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Good Vibes Radiant Rose
$48.99
from Babeland
Babeland and Good Vibes previously sold this toy under the One brand, (not to be confused with PlusOne; The One appears to be a brand specifically for Babeland/GV). You can still get it as part of the One Threeway bundle, but separately, it’s sold as the GV Radiant Rose. That’s what I’ll call it in this review.
We’re not going to talk about why it took so long for me to write and post this review, but we can talk about why it took me so long to write about any rose toy. It’s not just that they’re super trendy, although the strong marketing campaigns of what were clearly white-label toys left me feeling so inundated that it was surely part of the reason. In a world chock-full of fake reviews on social media and product listings, it’s become harder than ever to tell whether a toy is a complete piece of crap that looks nice.. or is actually worth trying. I couldn’t navigate that world before the One brand showed up from a store that I trust, so I decided to give it a try.
But the main reason I wasn’t interested in rose toys prior to this is that suction toys have thus far failed to do anything for me. I don’t know how much my anatomy plays a role, but it definitely doesn’t mesh with my style of masturbation, which centers around pressure. I’d only tried a couple of brands, but was so underwhelmed that I wasn’t interested in trying any more. The Radiant Rose offers vibrations as well as suction, so I thought that might make a difference.
And it did.
But not the way I expected.
I tried the Radiant Rose with suction and vibration separately and then both together. Overall, I found it to be incredibly overwhelming when using vibrations, which center directly around your clit if it’s in the suction hole (although you don’t have to use it that way for vibes alone; it’s certainly intended that way). When you turn on the toy and look into the hole for the clitoris, you can see the thin membrane of silicone move with the vibration. It’s rather aggressive, in my opinion—uncomfortable and sometimes painful. I’m someone who tends to stimulate the whole vulva area with less direct clitoral stimulation, and I found myself unconsciously pulling my body away from the toy or clenching to avoid the aggressive vibration of the silicone itself and not the body of the toy. For those who require direct clitoral stimulation, this might be a godsend, however.
Because the silicone itself vibrates, I find it difficult to describe the nature of the vibrations. They’re neither super buzzy nor deep, and will likely be plenty strong enough for many people. But the experience is so different that you almost need to throw what you know about vibrators out the window.
On the other hand, the vibrations overwhelmed the suction when using them simultaneously. Suction tends to be a little more understated, and it just couldn’t compete with the vibrations. So even if you love both functions, I’m not sure that using them at the same time is an improvement over using one or the other. I also don’t think that the single button makes a lot of sense with multiple types of stimulation. Surely there should be at least two buttons!
And when it comes to the suction. I was again underwhelmed. I’m not sure if it’s a good fit for me, although I’m positive the recommendation to use lube is supposed to help it work with a variety of bodies. You might recall that suction toys initially came with multiple nozzles to find the best fit. Because there’s no nozzle, removable or otherwise, the Radiant Rose might not work for everyone. In an economy like this, people might not want to risk the sale price of $48.99, let alone the full price of $69.99. And that’s totally understandable.
Aside from the vibrations and suction, I didn’t find the toy to be particularly comfortable to use or hold. The short rose design was hard on my fingers. If you like the stimulation and can hold it with a featherlight touch, this might not be an issue for you. The vibrations also easily transferred to my hands, which is always annoying. And I didn’t find it easy to locate the button with my fingers during use. I had to remove
Placement can also be an issue. Because the entire face of the rose gets placed against the vulva, it’s possible that it might be too large to comfortably fit between some labia and below the mons pubis, especially if your clitoris sits higher. If that sounds like your anatomy, you might prefer a suction toy with only a smaller nozzle that touches your body.
I’m also surprised at the aesthetics of the rose toy. The box recommends using it with lube, as I would generally also recommend, but it ignores the sharp ridges created by the petals, which include some deep and difficult-to-clean crevices if you get any lube or bodily fluids in it (the suction part itself does not open directly into the toy like some of Satisfyer’s older styles; it’s completely covered in silicone). This is a laughably bad design choice that nearly all the rose toys use, likely because many of them are private label toys made from the same exact molds. There is one rose toy that somewhat tackles this issue with a removable nozzle for cleaning and rounded petal edges that are less likely to collect gunk, and it’s made by Lovehoney. I wish Good Vibes would head in that direction for hygiene purposes.
