship rule of Iran and the abusive nature of her step-father, she is forced to acclimate in a foreign country where she is called "smelly" and bullied. She eventually comes into her own, with the help of rock and roll, and proceeds to build a life that is filled with academics and sexcapades with various bands all across London and beyond.
The rest of the book can be seen as a strung-out raunch fest. Unless the reader knows the bands and members she's referencing, it can get confusing to tell them apart as they cycle in and out of view. But her recollections of her sexual encounters are very clear and entertaining to read, her voice a humorous and sometimes self-deprecating thing that presents these rock gods with all the veneration (or sometimes unease) she was feeling at the time. Eventually, all the fun and games get interrupted by some emotional hiccups that include an abortion and falling in love, which inevitably comes with getting her heart broken. Along with acknowledging that rock n' roll is not a place to harvest emotions of love and fondness, she also addresses the strain that is put on her two very defined personas: her academic, nerdy self that loves books and the university, and her weekend sex goddess personality that will do anything for the aging men that inhabit the stage. Overall, Roxana Shirazi's time in the limelight as the most infamous groupie is recounted with intimate, humorous, outrageous detail that, if taken with a grain of salt, can be a riotous and fun read.
March 12, 2017
This is one of those books that will make you think, what exactly am I reading here? You know it's not fiction so you take it seriously, layer on the judgement, fear and incredulity. The writing was really good. First I thought, very disjointed but then it works, weird as it was. I mean how else do you bring to life all the debauchery. Reading it sometimes as a woman I was horrified, first the child abuse, then sex shortly after the abortion. When you think of all of the degrading, humiliating sexual things that can happen to you, happened here, but aren't they sometimes also our deepest desires or in the least curiosities? Gang bangs, double-triple penetrations, period sex... it seems, any dirty 'ol thing you can think of happening here happens. And then the contradictions, and I mean you can't blame her for those. Life is full of contradictions, people are full of contradictions, who is ever completely straight with who and what they are, we all have an idea of what we'd like to be in theory, but life happens, and we do what we can in that moment. So reviewers that blame her for that, well, can we really? What this book is really precious for is it's honesty and rawness, her hurt and savage tragedy so clear on display. And by tragedy, I mean, most likely tragic to us, readers so clearly disturbed by the images she brings forth. For her, I think was an expression of her selves, herself as a sexual being, her sexual freedom (even though she lost it, misjudged it at times, abused it, let others abuse it) but in the end it happens in life, no one has ever total control over anything, and we have honesty here, in the manner of her saying this is who I am and I am living my authentic life in the best way I can. If anyone reads my reviews, I don't write much. But this, even though I skimmed lots of it, was very honest and thought provoking, rarely do you find something so incredibly truthful out there.
July 5, 2010
So, first things first: Yes, I picked this book up in hopes of a randy good-time depiction of groupiedom and wretched rock'n'roll excess. But "YMMV" varies most in the realm of the randy. There's a fair amount of Playboy or Penthouse level depiction, but little that engaged this reviewer's libido.
Far stronger are the parts of the autobiography devoted to Roxana's childhood in Iran, where her writing is at its best.
Once she arrives in England, her teenage and young-adulthood adulation of certain rockers -- when these are well past their primes (Axl Rose, Nikki Sixx, etc.) and whose music seems utterly throwaway to me -- points up the illusions underpinning all our individual fanships: fan-tasies, fan-aticisms, whatever.
Her backstage sexploits fall afoul of the basic limitations of human congress. As a much better musician, singer, lyricist, and performer, Jarvis Cocker of Pulp, put it, "That goes in there / Then that goes in there / Then that goes in there / Then that goes in there / And then it's over".
In the end, this seems a story familiar to us all in its general outline: Hope spurs on experience, disillusion follows and prompts extremity, crash and retreat, repeat. Underneath the after-midnight sodium-lit drying-sweat adrenaline-hangover smoke-hazed tinnitus-eared half-asleep funk is the never-quite-met desire to belong to someone, or somewhere, somehow. The squalor in our lives turns out, finally, to have been primarily emotional.
Far stronger are the parts of the autobiography devoted to Roxana's childhood in Iran, where her writing is at its best.
Once she arrives in England, her teenage and young-adulthood adulation of certain rockers -- when these are well past their primes (Axl Rose, Nikki Sixx, etc.) and whose music seems utterly throwaway to me -- points up the illusions underpinning all our individual fanships: fan-tasies, fan-aticisms, whatever.
