Category Archives: literature

Book Review: Pimp: The Story of My Life By Iceberg Slim

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A couple of weeks ago I was browsing the Kindle store when I came across Iceberg Slim’s biography, Pimp: The Story of My Life (see http://www.amazon.co.uk/Pimp-The-Story-Life-ebook/dp/B005GK7LPG) which tells the story of how the author became one of America’s most notorious pimps. Slim ppulls no punches. The book is a no holes barred account of how Iceberg entered pimping, the people he met and of how he controlled his girls. I flinched as I read how Slim punished his first working girl, Joyce by whipping her with a wire coat hanger. The whipping had (from Slim’s perspective) the desired result as Joyce returned to the streets to sell her body.

Slim was brought up during the era of racial segregation which had a profound effect on his view of the world. As a young black man Slim saw pimping as being one of the few opportunities open to him to become rich. His mentor, Sweet Jones hates white people as a result of his father having been murdered by a white lynch mob and his mother having been raped by the same mob. Sweet tells Slim that black pimps where the early heroes who turned the tables on their former slave masters by becoming prosperous in pimping. It is ironic that Sweet and Slim fail to see that they themselves are slave owners of a kind and are perpetuating the practices of the former plantation owners (it is Sweet who recommends to Slim he keeps his girls in line by the use of practices including whipping with coat hangers). The slave holders of yester year would, no doubt have been proud of them!

As a child Slim’s mother has relationships with a number of unsuitable men including with Slim’s father who, at one point throws the child against the wall. The exception to this rule is the gentle Henry who dotes on both Slim and his mother. However Slim’s mother leaves Henry for another man, had she stayed with Henry who Slim clearly adores it is very possible that I wouldn’t have read Pimp as the author wouldn’t have entered the world of pimping.

On reading Pimp one wonders why the women Slim controlled put up with their treatment at the hands of Iceberg. Fear goes some way to explaining it, however this is not the only explanation. Working on the streets and frequently unobserved by Slim his ladies had many opportunities to escape. One or two of them did but many others did not. Ironically a number of the girls “loved” Slim and convinced themselves that their feelings where reciprocated which explains why they remained with him. In particular one girl sends Slim money while he is in prison (she could have stolen it but chose instead to sell his car, on Slim’s instructions and send the cash to him).

In the end it is the fear of dying in prison rather than any moral revulsion which leads Slim to exit pimping. There is, so far as I can see no wholehearted moral rejection of his former life but I haven’t read any of the interviews which he gave subsequently so perhaps I am wrong on that point.

If you want a comfortable bedtime read then Pimp by Iceberg Slim is not for you. However if you want to try and understand why a man might enter the world of pimping then this book makes a fascinating read.

It Must Be True

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It must be true, it’s here in black and white, celebrity raped by martian in the middle of the night.

It must be true, paedophiles are everywhere, innuendo and suspicion fill the air.

It must be true, immigrants are stealing are jobs, I read it in that organ of truth, The Daily Slob.

Look at that couple on reality TV, he watched while his girlfriend had sex with is best friend’s wife, but what has that got to do with my life?!

A Suburban Liverpool Street in Springtime

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Wind chimes swaying in a gentle spring breeze, birds twittering in the trees. The scent of roses fills the air, the sound of lawn mowers a distant purr. Smell of hay warm and sweet, I long to feel it under my feet. but other people cut the grass, their garden gates I may not pass.

Girl and Man

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Young lady older man, is there love or a cunning plan? Middle aged man with younger girl, does love exist in this world? What thoughts pass through your heads, as you lie entwined in your bed? Girl are you there or far away? What holds you, makes you stay?

“Oh my darling man why worry? enjoy me while you can. Life is short, I am sweet. Give in to lust then let us sleep”.

Victims of Circumstance

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The causes of human action are a source of endless fascination to me. There is a tendency inherent in much discourse to ascribe simple explanations to why humans act as they do. Marxists argue that it is the economic base (the wealth of individuals and their status in society) which largely determines why persons behave in specific ways, for example people living in poverty are more likely to turn to criminality while the rich are likely to vote for parties which will sustain the capitalist status-quo. Others argue that it is genetics which explains human motivation and that of other animals. Thus the individual possessing “good” genetic material is likely to do well academically, attain a well paying job and be less likely to turn to criminality than the individual who has “inferior” genetic material.