Despite the silicone sheath, the Radiant Rose is only splash-proof, not waterproof. That means you’ll have no trouble washing it (and you’ll likely need running water to wash out the ridges), and you can take it into the shower without worry. But do not submerge it.
One thing I do appreciate is that it’s magnetic. It’s magnetic, and it works with other magnetic chargers, which I discovered when I had to use a Fun Factory (RIP) charger because I wasn’t sure where the charger that came with it was. Magnetic chargers may be all cross-compatible as long as the contact points line up, which would be great. I hate how many proprietary cables I’ve collected. Anyway, has anyone made a charging mat for multiple magnetic toys yet? Or do these work with a car’s Qi charger? If not, someone should get on that. Give me royalties for the idea, though! Charging is super fast with a magnetic charger that plugs directly into an outlet like that, but the original charging cable, which I have since found, has a standard USB plug on the other end with no adapter/block, which explains why I tossed it aside initially. The product is designed to offer 45 minutes of use after 90 minutes of charging. That’s.. yikes. Quite the ratio. But it’s likely because it has two functions.
I also realized that this brand isn’t consistent with charging styles. The Wand uses a standard charger that you plug into a port on the end of the toy, and the Flicker vibe and rabbit have magnetic contact points that are closer together than the points on the rose, so you can’t use the same cables (but the cables those come with seem identical to those that come with some other white label vibrators).
In contrast, the rose sits vertically on a little charging disc, like the much smaller evolution of the Form 2. The idea is that you’d keep it prominently in its place on your nightstand–if you liked it, of course. Many nightstands and lamps, including my new one, have USB ports, so I could do that. The magnetic connection is surprisingly strong, but it wouldn’t be impossible for you or a pet to knock the rose off its base or for the whole thing to fall off a surface, even though there’s a small silicone or rubber dot on the underside, ostensibly to keep it in place.
I know that it seems like I’ve talked about how this toy charges more than how it works. But treating charging connections and cables as an afterthought rather than a cohesive part of the overall brand strategy isn’t good for the reputation (and is one of the complaints I had about Funzze toys). It says that cutting costs or getting product sold quickly is more important than being consistent and reliable and respecting the consumer. It’s a reflection of the overall market and of individual brands. It’s also something that I am sure few people are talking about, which is a shame. It matters.
And the lack of respect for buyers is why it’s so hard to make heads or tails of the sheer number of rose toys out there. It’s why I can’t really say whether this is a good or bad toy compared to others, because there are so many nearly identical toys – including the Inya rose that Babeland also carries. It’s impossible to tell if they’re actually the same on the inside. And in the broader scheme, there’s a bunch of seemingly attractive vibrators that are super weak and slipshod in design. Once upon a time, a toy’s appearance gave you some information about its value and performance, but it’s become too easy to make attractive toys that perform poorly.
The best I can say is, sure, if you’re interested in the rose and suction toys have typically worked for you (or you have reason to think they might), and you can get it on sale and won’t regret the price if it doesn’t work for you, then give it a go. I just don’t feel like I can strongly promote it.
I didn’t mean this to turn into a rant, but we’re in a vastly different Internet than when I first started this blog. A lot of people have come and gone, and a lot of information seems to have been forgotten.. even if the websites that contain it still exist. There are people falling for fake reviews on Amazon listings for $15 toys that might not be made of body-safe materials, and that’s… just the norm now.
While nothing I say will stop people from making — or buying — white label sex toys, and I realize that everyone who wants to remain relevant has to hop on the trends and compete with bottom-dollar Chinese manufacturers, I do wish a brand like Good Vibes/Babeland hadn’t sunk to that level. How do you navigate a market that’s 99% crap, and you can no longer trust the brand names or signals that once hinted at quality?
