9 of 9 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
An interesting concept, but not always well presented, May 18, 2004
By A Customer
This review is from: Governing Pleasures: Pornography and Social Change in England, 1815-1914 (Paperback)
This book will certainly be of interest to historians of sexuality and historians of the publishing industry (or lay readers interested in those fields).
The author makes an interesting argument regarding the intersection of ideas on pornography and ideas on class, race, monarchism, etc. She traces the development of pornography as a field in itself and how this development parallels or reflects changing attitudes on class, race, and gender from the late 1700s to the early 20th century in Britain. In the early 1800s, pornographic writers were on the side of the philosophes, Grub Street (in Britain), and Robert Darnton's smut peddlers (in France). They ridiculed the Church, the monarchy, and other anti-progressive institutions, often from the point of view of the aristocracy. By mid- to late-century, pornographers were reflecting upper-class views on race (as the Empire grew) and class (as the Second Industrial Revolution widen the chasm between classes). For most of the period under examination, pornography was expensive to buy as it was sold in bookstores or via mail-order from abroad. Only by the end of the 19th century was pornography made accessible to the lower class (and "minority" groups) through cheap postcards. In fact, the chapter on the social and political significance of postcards is the best and worth reading.
Several things detract from her argument, however.
First of all, her chief argument seems eminently reasonable and quite simple, if one thinks about it. However, the author repeats it over and over with myriad examples. Ultimately, she becomes rather repetitive -- and the book is only 160 pages long, plus endnotes, bibliography, and index, which really stretch it out. Additionally, I was left wondering just how widespread or typical her examples were. Many of the pornographic publications she examines had very, very small print runs (e.g., 250 privately printed copies). Were they that influential? And if they were so hugely influential in shaping the porno industry in the 19th century, are we talking about a tempest in a teacup?
Another problem with this book is the reliance or over-reliance on Marxist theory. Yes, Marx has a theory about commodity fetishism, which the author then applies to -- surprise! -- fetishes (of the sexual variety). The application of Marxist theory, while trendy among many academics, seems obfuscatory. This is a story that can be told more clearly and more convincingly without invoking obscurantist theories. Moreover, Marx has been proven wrong by economists and history itself. He seems like a poor choice of theorist to rely on. But then again, perhaps the world's last true Marxists are professors.
For those readers seeking titillation, be forewarned: yes, the book contains a large number of vintage erotic photographs and engravings, but they were so poorly reproduced that things aren't always so clear. Even hand-colored prints of yore are reproduced exclusively in black and white. This is even more disappointing from a production point of view when one considers that the author makes frequent reference to the colorization of the prints!
Still, for those interested in the history of sexuality or the history of publishing, this is worth a read.
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