by JULIET WATERS

In his essay “Books in Bed,” Jonathan Franzen writes, “Reading a book of expert sexual instruction must rank near the bottom on the scale of erotic pastimes - somewhere below peeling an orange, not far above flossing. One problem is that, although the intention is precisely the opposite, these books collectively and individually make the world of sex seem very small.”

I used to agree with him. There’s something creepy about pop-culture sex manuals, their faux cheery tone, the illustrations that must have to meet some totally unsexy standard, and the inevitable agenda of each “expert.”

For example, The New Joy of Sex, though recently revised, still reflects Dr. Alex Comfort’s Epicurean, phallocentric take on sex. We are told that “vibrators are no substitute for a penis… Careful vibratory massage of the whole body surface is a better bet than over-concentration on the penis or clitoris.” Notwithstanding the fact that he doesn’t possess the biological equipment to test this theory, this mini-lecture is about as useful as “yoghurt will never be a substitute for bread.” Doesn’t this depend on taste, mood, or level of hunger?

But after reading the recently revised The Good Vibrations Guide to Sex by Cathy Winks and Anne Semans, I’ve decided that Franzen and I have just been sleeping with the wrong books.

The key to writing an excellent sex guide is the understanding that sexual pleasure is a matter of taste, temperament, upbringing, orientation, values, experience, age, gender, education, neuroses, tools, toys and the limitless combination of these things. Trying to dictate pleasure to a pluralistic society is a losing battle.

It must have helped in creating this non-judgemental, exceptionally comprehensive book that the authors started out as owners of one of the better sex boutiques in North America. By dealing with customers who ranged from softcore to hardcore, straight to gay, virginal to sex worker, Winks and Semans have figured out exactly the range of information needed to sell their ideology: that sexual pleasure should be considered an end in itself, and that any kind of sex practiced with a reasonable attention to safety is just good clean fun.

General chapter headings include: Sexual Anatomy, Self Image, Communication, Sex Over a Lifetime, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Vibrators, Dildos, Anal Toys. But even if I were to devote the entire space of this review to listing what’s covered I could never do justice to the scope of this book.

If you want to know about recent technology in dildo materials, lubes and micro chip vibrators, if you want some good tips on getting the most out of phone sex, or a guide to the golden age of pornography, or safety tips for bondage, this is a great book. If you’re a teenager trying to figure out how to give a decent hand job, or ask for oral sex, a baby dyke or biker butch, recently single, or a lifetime celibate, this is a great book. If you want to figure out why your “healthy” sex life is becoming unbearably dull, this is a great book. If someone recently name dropped Candida Royalle and you want to know more, she’s profiled here along with about a dozen other sexual pioneers.

Even the illustration problem is solved. They aren’t particularly sexy, but at least they’re unsexy in a geeky, witty way. For instance, all the white people sleeping with black partners are wearing glasses. And who better to illustrate the joys of non-penetrative sex than an elderly couple, the male bald and wearing socks.

About the only thing missing is some information specific to Canada. Inspired to do some research, I learned from my neighborhood sex boutique that the Hitachi Magic Wand, generally considered the Harley Davidson of vibrators, has never been approved for sale in Canada. Oh well, at least this book has. :

The Good Vibrations Guide to Sex by Cathy Winks and Anne Semans, Cleis Press, pb, 344pp, $40.95