Her backstage sexploits fall afoul of the basic limitations of human congress. As a much better musician, singer, lyricist, and performer, Jarvis Cocker of Pulp, put it, "That goes in there / Then that goes in there / Then that goes in there / Then that goes in there / And then it's over".
In the end, this seems a story familiar to us all in its general outline: Hope spurs on experience, disillusion follows and prompts extremity, crash and retreat, repeat. Underneath the after-midnight sodium-lit drying-sweat adrenaline-hangover smoke-hazed tinnitus-eared half-asleep funk is the never-quite-met desire to belong to someone, or somewhere, somehow. The squalor in our lives turns out, finally, to have been primarily emotional.
September 1, 2024
the inconsistencies and contradictions were frustrating, it feels like this has been repackaged to give it a feminist angle...that isn't there.
We miss a huge chunk of time, we move from being in her 20s and working belly dancing to 2004 when she's 30/31, when she meets/sleeps with the drummer from Sterophonics (after having a pal push a bit of bathsponge up her vagina cos she's on her period) then decides to embrace the 'lifestyle'.
I didn't really follow he Kid Ego story, she's 32 and goes to see this young, teenage band, she goes 'backstage' into the room where the 2 bands are and takes off all her clothes, then they're back at the hotel. So, she took off her clothes, then got a 'put youy clothes back on love'. They go back to the hotel and she has what sounds like pretty unfilfilling sex'he thurst in a few times and came' but does a 'I had my fill with these rock boys'.. shagging a 16yr old boy? ..really??
She then goes to LA to stir the pot with Dizzy, running her mouth telling everyone who knows him or works with him about their relationship and her abortion....she's 33. They were only physically together a few days, and she was the one who kept telling him she didn't want a relationship (as it seemed like she had her eye on a different band member, a better prize).
The 'I was molested and abused by neighbours as a 5 yr old' being repackaged into 'I'm a dirty girl who deserves this/i'm a bad girl who belongs in this room' vibes was WEIRD & creepy...the repeated references to exploring other childrens bodies...yeh, maybe cos all these little kids were trying to make sense of the sexual abuse they've probably suffered... this wasn't 'I was always a sexually curious and precocious and had urges early' this may be to do with having 2 different abusers and never speaking about the abuse.
We miss a huge chunk of time, we move from being in her 20s and working belly dancing to 2004 when she's 30/31, when she meets/sleeps with the drummer from Sterophonics (after having a pal push a bit of bathsponge up her vagina cos she's on her period) then decides to embrace the 'lifestyle'.
The first year or 2 she pals around with Lori....a 17 year old schoolgirl she occasionally sleeps with who doesn't know her parents & is lonely and vulerable. Maybe as a grown adult in your 30s, it's not a great idea to be sleeping with with people still in highschool? Even if Lori wanted to do these things too herself, the idea of a woman in her 30s, dragging the 17 yr old schoolgirl with her, like bait to lure in 'rockstars' is ...well
I didn't really follow he Kid Ego story, she's 32 and goes to see this young, teenage band, she goes 'backstage' into the room where the 2 bands are and takes off all her clothes, then they're back at the hotel. So, she took off her clothes, then got a 'put youy clothes back on love'. They go back to the hotel and she has what sounds like pretty unfilfilling sex'he thurst in a few times and came' but does a 'I had my fill with these rock boys'.. shagging a 16yr old boy? ..really??
She repeatedly has sex with people she isn't attracted to, or admits she only sex with them cos they were in the band, or could provide her access to someone on a band....she's not having sex with who she wants , when & how she wants...she is often doing the bidding of band members, cos they're band members, and is trading in sexual favours, exploiting her own sexuality to get access. I think I miss how that is empowering, having sex with people you dont want to, or trading sexual favours with people you're not interest in for access. At multiple points she herself questions, whether she'd even have sex with this person if they weren't 'in the band', she follows a hierarchy, she won't have sex with a roadie or crew, she will try for the headliner, as it's embarassing shagging the support band, but then she only has so much agency and if the vocalist or lead guitarist want her, she has to go with them, even though she doesn't fancy them and likes someone else in the band. A lot of this is transactional, Dizzy himself (and I think other guys at points) questions was she only with them/hooking up with them cos of their perceived status, and she often later admits to herself this is true, or questions this herself. At points she refers to going to an event to go for xxxx, that xxxx is the prize for the night, that xxxxx has the highest status at the show, so that is who she aims to get, it's like c-list rockstar bingo
she is all over the place on what she wants, she just wants fun and sex and no relationships, or that is what she tells Dizzy...cos really, sne doesnt want one of 2 keyboardists in G&R, she wants someone higher profile, and she's asking is Axl monogamous? She likes when she gets to fool around, but she doesn't like it when they do basically. Dizzy wanted to be exclusive, but she kept refusing, but then lost her shit he had another girl at a show, she then seems to act like they are together when she find out she is pregnant - she was told she had low fertility...not that she was infertile, she has lots of no protection sex then is Pikachu face about it when she is pregnant.