Things are definitely not coming up roses.
BDSM Zapper 2.0 by Kink
$49.99
from Kink Store
When I got the chance to review the Zapper 2.0 by Kink, I had to say yes. I’ve only got a few electricity toys, including this Neon Wand. But while the Zapper might fall in the same overall category, it works much differently.
Rather than seeing the current running down the glass accessories, the Zapper has two metal prongs that make contact with your, er, victim. Much like a cattle prod. There are three settings, which I tried from low to high because I’m not that much of a masochist. The site describes the settings as having a range between 1.5kV and 3.5kV, which I assume are low and high, respectively. I assume the medium is somewhere between 2 and 2.5kv given the low and high power levels. A common static shock is usually between 3 and 10kV, to give you some idea of what we’re talking about. Like a static shock, the Zapper produces a momentary sensation. It’s over as fast as it begins.
My experience of each setting goes like this
Honestly, I don’t mind that the highest setting has more bark than bite. It will still make someone jump. I think you can do a lot of mindfucking with this system, either threatening to turn it to high or switching between settings without letting your partner know what you’re choosing. And if you want to increase the sensation, you can always focus the Zapper on the same body part more than once or by using it in conjunction with another sensation or impact play device. The visible welts make it clear where the most impact has occurred. Layering the types of stimulation can have a synergetic effect, or you could use the Zapper on one body part while doing something else to a different body part.
The Zapper feels rather safe because it’s producing electricity similar to a static shock, which we’ve all experienced at some point. We’re not talking about high power, but you could only stick to below the belt if you want to be extra safe (although, I think using it on the nipple could be a ton of fun!).
The rubberized grip also makes it easy to hold, especially because it’s not tiny. It’s 15 inches long total, and the grip has a 1.25″ diameter. It feels significant in my small hands and doesn’t require a precise grip, which might be helpful for those with motor issues. The downside is that it’s not discreet. Someone will definitely see it in your hand if you’re in front of them and they’re not blindfolded. But that can be part of the fun!
The website clearly states that you should not
The second version of this toy offers some necessary safety improvements that prevent the Zapper from discharging when not in use. You need to press and hold the button, which turns on a red light, to create the charge before placing it against the skin. It won’t discharge without holding that button, which I appreciate. This is especially important because you don’t want it discharging while handling, traveling or cleaning. And you may want a damp cloth to wipe down the toy if it gets bodily fluids on it or, say, your cat sneezes all over it (gross!).
Overall, the two buttons–one to switch strength and one to charge–are easy to use, even if you don’t read any instructions. In fact, the least intuitive thing I found is that the Zapper 2.0 still uses two AA batteries, which are included. I’m so accustomed to modern toys being rechargeable that this took me by surprise. But the company explained that this decision allowed them to have appropriate voltage. The battery cap does screw off the bottom like ye olde vibrators, however, so it’s not tricky.
I was curious about the number of discharges, which the company informed me is about 300 with fully charged batteries. That’s potentially a lot of use. It all depends on how often and how you use the Zapper. I’ve only used a few dozen for testing purposes. I can’t imagine how long it would take me to drain the batteries! I expect the Zapper will remain charged and waiting for me for quite some time.
As I wrap this up, I want to mention that the rubberized material does show smudges easily, and they like to stick. I tried to remove some from mine to take a photo, but they were stubborn. Not that it impacts use, of course. Just makes photos a little more difficult (and I already struggled due to its length). But I expect if you’re using this, photos won’t be your main concern.
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Funzze Round Shape Handheld Massager
$39.99
from Funzze
Psst, you can get 30% off sitewide from Funzze until December 1st! Just head to their site and the discount will apply in your cart.
By now, my long-term readers should know that I prefer clitoral stimulation and need a lot of pressure, which is hard on my fingers, that already struggle with sniffiness, even if the toy is plush. So I’m always on the lookout for vibrators that seem like they might work well with my preferences and needs. This leads me to dislike toys that place buttons exactly where I want to press to get some pressure.. and to try some interesting toys, like the Pleasure Tops, Tuyo, or even Lelo’s Ora.
