Sex! Sex! Sex! Right here, live, nude, and on your computer! Screen!
All of the above may have been a lie. [It was. –.ed] Unless it is actually true, which would be very strange but, you know, good for you. Good on you!
I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist. How can you, really, with a title like that? Okay, admittedly, the subtitle is My Life as an Object, and I must admit that what I’ve done is admit a certain objectification into these words already. I’ve failed. I’ve failed.
I’ve more to say, but I’ll say it below the belt… ahem, picture.
Shortcut #8: Kathleen Rooney’s Live Nude Girl: My Life as an Object
I know the author (I’ll also admit) and so my writing herein is likely to be biased, but I’ll let you decide which way the bias leans (and whether it’ll fall over in a harsh wind. And, no, please don’t purse your lips like that. Someone might stuff change there.
Also, before I get to chatting it up, I must confess that I need to be quicker on the draw regarding writing about things for here. I finished reading Rooney’s book on March the thirtieth and only now… well, no use crying over milk of any sort.
I’ve read a large portion of Kathleen’s published work including her non-fiction book on Oprah’s Book Club (well-written and interesting despite seeming like a niche topic) and her book of poems Oneiromance. I’ll say, pretty confidently, that I like her writing and the voice it’s generally infused with (Like tea! Or vodka!). One piece published in Gulf Coast was about plagiarism and the problem of facing plagiarism as a teacher, including the sense of betrayal one feels. This is a pretty common and cliched topic amongst teachers/professors/academia but her writing made her story immediate and interesting.
Rooney, in this book, (I’m always thinking of Andy when I use just her last name) if you haven’t guessed already, is documenting her experiences as an artist’s model. It’s not just experience, though (assuming my memory works correctly), the book does roughly follow her path from her beginnings as an artist’s model to, you know, the present-ish time: Rooney’s narrative is a perambulation of the mind, a philosophical treatise on the art of presenting the body in art and what it means to the individual to have the body — their body — seen only as a, and only for the, surface.
And of the surface is unfortunately all that the (or at least this) shortcut is. Really, if you like non-fiction, read this book. Of course, also if you’re interested in views of the body, female sexuality, artists and their models, but that’s all subject, subject, subject. What I mean is, if you like non-fiction and you like reading good writing, then read this book. It’s good eating. Reading. Writing.
Oh, forget it.
[Post Title Change to Prevent Porn Search Hits. -ed.]