2 days before the abortion she is on stage with buckcherry having them grab her tits while she is massaging his crotch, she has the abortion and is told to avoid sexual activity for a couple of weeks due to the risk of infection, 2 days after the abortion she is on their tour bus shagging, 4 days after the abortion, she is back on the tour bus then in a hotel room shagging while bleeding heavily and trying to pass it off as her period...but also she was devestated by Dizzy and couldn't function etc, etc... at this point, maybe a mental health referral, cos this behaviour sounds damaging
the one with Avenged Sevenfold- she is a bit of a blagger and is always chancing her hand trying to get backstage to go pump someone, she ends up on one bands bus, then Avenged Sevenfold want her and her pal on their bus, so as she goes to get on, she asks about watersports and gets pissed on, the guy isn't able to get it up to shag her and she basically blagged her way backstage to kneel in a carpark and get pissed on.... a lot of this seems like it is done to be extreme, a facsimile or the debauchery in the late 80s, the late 70s, the 90s....but to be doing this in your 30s, in the mid to late 00s with these bands? Some of the bands she's not even into the music, it's to rack up another 'rockstar' notch on the bedpost - and that would be totally fine if she did things she wanted, with who she wanted....but she doesn't....she does things to shock, to impress, with people she doesnt want to, in revenge, cos xxx has higher standing in the band than xxx the one she is actually attracted.
She then goes to LA to stir the pot with Dizzy, running her mouth telling everyone who knows him or works with him about their relationship and her abortion....she's 33. They were only physically together a few days, and she was the one who kept telling him she didn't want a relationship (as it seemed like she had her eye on a different band member, a better prize).
it can seem she rewrites her own history and reshapes the narrative to fit - repeatedly she refers to going into pornstar mode, falling into a familar performance and show with a female friend for a male gaze, that she does things for attention, she will act up and pose for pornographic photos for attention...this doesn't sound empowering and like someone with agency acting on their own desires.
January 5, 2015
I don't know why in God's name I decided to read this crap. For a woman with a Masters in English, this book was poorly written- anon-stop stream of self-centered self-delusion covering deeply rooted psychoses. I was not surprised to read that she had herself institutionalized. After reading this I had serious doubts as to whether she should have left.
Shirazi is confusing and contradictory, one minute slathering on the self hatred and self doubt, the next minute talking about how she looks "hot as f**k". I'm sorry but her back stage photos do nothing to prove this point; she just looks like a hot mess.
I found this book about as interesting as a teenage girl's diary...not very. Between her constant self debasement and lurid tales of evenings that should have ended with a visit to a clinic for STD tests, she talks trash about the men she sought out and then wonders why no one wants to be with her.
I wish I could point out anything good about this book, but it was too screwed up.
Shirazi is confusing and contradictory, one minute slathering on the self hatred and self doubt, the next minute talking about how she looks "hot as f**k". I'm sorry but her back stage photos do nothing to prove this point; she just looks like a hot mess.
I found this book about as interesting as a teenage girl's diary...not very. Between her constant self debasement and lurid tales of evenings that should have ended with a visit to a clinic for STD tests, she talks trash about the men she sought out and then wonders why no one wants to be with her.
I wish I could point out anything good about this book, but it was too screwed up.
November 16, 2010
This book was a lot of fun to read, its the autobiography of a woman who grew up to become a rock groupie, she does not apoligize or make excuses for it, she just wants you know how much fun she had. You know, you're intrested on if she slept with any of your favorite rock stars, and not only does she name, names but she has the pictures published in the book. She does things I've never even heard of (I now know what "water sports" are). My only problem was being on the subway and always having old men sit by me and seeing the pictures in it and the time an old lady sat next to me and asked me what I was reading lol
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