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scioscribeI will effectively buy any pulp novel I can find with its old-fashioned cover art intact, which is how I wound up with Sin on Wheels: The Uncensored Confessions of a Trailer Camp Tramp, by Loren Beauchamp. Here pictured being its glorious self:
The internet has now officially informed me that 1) you can buy this cover as a greeting card, which you should, and 2) the reason I was surprised by the level of craft here is because this was actually written by acclaimed SF author Robert Silverberg.
Sin on Wheels is porn, albeit quite tame by today's standards, and it has the almost picaresque structure of a lot of classic literary pornography: one girl/woman's erotic adventures through a series of different partners, all of whom offer different insights into the world. What makes Sin on Wheels oddly readable isn't so much that it's hot--though, to be fair, bits of it are--but that it's very smoothly written and a surprisingly in-depth look at the emotional tangles of sex and morality around one particular married couple. It's actually sadder than it is sleazy, which makes it less hilarious to review but strangely affecting to read.
The book is about Lenore, a nineteen-year-old girl who has just married Jack, a man she's only known for five weeks; he's taking her to her new home in a trailer park. (The socioeconomic position of the trailer camp here is interesting--Lenore's worried that it's going to be junky, but in fact she finds the trailer well-decorated and homey, and the camp itself is a blend of drifters, retirees, and married people with jobs that require a lot of travel. The fact that it attracts a lot of wanderers makes it something of a hub for things like casual sex and social rule-breaking, but it feels, appropriately enough, more science-fictional than anything else; Beauchamp/Silverberg has thought out who this situation might appeal to and why, and he's remembered that there's considerable diversity within that, and he avoids tying it too much to class.) At first Lenore likes it, aside from being a little concerned about their "slutty" neighbor who seems too friendly with Jack, and once she starts having sex with Jack, she likes that too. Their wedding night scene is particularly well-done emotionally.
Then, of course, everything starts falling apart, as Lenore discovers that Jack can't even last the entire first week of their marriage without sleeping with other women. Fueled by heartbreak and spite, she initiates a few affairs of her own, as Jack draws her into a subculture of spouse-swapping and matter-of-fact strip poker. Lenore can never quite decide if she's doing these things because she loves Jack, because she wants to maintain some kind of balance by tit-for-tat infidelity, or because she actually likes it. She's all jumbled up inside, running hot and then cold, and the novel conveys her muddled state well. It also nicely blends sexiness and mundanity--bodies are imperfect and sex is sometimes disappointing. Gradually, the novel pushes Lenore to the point of having to make the decision about what kind of life she wants, how she sees herself morally, and whether or not her marriage is salvageable.
So it is, effectively, half as-marked pulp--wife-swapping! Lesbian sex (gasp)! More descriptions of breasts than you know what to do with!--and half basically realistic look at a new marriage in trouble. What makes it kind of nice to read today is that it's actually a pretty empathetic novel. Lenore isn't demonized as either a slut or a prude--she broadens her sexual horizons some, but it's always portrayed as perfectly reasonable for her to want her husband to be faithful to her, and she's not pushed by the narrative to just settle in with a "boys will be boys" attitude towards his "satyr" tendencies. Both she and the novel have more compassion for the single woman Jack sleeps with--who is straightforward and honest in her way--than they do for Jack. And there's a strain of social prgoressiveness here, too. Lenore at one point has sex with Bonnie, a woman in the trailer camp, and while Bonnie's portrayal as a lesbian involves a lot of her earnestly talking about how terrible men are, she's also obviously a nice person whom Lenore hopes to stay friends with even after deciding their affair will be a one-time thing. Bonnie lives, and isn't pushed to get over her sexual orientation in any way; Lenore starts off by thinking of her as having a perversion, and ends by thinking that it can't be wrong for Bonnie to get love and companionship in the only way that works for her. In a move I was equally happy to see, both novel and characters draw a thick line between willing sex--however emotionally complicated--and rape. Lenore sleeps with several characters, but there's one man she's not even remotely attracted to, and when he assaults her, it's definitively portrayed as clearly wrong. He thinks it's his right, since Lenore's been having sex with other men, but the book doesn't; Lenore doesn't like that the milieu she's fallen into seems to contain such things as a routine danger, but she remains clear on there being a huge difference between that rape and her actual freely-chosen sex. And it's a difference her husband supports her on, unequivocally believing her and beating the living shit out of the rapist.
Of course, it's not like Sin on Wheels is a secret gem of feminism. Lenore has enthusiastic sex within about an hour of having been raped, at least one woman is clearly the "bad" one (you can ell by how often her breasts are described), and this is still a world where marriage seems to go hand-in-hand with some pretty grim accommodations. But as a blend of x number of sex acts per y number of pages porn and a novel of unhappiness, it's actually kind of satisfying.
