The best part of this English Civil War tale by Maria McCann is when Jacob, a murderer/rapist, gets his tooth yanked at the home of his idealist lover, a printing press operator who pees on his typeset letters, because he takes the tooth-pull with no anesthetic like a champ.
Marion Zimmer Bradley penned this beauty about trapeze artists living in what feels like the Great Depression, which is actually 1950-something (I think), and a guy called Mario, who, when he gets it on with his trapeze-mate, made me think of Mario Lopez kissing a stout redhead.
Michael Faber wrote this thick ol’ novel that starts off strong with juicy details, such as how-to abortions and the mucky skirts of a 19th century whore, but the myth of the crafty prostitute is like the myth of the bad-boy-motorcycle dude who cries at dead-dog parts in movies.
Written in 1975, this novel by Agustin Gomez-Arcos is chock full of metaphors about a dysfunctional family and Nationalist Spain and horny scenes about giving priests erections, and the incest is a nice touch.
Although I don’t remember too much about this book by Jerry Stahl—there might have been a titillating scene with a washing machine—I’ve lugged it with me to four residences, so it’s probably really good (I’ve tossed more for less: I could not fit Dante’s Inferno in box 18 of 42).