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Albert Marquet (1875-1947) La femme blonde (Femme blonde sur un fond de châle espagnol) 1919, oil on canvas, 98.5 x 98.5 cm, Musée National d’Art Moderne, Centre Georges Pompidou, Paris
What’s New
When you’ve finally had enough
by Celia MorrisIf you’re after a novel that will reassure you of the predictability of love, Alissa Nutting’s contribution probably isn’t for you. It has been a while since I encountered a story so delightfully bizarre that still has something very important to say: a human’s capacity for love is, quite possibly, boundless.
Fiction
When She Showed Me Her Legs
by Michael GrotskyMorrison woke suddenly from the all-too-vivid dream. Dolores was, in fact, gone. With the hangovers they usually had, first thing they craved in the morning were those shots of espresso firing out of the machine, so they would slip out the door of the Grand Orient fast as they could and up to a counter, any counter, and ordered up two doubles to get it started.
Reviews
When you’ve finally had enough
by Celia MorrisIf you’re after a novel that will reassure you of the predictability of love, Alissa Nutting’s contribution probably isn’t for you. It has been a while since I encountered a story so delightfully bizarre that still has something very important to say: a human’s capacity for love is, quite possibly, boundless.
Love & Sex
The Cock Whisperer
by Karin Jones
At the tender age of eleven, having never been kissed by a boy or known anything more than the musky, metallic odor of the ones who played in dirt, I stumbled upon The Joy of Sex while snooping in my parent’s bedroom closet. Paging through this original 1972 version, filled with line drawings of hirsute, naked heterosexuals doing unfathomable things my body vibrated, not with pleasure but horror, the kind of weak-kneed fear you feel near the end of Silence of the Lambs. What distressed me more than discovering that his part goes into her part, was the things they did with their mouths to said parts.
Galleries
Henry Monnier (1799 – 1877) A Group of Erotic Miniatures
Henry Bonaventure Monnier, artist and playwright, was born 7 June 1799. After studying at the Lycée Bonaparte, he frequented the workshops of the neo-classical artists Anne-Louis Girodet-Trioson and Baron Antoine–Jean Gros. Aged just 23, Monnier went to live in London, returning to Paris five years later where he started to encounter and befriend a glittering cast of authors and painters of the time: Alexandre Dumas, Théophile Gautier, Stendhal, Eugène Sue, Prosper Mérimée, Eugène Scribe, Eugène Delacroix, Louis Boulanger and Honoré de Balzac.
Articles
Sexual Violence in the Canberra Bubble
by Binoy KampmarkPolitics tend to attract a certain sort: the crawler, the ambition-filled thrill seeker, the disturbed, and the sociopathic. Along the way, the odd good egg is bound to be found, the seeker of justice who wants to right the world and order it. Go to the capital, change the world as you see fit. At the very least, give it a go.
History Of Pleasure
Respectable Women Don’t Wear Pants
by Lucy Roeber
Nowadays, not wearing underpants is a statement. It’s an act of seduction or daring or extreme forgetfulness. Going commando is whispered and giggled about. It’s funny and possibly sexy and definitely out of the ordinary. However, in the 18th century, respectable women didn’t wear pants, only whores did.