William D. Prystauk

(Reprinted from the Chicago Center for Literature and Photography [cclapcenter.com]. I am the original author of this essay, as well as the owner of CCLaP; it is not being reprinted illegally.)

To be fair, William D. Prystauk's Bloodletting is getting a few extra points today simply for trying to bring something fresh and unique to the staid world of supermarket crime thrillers; its particular private-eye hero is a Millennial but with an obsessive love for the '80s punk scene, and the crime he's investigating takes place within New York City's BDSM community, a community our PI is already a veteran of which is how it is that he's on the case despite his youth and lack of experience. But the book is getting a mediocre score anyway, because despite the intriguing premise it's ultimately just a mediocre genre novel; featuring hackneyed dialogue, stale stereotype characters, and a plot that feels like an episode of Law & Order, I found little in this throwaway novel to actually enjoy or recommend. (Also, if like me you find most twentysomething BDSM goth club kids to be intolerably pretentious and annoying, you might find yourself actually rooting for the killer to get away with his crimes, a big problem when the book's hero is the guy hired to catch him.) A book that only a crime-novel-a-day genre fan could love, it comes specifically recommended to only those people; the rest of you can safely skip it.

Out of 10: 7.4… (meer)

I STRONGLY recommend AGAINST reading this book.

It's not the kink, it's not the sex, it's not the murder: it's the constant flow of hateful language from the main character. Since it's written in the first person, I can't tell if it's just the character that's transphobic/transmisogynistic, biphobic, homophobic, fatphobic, slut-shaming, ageist, and afraid of women's sexuality, or if it's the author himself. At this point, I won't be reading any other books by this author to find out.

He uses slurs repeatedly to describe and refer to one of his significant others, and confirms to the reader that he's not going to do something as simple as asking for their preferred pronouns because he doesn't want to mess with all that PC nonsense. Dismissing basic human decency as not worth your time makes this book not worth anyone's time. He uses slurs and derogatory language about pretty much everyone in the book. It's vile. The main character is supposedly bi, and yet EVERY SINGLE same-sex sex scene fades to black before it gets into any detail, unilke the scenes with women which go into graphic detail. No homo! (Ugh.)

I've been actively involved in the kink scene for my entire adult life, and it's clear that the author is also familiar with that world. I know a bunch of kinky people who decided to write authentic kink erotica as a response to Fifty Shades, and so I had reasonably high hopes for this book. The main character's behaviour and treatment of kinky situations are alarming - there are consent issues, boundary issues, and some really messed up relationship issues.

Sure, I get it, people are messed up. No one book should bear the burden of being the singular representation of an entire subculture. The main character specifically mocks others for not being hardcore enough, for doing kink wrong, for being boring or ordinary, and gets all butthurt when he's (rightfully) excluded from a group for being a dick. There is no one true way of doing kink or being kinky; but if people want to read a messed up tale of a messed up person, there are better books out there. The story itself isn't even that great. It's rather predictable, and it's just not very interesting.

If you're looking for (actually good) BDSM fiction, try Xan West, Manna Francis, or Jacqueline Carey.… (meer)