This vibrator by Funzze appeared to fit the bill. The rounded, wider base attaches to a smaller rounded handle, which boasts the button. The design looked to have enough room for your fingers, unlike some that are supposedly designed for this purpose but don’t leave enough room for your fingers. I was also intrigued by the broader base.
So how does it hold up in person?
Upon unboxing, I immediately realized the neck of this toy was flexible, so it wouldn’t serve my purposes for getting a lot of pressure. Bummer. Especially because the knob has nearly a 2-inch diameter, which could relieve some tension on my fingers if the neck were (nearly) rigid. As a result, I wound up using my fingers to press down on the toy in such a way that was awkward and uncomfortable.
I can’t discuss the shape of the vibrator without mentioning the vibrations. Unfortunately, they’re rather weak and buzzy, not unlike the Finger Vibe. Funzze has some decent designs that would be hard to beat if the vibrations were stronger and deeper. For anyone who really needs that, including me, this toy and brand might be a miss. Because of the lackluster vibrations, I found simply placing the vibrator against my body was underwhelming.
Instead, I found it more stimulating to use the toy at an angle with the edge between my labia. Eventually, I was able to get off, but it took a bit of time and effort, and I would have done just as well with my hands. In this position, the handle wasn’t helpful, either.
I think the best use of this toy is as a massager, perhaps with some slick lube or massage oil, being run lightly over the skin, much like a massage stone–if you don’t mind the lighter vibrations. Alternatively, you could hold it against your clitoris or other sensitive parts. Again, if you don’t need something with super strong vibrations.
As you can see from the product photos, the handle looks like it has a bit of a face due to the two ridges on either side of the button. This impression doesn’t go away when the toy’s on and the button lights up blue. For some reason, my brain sees this as bird-like, ha! The ridges help you to find the button but they’re not necessary, and I’d prefer a raised button myself than the single nearly-flush button powers the toy on and off (hold for a few seconds), and cycles through the settings. A second button would be welcome to handle some of those functions.
Continuing the birdy comparison, the contact points for the magnetic charger are on top of the bird’s “head.” Funzze toys come with a USB charging cable and no adapter to plug them into an outlet. This one was charged out of the box, and I haven’t had to recharge it.
Funzze toys also come with a storage bag, but the shape of this vibe makes it difficult to store in a bag, IMO. It’s made from silicone and can safely be stored outside of its pouch. There’s some softness to the silicone, and it attracts some lints, but it’s not the worst ever.
But when it comes to my toys, I want better than that, you know? An interesting design doesn’t do much if it’s not thouroughly thought out, and if the company can’t even come up with unique names, I have to wonder how much thought they’ve giving to design. A rechargeable battery makes little difference if I never want to use a vibe again.
I know this vibrator is incredibly affordable (especially because most toys have gone up in price over years), and I know money is tight for many, but I’d rather steer my readers toward something a bit more expensive or nothing at all.
Diy: The Wonderfully Weird History and Science of Masturbation
https://amzn.to/40ebzIV
from Amazon
I wasn’t planning to post another book review so soon, but I listened to Dr. Eric Sprankle’s book, Diy: The Wonderfully Weird History and Science of Masturbation, on a whim and I couldn’t not review it!
Dr. Sprankle hails from Minnesota, where he teaches, researches, and treats issues related to sexuality, making him more than qualified to write such a book. He’s been on my radar and follow lists for some time, so it’s wild that I think I missed the announcement of DIY last year. I wasn’t initially super thrilled because I’ve read a lot of books that cover similar ground to this book, including Buzz. And while Dr. Sprankle does discuss many things with which I’m familiar, such as the advent of Frosted Flakes or semen retention practices, he consistently does so in a way that prevents it from feeling redundant. I truly can’t say this about every book. Many books are a struggle to get through because of my familiarity with the subject.
