This superlatively bad book is an object lesson in how to succeed at getting ardcover publisher without any talent. What you do is take an anthropological eam to a forgotten atoll in Polynesia where the population (some 200) employ all of he believe-it-or-not sexual practices that were ever reported out of the South Seas. en mother for the team must be Professor Maud Hayden whose bulk can be wheeled out for minute lectures on the study of social behavior, larded with loving references to the bibliography of Anthropology 101. She must take along one daughter-in-law/ amanuensis who is yearning to be an Earth Goddess and oneassistant/son who would ather play with boys. They must be joined by a frigid lady psychiatrist who is physically ill at the sight of the male sex organ, a nymphomaniac nurse, an expert on sex who is a voyeur and a photographer who brings along his inhibitions and his highschool-aged, reluctantly virginal daughter. When they get to the island, they will encounter no language barrier because it was founded by an 18th Century Englishman and besides, a beachcomber American is there who has soberly founded peace by going sex the native way. (If you can't figure out what happens to every single one of them, you'll lose your membership in; the paperback club.) What is impossible to describe is the solemn tone that pervades the endless tasteless pages of Peeping ommery. Evidently that is supposed to remove this to the level of adult preoccupation. The market? The prurient.