This account of sex and substance abuse pulls no punches as it shocks and enlightens.
This debut memoir follows a gay man’s sexual exploration in front of and behind the movie camera as well as his battle with drug addiction.
Ferris, who was born in 1987, had his first sexual encounter with a high school classmate. This boy became his first crush, too, though the author’s already low self-esteem took a hit when his friend betrayed him. Ferris opted for sex with strangers by the time he was at a San Francisco college and soon moved to porn films, performing under the name Blue Bailey. At the same time, he dove deeply into substance abuse, with meth his drug of choice. Before the author was even 20 years old, a doctor diagnosed him as being HIV-positive. He was the one to console his family over this news; it was not the “death sentence” it once was, and those who were “POZ” like Ferris could still have active sex lives. He continued his adult-film career and gained some fame from one particular 2014 movie: Viral Loads. That was mostly due to its marketing campaign, which failed to clarify that star Blue Bailey, who engaged in sexual acts with HIV-positive performers, was POZ himself. Ferris later enrolled in law school and became an attorney. Even with his porn days behind him, his sex life was energetic and occasionally experimental. Sadly, his meth addiction was a never-ending fight; he’d manage to kick it but then fell back into the drug’s merciless trap. He aspired to be an activist lawyer, and that meant staying sober even when temptations surrounded him.
Ferris’ concise account is an unflinching look at his turbulent life that, as he warns readers, teems with graphically detailed sex scenes. He champions sex—and all the fetishes it entails—between consenting partners as well as normalizing gay sexuality. But the author highlights the downsides as well; using “liquid Viagra” on a movie set incited multiple trips to the emergency room, and one unnerving sexual escapade ended with his arrest for murder. None of this is exploitative, as the book’s 77 “scenes” feel like snapshots of the author’s life. Moreover, Ferris’ conversational narration frames all that he experienced in a stylish but uncompromising fashion: “I slip the needle in, thread my vein, and pull the plunger back. A plume of red. I am registered. I am an octopus inking through the water. Red is my safe word. Red means stop. Now, red means go. I am ready. Go.” The author’s support for the gay community and his “POZ brothers” is uplifting, and he brings to light some critical medical issues involving HIV-positive individuals. Much of the book nevertheless wallows in gloominess. His self-confidence, for example, continually wavered, and his meth addiction caused perpetual misery, sometimes leading to suicidal thoughts. Ferris also brushes past certain people in his life, from his barely mentioned partner, Sean, to his loving and sympathetic extended family. On the other hand, he includes a handful of personal photographs along with a copy of his witness statement after his arrest.
This account of sex and substance abuse pulls no punches as it shocks and enlightens.Pub Date: Oct. 11, 2022
ISBN: 978-0-9913780-7-4
Page Count: 187
Publisher: Unbound Edition Press
Review Posted Online: Oct. 3, 2022
Review Program: Kirkus Indie
The lessons to draw are obvious: Smoke more dope, eat less meat. Like-minded readers will dig it.
The chef, rapper, and TV host serves up a blustery memoir with lashings of self-help.
“I’ve always had a sick confidence,” writes Bronson, ne Ariyan Arslani. The confidence, he adds, comes from numerous sources: being a New Yorker, and more specifically a New Yorker from Queens; being “short and fucking husky” and still game for a standoff on the basketball court; having strength, stamina, and seemingly no fear. All these things serve him well in the rough-and-tumble youth he describes, all stickball and steroids. Yet another confidence-builder: In the big city, you’ve got to sink or swim. “No one is just accepted—you have to fucking show that you’re able to roll,” he writes. In a narrative steeped in language that would make Lenny Bruce blush, Bronson recounts his sentimental education, schooled by immigrant Italian and Albanian family members and the mean streets, building habits good and bad. The virtue of those habits will depend on your take on modern mores. Bronson writes, for example, of “getting my dick pierced” down in the West Village, then grabbing a pizza and smoking weed. “I always smoke weed freely, always have and always will,” he writes. “I’ll just light a blunt anywhere.” Though he’s gone through the classic experiences of the latter-day stoner, flunking out and getting arrested numerous times, Bronson is a hard charger who’s not afraid to face nearly any challenge—especially, given his physique and genes, the necessity of losing weight: “If you’re husky, you’re always dieting in your mind,” he writes. Though vulgar and boastful, Bronson serves up a model that has plenty of good points, including his growing interest in nature, creativity, and the desire to “leave a legacy for everybody.”
The lessons to draw are obvious: Smoke more dope, eat less meat. Like-minded readers will dig it.Pub Date: April 20, 2021
ISBN: 978-1-4197-4478-5
Page Count: 184
Publisher: Abrams
Review Posted Online: May 5, 2021
Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 1, 2021
Skloot's meticulous, riveting account strikes a humanistic balance between sociological history, venerable portraiture and...
A dense, absorbing investigation into the medical community's exploitation of a dying woman and her family's struggle to salvage truth and dignity decades later.
In a well-paced, vibrant narrative, Popular Science contributor and Culture Dish blogger Skloot (Creative Writing/Univ. of Memphis) demonstrates that for every human cell put under a microscope, a complex life story is inexorably attached, to which doctors, researchers and laboratories have often been woefully insensitive and unaccountable. In 1951, Henrietta Lacks, an African-American mother of five, was diagnosed with what proved to be a fatal form of cervical cancer. At Johns Hopkins, the doctors harvested cells from her cervix without her permission and distributed them to labs around the globe, where they were multiplied and used for a diverse array of treatments. Known as HeLa cells, they became one of the world's most ubiquitous sources for medical research of everything from hormones, steroids and vitamins to gene mapping, in vitro fertilization, even the polio vaccine—all without the knowledge, must less consent, of the Lacks family. Skloot spent a decade interviewing every relative of Lacks she could find, excavating difficult memories and long-simmering outrage that had lay dormant since their loved one's sorrowful demise. Equal parts intimate biography and brutal clinical reportage, Skloot's graceful narrative adeptly navigates the wrenching Lack family recollections and the sobering, overarching realities of poverty and pre–civil-rights racism. The author's style is matched by a methodical scientific rigor and manifest expertise in the field.
Skloot's meticulous, riveting account strikes a humanistic balance between sociological history, venerable portraiture and Petri dish politics.Pub Date: Feb. 9, 2010
ISBN: 978-1-4000-5217-2
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Crown
Review Posted Online: Dec. 22, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2010
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