Sprankle’s sense of humor, which he describes as “irreverent,” is certainly part of the reason this book was such a joy for me that I found myself binging nearly half of the audiobook, which he reads himself, during my first listen. That humor won’t be for everyone, but I get the feeling that the author knows this and leans into it because people like me, who do enjoy his wit, will enjoy the book all the more for it. The humor is consistent as Dr. Sprankle takes us through arguments and movements against masturbation, from protecting the children to porn addiction to sex toy bans to homophobia to the infantilization of older adults. The organization was so seamless, no doubt aided by the author’s narrative approach, that I almost didn’t notice the transition between chapters. With just nine chapters and the conclusion in addition to the humor, the book is a breeze. I finished it in just three sittings, and one was quite short.
Despite its relatively short length and many contents being familiar to me, I was surprised by how much Dr. Sprankle included that was new to me, including information about jack-off clubs. Yet despite knowing his shit, the author never comes off as condescending or pretentious. This is an incredibly accessible book that doesn’t require the reader to be overly familiar with research or medical terms. He wants readers to feel okay when exploring their solo sexuality because it’s natural and healthy, and so many people do so anyway. There’s just no reason to feel or pretend otherwise. I imagine many in the general public will like it.. as long as they don’t ardently disagree with the premise.
And people do disagree. The book addresses some of those people, including conservative, religious groups, and incels, directly. I especially appreciate the latter because most books of this nature don’t, perhaps because it’s a relatively new phenomenon. With that said, Dr. Sprankle’s nonchalance about the mythical risks of masturbation and the people who want to sell them to the public will likely ruffle some feathers. It’s why, I’m sure, I’ve seen a number of negative ratings online that weren’t accompanied by names or reviews. You can’t write something like this without making at least a little target of yourself.
I’m glad he did, however. If it helps at least one person feel better about masturbation, it’s worth it. If it can become a tool in the arsenal of professionals, even better! It’s the cherry on top that the read (listen) was so damned enjoyable!
When adding DIY to my completed list on Goodreads, I was glad to see that its rating is over 4 stars. This is the book that I’d love to give 4.5 stars to because I think books essentially need to be perfect to earn that rating. Yet, there’s no glaring omission to point out. Perhaps I just want there to be more to this book because I enjoyed it. That’s it. That’s the review.
P.S., I love the clever cover.
Sex in Canada
$19
from Amazon
I first came across Sex in Canada when another Sexual Health Alliance student was looking for recent research to incorporate into a class they were teaching. While Indiana University and The Kinsey Institute research how people identify and what they do in the bedroom here in the United States with their National Survey of Sexual Health and Behavior, the most recent information in this study focuses on condom use and young people. More generalized findings about American sexuality are less recent. I know that there’s a thriving sexuality research culture in Canada and thought that by the nature of being Western countries, there might be enough overlap that American sex educators or therapists could rely on Canadian data to fill in the gaps. This led me to Sex In Canada, a book published earlier this year by Tina Fetner of McMaster University.
Fetner’s book is the culmination of years of sexuality research, essentially Canada’s sexual census. Like Justin Lehmiller, who laid out his research about sexual fantasies in a book rather than a paper, Fetner opted to publish a more accessible overview of her studies. I appreciate this approach because it’s the first time Canadian researchers have attempted such a comprehensive survey of the country’s citizens, and they asked some questions that have been left out of American sex research.
Sex in Canada is still relatively short while remaining more accessible to most than an academic paper. Fetner dedicates a chapter each to sexual identity, frequency, relationships in which sex happens, sexual activities, pain–both wanted and not–and the social organization of sex before wrapping up. She also includes inline graphs for each finding she discusses in these pages. These choices make it easy to follow the research from basic to more advanced concepts. It also contributed to my quick realization that there are more differences between American and Canadian bedrooms than I initially thought. This latter fact is bolstered by Fetner referencing existing research, which sometimes focused on American participants.
