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Slut Wife: Robert’s Nympho Wife (2010): Typing with One Hand Leads to Bad Grammar

photo credit: Oregon State University

Leonna Black, Slut Wife: Robert’s Nympho Wife (No publisher listed, 2010)

points off: incomplete information, as above.

A generic blonde woman, from behind, in a bra and panties adorns the ebook's cover.

About as generic as cheap Kindle porn covers get.
photo credit: Amazon

If you ever wanted a great demonstration of why you shouldn’t trust your editing and proofreading to a machine, here is Slut Wife: Robert’s Nympho Wife as an hilarious object lesson. Note that the book description lists the name of the long-suffering husband as Ron. Someone used an automated find-and-replace on their word processing program to change said hubby’s name, at the last minute, to “Robert” without putting any spaces around “Ron” and did it case-insensitive, The end result, somewhat hilariously, is a book where, for example, the word “front” is invariably presented to us as “fRobertt”. Oops. Didn’t bother to read it over one last time before sending it in, huh?

Which is kind of too bad, because at least the author has a halfway decent grasp on the way a story should progress, makes a few nods toward such niceties as character development (without really getting there), foreshadowing (clumsy, but there and correctly used), and even a touch of humor or two. But the shoddy proofreading kills it. * ½

The Pleasure Chateau (1995): Well, the Chateau Part Is Right

Jeremy Reed, The Pleasure Chateau (Velvet, 1995)

[originally posted 2Nov2001]

A woman looks wistfully off into the distance on the book's cover.

That is not, one thinks, the expression of a pleasured woman.
photo credit: openlibrary.org

One would expect a book with a title such as The Pleasure Chateau and comparisons to Guillaume Apollinaire in their descriptions to deliver the goods. Hard to imagine what goods those would be, but goods nonetheless. A better comparison for the first volume of Reed’s trilogy that has come to be known as Sade’s Sister would be Huysmans (or Sade himself); much internal monologue is conducted, people go on endlessly to themselves and others about sex, spiritualism, and the like, but no one ever really does anything.

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House of Pain (1997): Neverlast

photo credit: Oregon State University

Pan Pantziarka, House of Pain (Velvet/Creation, 1997)

[originally posted 17Sep2001]

A woman, wrists tied above her head, languishes on the cover of the book.

Wheels, wheels…
photo credit: ebay

The publisher’s blurb on the back calls House of Pain “scorched earth erotica,” and a more accurate definition would be somewhat hard to come by. The book gives us a nameless narrator (by design, of course, cf. Fight Club) who is kidnapped—perhaps—and subjected to various humiliations, etc., which she may or may not enjoy, depending on her mood. As is usual with such things, the degradation builds until it hits a high (low?) at the climax of the book, where the narrator faces the usual question: how badly do I want to keep my identity?
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Whet Appetites of Virtual Strangers (2013): Wet Panties of Not a Single Reader

Elaine Shuel, Whet Appetites of Virtual Strangers (No publisher listed, 2013)

Had I been planning on giving this any points, it would have lost them for not supplying complete information.

 

A statuesque blonde gives the reader a come-hither look on the ebook's cover.

Generic porn cover is generic.
photo credit: Goodreads

I should mention that I noticed, when I dropped by the Amazon page to see if anyone had bothered to add in the rest of the necessary information about the book (specifically, its publisher), that while Amazon helpfully informs me that I purchased Whet Appetites of Virtual Strangers on November 27, 2012, the publication date currently listed is Nov. 2, 2013. I haven’t received anything from Amazon as I usually do saying this title is available for update, but something may have gotten lost in the cracks, I may be reviewing a totally different edition, and for all I know the newer release is the best thing since sliced bread. However, I’m not willing to drop even a penny finding out, because what I read was just ridiculous. I skimmed the reviews currently at Amazon, and I’m not going to argue with Miranda’s assertion that “Elaine Shuel has the courage to write what women fantasize about.” Perfectly valid assessment. However, she doesn’t write about it well. Much of the problem stems from the brevity here; this piece runs just eight pages, and with most of that being sex, there’s not a great deal of room for character development. (Rule of thumb, authors: reading about sex is better when you’ve constructed a character that the reader can really empathize with.) A number of authors these days have the courage to write what women fantasize about; a couple of alternatives who, in my estimation do it a great deal better are Megan Hart, Selena Kitt, and Jaid Black. Give them a shot instead. (zero)

 

Naughty Jannelle (2012): Rapornzel, Rapornzel, Let Down Your… Hair?

Manhattan Minx, Naughty Jannelle (No publisher listed, 2012)

Points off: the entity who listed the book at Amazon did not supply complete information.

 

An attractive female behind with only string underwear adorns the cover of the ebook.

She looks a bit slim to be a sumo wrestler.
photo credit: Smashwords

Kindle-porn quickie from the Daughter’s Roommate series, so you can pretty much guess every kink there is to be had in this one (not quite all of them, as the author tosses in a little DS for good measure in the final sequence). It’s not bad, but there’s nothing about it that really sends it flying above the pack, either; given its brevity (429 “locations”, I still haven’t quite worked out how many locations there are to a printed page in a normal file), if you can pick it up free and you’re interested in the subject matter, have at it, otherwise you’re not missing much. * ½

 

Alex and the Tentacle Monster (????): Alice in Urotsukidojiland

photo credit: Oregon State University

K. Matthew, Alex and the Tentacle Monster (No publisher listed, no date listed)

had I planned on giving this book any stars, it would have lost them for incomplete information.

photo credit: iTunes

Slimes, slimes, everywhere the slimes…
(this is the third time I have referenced Tesla’s worst song in the past week. I think my brain is melting.)

You know what? I’m down with the tentacles. (I favorably reviewed the first Urotsukidoji film about a decade ago; too bad the second was so awful.) I’m down with Alice in Wonderland, too, especially weirded-out versions like Svankmajer’s. If you combine the two, you’ve got the potential for greatness—all of which is wasted in this far-too-short-for-any-of-the-niceties-like-character-development story, which exists solely to have tentacles penetrate orifices. Okay, now I will admit, maybe it’s just me, but am I wrong to demand a little romance, a little feeling, from my alien tentacle monsters? You’re not using all of those tentacles for penetrative purposes, bub, how about holding a flower bouquet with one? Or cooking lamb chops with mint sauce, huh? But no, you think you can just waltz right down to Earth and abduct people right out of their cars and use them in all sorts of “experiments” and expect that no one will ever tell their fellow Earthlings because, after all, who would believe that sort of thing…?

…okay, I’ll put my tinfoil hat back on now. (zero)

Taking the Team (2012): Bend It Like Lovelace

photo credit: Oregon State University

Layla Cole, Taking the Team (Layla Cole, 2012)

photo credit: ebookstore.sony.com

I still don’t know what the tie has to do with it. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.

Gorgeous-but-shy college girl (do these people really exist?) gets an assignment to interview the school’s soccer team that goes from talking to much, much more. Certainly not the worst cheapo Kindle porn on the block, but nothing new or out of the ordinary, and, well, kind of mechanical. Plus there’s that ridiculous convention of multiple-partner stories that involves the anatomical near-impossibility of all the males managing to be crowded around one woman and still not touch in any sort of erotic way. That one’s automatic points off in my book; your mileage may vary. **