Where’s the juice?

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Is it our imagination or have books about sex gotten weightier, more academic and generally off-putting? Has there always been an inverse proportion between sexual marginalia and sensuality? Four new and upcoming titles form a pretty dour bunch, more like a group of disapproving matrons than lusty inquiries.

‘Overexposed: Perverting Perversions’ by Sylvère Lotringer (MIT Press) sports an inscrutable photo on the cover of a table and two chairs. A promisingly mysterious epigraph from ‘Lolita’ reads: ‘I discovered there was an endless source of robust enjoyment in trifling with psychiatrists. . . . ‘ Hmmm. Chapter titles such as ‘Arouse’ and ‘Tease’ start out in the right spirit but fizzle into ‘Bore,’ ‘Reject’ and ‘Deter.’ There are no pictures -- just dense, relentless type.

‘In Praise of the Whip: A Cultural History of Arousal’ by Niklaus Largier (Zone Books) would make even the most committed French intellectual turn in his grave. The sexiest part of this 500-plus page book is the dedication: ‘For Karen.’ There are pictures, many of them medieval images involving little cherubs.

‘The Inner Touch: Archaeology of a Sensation’ by Daniel Heller-Roazen (Zone Books -- what’s going on there? we ask ourselves) floats all too frequently into Latin but sports helpful chapter subheads such as: ‘Containing Aristotle’s Doctrine of the Common Sense, the Master Faculty by Which Animals Sense That They Are Sensing.’ (Again, no pictures, but lovely snowy, soft, large margins on the pages.)

‘Porn-ol-o-gy’ by Ayn Carrillo-Gailey (Running Press) veers to the opposite, belly-button, giggly side of the asexual spectrum. The subtitle says it all (literally): ‘One Good Girl’s Hilarious Misadventures as She Attempts to Understand: Strip Clubs, Adult Videos, Sex Toys, Internet Porn, Men’s Magazines and Finally Learns to Relax, Since After All It’s Just Sex.’ Oh dear, not exactly ‘Debbie Does Dallas.’ Four books in a single month do not necessarily a literary trend maketh, but readers might have cause to watch and worry.

— Susan Salter Reynolds 4/22/2007