Admittedly, it was a little challenging to get into Sex in Canada at first. It can be dry, and while Fetner provides some background research in each chapter, she writes like an academic and isn’t trying to create a narrative like a novelist. I don’t think a book like this needs to do that, but I’ve seen a review that touches on it. That said, the graphs and sections in each chapter make this book fairly scannable, and it’s easy to put it down and pick it back up again.
My interest was especially piqued by learning how Canadians go about sex differently than Americans. They generally seem to be a bit more conservative than Americans. I was particularly taken by the legality of common-law marriage after just one year in Canada, which has never really been a thing anywhere I’ve lived in the States. This approach means marriage rates are lower overall than their neighbors to the south, although they’re falling in both countries.
There are also specific demographics within Canada that differ from the U.S., starting with French Canadians. However, the differences aren’t as easily described as more or less sexually permissive. Canada’s government and academic institutions also have a specific relationship with First Nations people than their American counterparts due to our native population. Fetnet addresses this sensitively when she touches on First Nations’ sexuality and encourages readers to learn about the oppression they’ve experienced directly from the community. However, I could see how someone who wants to use this book as a primer might be annoyed with this approach.
For some, Sex in Canada may not offer enough to chow down on, but they’re likely expecting beyond the scope of a book explaining research findings. Fetner’s words are straightforward, lending to the book’s brevity. Her prose ultimately repeats the graphs, and someone could rely on the visuals alone if they want. The conclusion also sums up the previous research, and readers could flip to this final section for a high-level overview of what’s going on in Canada’s bedrooms instead of reading the entire book. But Fetner can only write about what she and her team revealed by their research.
Because Sex in Canada is relatively short and well organized, it would make a great reference book on the shelves or in the curriculum of many educators, and therapists might benefit from it, too. It would be especially helpful for those practicing in Canada or who want to discuss sexuality on a global scale, although I think some things do generalize. Casual readers may not find it overly engaging, and some academics may prefer a paper in PDF form to a book like this, but for those who need a book like this, I’m glad it exists.
The Rise of Digital Sex Work
$30+
from Bookshop
At first, Kurt Fowler seems like an unlikely candidate to write about sex work. As a researcher and instructor, he isn’t directly connected with sex work or even the general field of sexuality. However, as a criminologist, Fowler is in the perfect position to research and educate on something that is illegal, even if the topic is often overlooked by academia. Although I have opinions about our judicial system–including sex work’s illegality–I hadn’t thought much about criminology as a field before reading The Rise of Digital Sex Work, and doing so prompted me to consider it. Similarly, Fowler made no statements about his opinion on the legality of sex work. Although he clearly feels compassion and respect for the sex workers with whom he spoke, Fowler’s book is a platform for their voices.
From the very beginning, Fowler weaves his research into a narrative that includes himself. He’s a skillful writer, and this will be more engaging to some readers. Perhaps more importantly, doing so explains how he had to work to build trust with the sex workers whom he interviewed, including them screening him with his employer, and highlights the unique humanity of every single participant mentioned. For those who would rather read a more succinct paper with a more structured analysis of the research rather than relying on the narrative he crafted, this book might not be the perfect fit. But I think Fowler’s decision to write it this way makes it appealing to a wider audience, and that means more readers have a chance to understand the nuances of sex work.
Although the book’s focus is digital sex work in its various forms, physical sex work is mentioned multiple times. This was sometimes the case because sex workers did or had done both, including those who moved online because of COVID-19. It also naturally came up as sex workers discussed their privilege in relation to others, which happened frequently. Much like his participants. Fowler was very open about the class, racial, and even geographic privileges most of the participants experienced. They are whiter and more educated than sex workers at large, and their experiences and thoughts can only be generalized to other sex workers so much as risk is not experienced equally–one of the reasons Fowler suspected a more diverse demographic did not respond to his study. Yet he painted a picture of sex workers as generally thoughtful, intelligent, and compassionate people, something that may be overlooked or entirely denied by those who might oppose sex workers or the work itself.
