Kirkus Reviews QR Code
THE SEDUCTION OF PETER S. by Lawrence Sanders

THE SEDUCTION OF PETER S.

by Lawrence Sanders

Pub Date: Aug. 13th, 1983
ISBN: 0425124622
Publisher: Putnam

The smirky, undramatic rise of a male prostitute—in a long, frankly plotless novel (171 teensy chapters) that offers Sanders' cheery vulgarity without any of his talent for mystery/suspense. Like the Dustin Hoffman character in Tootsie, narrator Peter Scuro is a failure of a N.Y. actor pushing 40, bitter and frustrated. . . when fi woman in a bar offers him $50 for sex. Peter agrees; the woman turns out to be Martha Twombly, a boutique manager and ex-whore just starting out as a madam for men; and soon Peter is pimping as well as whoring, recruiting his friends for the ever-expanding operation—which eventually includes a call-boy service, an escort service, and three bordellos (known to the public as "Peter's Academy of Dramatic Arts"). There are vignettes with a variety of clients: a voyeur from the West Coast; 84-year-old Becky, "a rowdy, driving lover" in great condition ("When we finally blasted off, I was sobbing, hooting, sneezing, wheezing like a geezer"); an unnamed Washington VIP; assorted threesomes and mild kinks. There are periodic problems to be dealt with: a cop on the take who keeps asking for more money; the angry father of a 15-year-old client (Peter blackmails him into dropping charges, thanks to photos of the teenager in sordid activities); an ex-employee who sets up a rival "stud" ring (Peter's corrupt cop arranges for the competitor to be raided); the constant demand for fresh talent. And, throughout, while sleeping with partner Martha as well as the clients, Peter supposedly pines for true love Jenny—who leaves him when she learns of his new career. Unfortunately, however, Sanders never develops any of the droplets of plot here: an uneasy connection with the Mob (when Peter and Martha need funds to set up a townhouse private-club) supplies only a smattering of tension; the murder of Martha—who is also the secret mistress of a gubernatorial hopeful—comes in the last few pages, far too late to generate suspense. And the character of Peter, which might have provided some much-needed appeal, is a washout, despite his repetitious musings on prostitution as a form of theater. Crass stuff, then, neither funny nor involving, and more like a pornfilm scenario (without the hard-core porn) than a novel—but sure to attract an audience with the Sanders byline, the intriguing opening pages, and the heavily sexual premise.