Both positions are reductionist in that they attempt to ascribe simple explanations to the behaviour of highly complex living organisms. While it is undoubtedly the case that many people filling our jails are from deprived backgrounds most of those from “the wrong side of the tracks” do not become criminals. Again individuals from apparently loving and well-to-do backgrounds do, on occasions turn to crime for reasons which are difficult to fathom.

All of the above brings me to the point of this post, why do educated middle class girls turn to the world’s oldest profession? The prostitute is often portrayed as a victim of circumstance by the media and in literature, a poor down trodden drug addicted person possessing little (if any) autonomy). There are of course women and men who fit into this stereotype, however many sex workers are not drug addicts and by no means all of them are ill educated. I will explore in a future story why a lady from an affluent background turns to sex work of her own volition. While I have ideas for my story they are far from being set in concrete. The longer I live the more I come to realise that reductionist approaches contain at best only partial explanations to complex issues. Yes social and economic forces do help to shape the lives of humanity but humans are not mere feathers blown hither and thither by them. The ideas emanating from human brains and the actions flowing from them also shape our lives and those of others for better or worse.

Rachel Moran Memoir of a Former Prostitute

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The Irish Times for 13 April carries a piece about Rachel Moran, a former Irish prostitute and her book which details Moran’s experiences in prostitution (see http://www.irishtimes.com/life-and-style/people/the-myth-of-the-happy-hooker-1.1358702?page=1. For my review of Moran’s book please visit http://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/4075228-paid-for-my-journey-into-prostitution-by-rachel-moran).

Moran’s experiences as a street prostitute and, later an escort has lead the author to advocate that Ireland and other nations introduce the Swedish model under which people who pay for sex are criminalised while prostitutes are offered assistance to leave the trade. In Moran’s view men who purchase sex are abusing women and take positive delight in doing so. Abuse is by it’s very nature unacceptable and those who buy women’s bodies should be named and shamed.

Having just read Moran’s book I was unsurprised by what she says in the above mentioned article in the Irish Times. However the comments from those who are either (or have been engaged) in the sex industry which follow on from the article are of interest. Other prostitutes and those with knowledge of the industry question Moran’s perspective that prostitution is necessarily exploitative. She is accused by one lady in particular of misrepresenting the effectiveness of the Swedish Law on Prostitution in preventing the trade. The commenter further contends that in contrast to what Moran states the Swedish approach makes the lives of prostitutes harder than was the case prior to the introduction of the legislation.

In my short story, The First Time we meet Becky a young student who enters the world of prostitution as an escort in order to pay off her credit card bill. The psychological effects of working in the sex industry on both Becky and her fellow escort and Friend Julie are examined as are the ladies interactions with their clients. No doubt Rachel Moran would see the fictional Becky as being exploited by Mike, the first man who purchases her services as an escort. However Mike does not threaten Becky either verbally or physically. In fact Julie informs her friend that there are clients “much worse than Mike Carter” and goes on to describe an encounter with a client who wanted her to pretend to be his teenage daughter.

Moran has understandably been deeply traumatised by her participation in prostitution, however whether she can speak on behalf of all prostitutes is, to my mind a debatable question as is exemplified by the comments generated in response to the above article and memoirs of other prostitutes which do not paint the same picture as Moran. Whatever one’s views on the issue of prostitution I’d recommend reading Moran’s book. As it provides a fascinating portrayal from one lady’s perspective on the oldest profession.

Don’t Make Me Blush!

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A week or so ago I was at my local station on the way into work when I fell into conversation with a gentleman who works as an editor. As a writer this was a perfect opportunity for me to discuss writing and perhaps (naughty me) even obtain some free advice! What did I do? I listened politely to my companion’s description of his work but not one hint of the fact that I am a writer did I give!

I am by nature shy and relatively reserved. I find it easy to promote my writing using this blog and other social media tools such as Twitter. Sitting here at my laptop my face retains it’s natural colour when I say “I am a writer”, however face to face with a stranger I blush with embarrassment and am at times almost apologetic when stating this fact. I guess that I am typically British in that I’m deeply imbued with the belief that it isn’t the done thing to blow one’s own trumpet. Of course as an author I need to promote myself, but this doesn’t prevent me from feeling embarrassed when telling an acquaintance that I write. Maybe I’ll get business cards produced saying “Kevin Morris writer” with my blog address printed on them and press the cards into the hands of random strangers irrespective of whether they wish to receive them or not. Then again maybe I will continue to blush when informing people that I write while remaining hidden behind this computer screen!