In general, sex workers simply want to be allowed to do their jobs without the fear of criminalization, and more than one takes on arguments about selling their bodies by pointing out how this is true in many jobs. Multiple sex workers expressed a preference for the freedom and autonomy in these roles as opposed to traditional careers, some of which they’d left without ever looking back. Interference by police and politics was also a common thread in these discussions. In an ostensible effort to decrease trafficking, these people and organizations often set their sights on sex workers, who reasonably seem to think they understand the difference between sex work and trafficking better than those who make and enforce the laws. Similarly, the assessment that these efforts waste the time and resources of both the police and sex workers seems quite reasonable, and readers gain an understanding of the world’s attitudes and legislation through sex work.
Because this book focuses on digital sex work, Fowler dove into the use of technology used by sex workers, specifically screening and communication tools. The fact that workers must carefully balance communicating in an appealing manner with clients while minimizing the unpaid time spent doing so quickly became apparent. Like all of us in the age of smartphones, sex workers are expected to be perpetually available to those who want their attention, even when it is costly or detrimental. The workers expressed their annoyance with time wasters, including those who wanted free sexting and law enforcement setting up traps. However, the people Fowler talked to also showed their savvy when weeding out potentially dangerous or unpleasant customers, and the importance of community to accomplish this was acknowledged repeatedly. Furthermore, the sex worker community was repeatedly mentioned as a source of support for a group of people who are so often treated poorly–by clients, law enforcement, and society at large. It’s no wonder many sex workers do not reveal their jobs to protect their privacy and well-being. Online communities offer a place where sex workers can speak freely and reduce isolation.
It is easy to see how the Internet provides resources that keep sex workers safe like never before but also how the internet poses a risk and those resources have become harder to find due to legislation, which Fowler discusses. One sex worker whose work was revealed to her family and friends (aka doxxing) took extreme care to protect her identity when talking with the author because she knew all too well the risks that come with digital sex work, even though it usually doesn’t include violence against sex workers. As sex work has moved online (in part to avoid COVID-19), those who do the job have had to surreptitiously master online marketing and branding in addition to safety measures. Here, Fowler discusses some of the specific tools used to accomplish those goals. The author always respects digital sex workers as entrepreneurs or freelancers, whichever you prefer, and readers learn how much there is to succeed in the field, which shares many similarities with other digital work or arts that similarly require self-promotion and branding.
The timing of this book is prescient because so many people are more aware of digital sex workers because of the COVID-19 pandemic and the popularity of OnlyFans. However, Fowler found himself at a disadvantage because he wrote the majority of the book before the pandemic, which he commented on. If there were any area where the author could expand, it might be in discussing the increased competition and, potentially, visibility due to OnlyFans and the pandemic, which I have heard about. This would have required more time researching and writing, of course, and every project needs to end at some point. While the book stands on its own without a chapter dedicated to the changes in sex work ushered in by COVID-19, a dedicated chapter would be most welcome.
There is some room for improvement in the book’s organization, which could be streamlined. It is not pithy and is heavy on dialog. Aside from headings, there isn’t a lot of formatting, which could be used to draw the reader’s attention to or reify important information, potentially as chapter wrap-ups. I also wish that Fowler had been able to connect with a more diverse group of sex workers, but there is plenty of opportunity for him–or others–to expand on this work and accomplish that goal. While Fowler discusses specific technological tools or platforms in the book, an entire book could be written on the technology that is so pivotal in (digital) sex work, not to mention sex work advocacy.
The Rise of Digital Sex Work pulls back the curtain on a world that I am sure many people find intriguing. However, it could also be useful professionally, by sex therapists, law enforcement, or politicians, for example, to ensure sex workers are treated fairly and respectfully. It is a frustrating fact that people need constant reminding that sex workers are, in fact, human, and Kurt Fowler has done the legwork to produce a book with academic quality that can be used as a resource by anyone who finds themselves having to make that argument. I recommend it to anyone interested in the topic and hope to see more academics follow in Fowler’s footsteps.