The internet has now officially informed me that 1) you can buy this cover as a greeting card, which you should, and 2) the reason I was surprised by the level of craft here is because this was actually written by acclaimed SF author Robert Silverberg.
Sin on Wheels is porn, albeit quite tame by today's standards, and it has the almost picaresque structure of a lot of classic literary pornography: one girl/woman's erotic adventures through a series of different partners, all of whom offer different insights into the world. What makes Sin on Wheels oddly readable isn't so much that it's hot--though, to be fair, bits of it are--but that it's very smoothly written and a surprisingly in-depth look at the emotional tangles of sex and morality around one particular married couple. It's actually sadder than it is sleazy, which makes it less hilarious to review but strangely affecting to read.
The book is about Lenore, a nineteen-year-old girl who has just married Jack, a man she's only known for five weeks; he's taking her to her new home in a trailer park. (The socioeconomic position of the trailer camp here is interesting--Lenore's worried that it's going to be junky, but in fact she finds the trailer well-decorated and homey, and the camp itself is a blend of drifters, retirees, and married people with jobs that require a lot of travel. The fact that it attracts a lot of wanderers makes it something of a hub for things like casual sex and social rule-breaking, but it feels, appropriately enough, more science-fictional than anything else; Beauchamp/Silverberg has thought out who this situation might appeal to and why, and he's remembered that there's considerable diversity within that, and he avoids tying it too much to class.) At first Lenore likes it, aside from being a little concerned about their "slutty" neighbor who seems too friendly with Jack, and once she starts having sex with Jack, she likes that too. Their wedding night scene is particularly well-done emotionally.
Then, of course, everything starts falling apart, as Lenore discovers that Jack can't even last the entire first week of their marriage without sleeping with other women. Fueled by heartbreak and spite, she initiates a few affairs of her own, as Jack draws her into a subculture of spouse-swapping and matter-of-fact strip poker. Lenore can never quite decide if she's doing these things because she loves Jack, because she wants to maintain some kind of balance by tit-for-tat infidelity, or because she actually likes it. She's all jumbled up inside, running hot and then cold, and the novel conveys her muddled state well. It also nicely blends sexiness and mundanity--bodies are imperfect and sex is sometimes disappointing. Gradually, the novel pushes Lenore to the point of having to make the decision about what kind of life she wants, how she sees herself morally, and whether or not her marriage is salvageable.
So it is, effectively, half as-marked pulp--wife-swapping! Lesbian sex (gasp)! More descriptions of breasts than you know what to do with!--and half basically realistic look at a new marriage in trouble. What makes it kind of nice to read today is that it's actually a pretty empathetic novel. Lenore isn't demonized as either a slut or a prude--she broadens her sexual horizons some, but it's always portrayed as perfectly reasonable for her to want her husband to be faithful to her, and she's not pushed by the narrative to just settle in with a "boys will be boys" attitude towards his "satyr" tendencies. Both she and the novel have more compassion for the single woman Jack sleeps with--who is straightforward and honest in her way--than they do for Jack. And there's a strain of social prgoressiveness here, too. Lenore at one point has sex with Bonnie, a woman in the trailer camp, and while Bonnie's portrayal as a lesbian involves a lot of her earnestly talking about how terrible men are, she's also obviously a nice person whom Lenore hopes to stay friends with even after deciding their affair will be a one-time thing. Bonnie lives, and isn't pushed to get over her sexual orientation in any way; Lenore starts off by thinking of her as having a perversion, and ends by thinking that it can't be wrong for Bonnie to get love and companionship in the only way that works for her. In a move I was equally happy to see, both novel and characters draw a thick line between willing sex--however emotionally complicated--and rape. Lenore sleeps with several characters, but there's one man she's not even remotely attracted to, and when he assaults her, it's definitively portrayed as clearly wrong. He thinks it's his right, since Lenore's been having sex with other men, but the book doesn't; Lenore doesn't like that the milieu she's fallen into seems to contain such things as a routine danger, but she remains clear on there being a huge difference between that rape and her actual freely-chosen sex. And it's a difference her husband supports her on, unequivocally believing her and beating the living shit out of the rapist.
Of course, it's not like Sin on Wheels is a secret gem of feminism. Lenore has enthusiastic sex within about an hour of having been raped, at least one woman is clearly the "bad" one (you can ell by how often her breasts are described), and this is still a world where marriage seems to go hand-in-hand with some pretty grim accommodations. But as a blend of x number of sex acts per y number of pages porn and a novel of unhappiness, it's actually kind of satisfying.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-10-01 08:42 pm (UTC)I also love finding these virtually unknown books--it's like saving some little piece of history that would otherwise be lost.
(no subject)
Date: 2019-10-01 08:44 pm (UTC)Yuletide.
I also love finding these virtually unknown books--it's like saving some little piece of history that would otherwise be lost.
Yes, exactly. It's also why I love reviewing them