Editor’s note: I was unaware of the Collinses’ pronatalist views and connections to far-right politics, including tacit support of eugenics, when I began reading this book. The review will remain up because it offers a critical look at a publication with many flaws that have received favorable reviews from people who often don’t know better and/or support harmful essentialist or misogynistic views.
I’ll be honest: I’m not sure when I first discovered The Pragmatist’s Guide to Sexuality and began reading it. Nevertheless, I know it was closer to my return to school, which may have been fortuitous. You see, I initially began the book and found myself confused over both the argument the authors, Malcolm and Simone Collins, were making, and the format of the book, That’s never a good thing. I wound up taking a break from reading The Pragmatist’s Guide to Sexuality while I focused on other books, specifically those for my classes. When I finally returned to the book, I had a better understanding of what the authors were trying to say–and the weaknesses in their argument.
You see, Malcolm Collins views himself as a “gentleman researcher,” and I can’t fault him for that. Who hasn’t had questions about sexuality? And thanks to the Internet, anyone can put up a poll or a survey–or even a Reddit thread if you want to be even more informal–to try to get answers to questions about our weird turn-ons. Not everyone understands how to design and run research that is as ethical, educational, and representative as possible. By the time I returned to the book, I had taken a psychological statistics course and written my own paper, which enabled me to apply a critical eye when reading this book. Malcolm Collins and his wife, Simone, come from a business background, so I suppose it’s no surprise that the pair weren’t able to apply the same critical eye to their book.
Unfortunately, The Pragmatist’s Guide to Sexuality suffers for it. At various points, I wondered whether and how the authors disqualified participants who were essentially trolling or applied statistical analyses to the data to determine significance, things which were sometimes discussed in passing but the authors failed to make explicit. Furthermore, I noticed inconsistencies in language that weakened the book’s argument. Specifically, the authors seemed unsure whether they wanted to use “males” and “females” as nouns or “men” and “women,” respectively. Although I prefer the use of “women” in everyday language because to call us “females” is often dehumanizing, I understand that researchers typically use the more detached “females.” The Collinses flipped between the two, sometimes in the same sentence or paragraph, in a way that suggested the need for more stringent editing at the very least.
When it comes to what helped me better understand this book’s arguments, I cannot name a reason as easily as taking a class. Perhaps it was simply my time away that made this possible. Nevertheless, I can now sum it up as research based on unusual arousal responses or patterns. Specifically, the Collinses suggest that sexual orientation or attraction is less about gender than it is about dominance or power. For example, straight women are typically attracted to more dominant men, but some women may be attracted to other women who display similar characteristics. I am being reductive, but the main point is that this book suggests another lens through which we can consider sexuality.
It’s not that the ideas presented in this book aren’t worth considering. What is sexual orientation? What if gender isn’t the only or even the most important component of sexual orientation? Sari van Anders, a respected researcher in the field, tackles this very idea in her sexual configurations theory (SCT), which encourages us to expand our view of sexuality past attraction based on gender and has been praised for its inclusiveness. However, van Anders has published peer-reviewed papers on the topic.
Nor would I argue that a book is never the right format to publish research. Dr. Justin Lehmiller, to name just one example, chose a book to write about his research into fantasies in more depth than a paper or even a series of papers might allow. However, the format doesn’t change the scholarly rigor readers would expect from his work. Collins and Collins fail to bring this rigor to their work.
Ultimately, The Pragmatist’s Guide to Sexuality doesn’t make sense as a book. The type of research and results are better suited for a blog post (or series thereof) and some infographics. This would also cut down on some of the redundancies–the research itself is repeated in a section at the end of the book that I personally found more compelling than most of the rest. A change in format would also remedy the problem of confusing organization. Why bother with longer chapters when a shorter post with headings will do, instead?
As far as I can tell, the best reason for publishing their research in a book is to profit directly rather than creating other Web content that might profit them through ads or content creation incentives. However, all proceeds from their books go to “the nonprofit,” which I assume means the Pragmatist Foundation (according to Amazon book descriptions). The website is similarly vague save for describing the Pragmatist “Foundation” that was designed to
- [C]reate “shepherd free” guides dedicated to assisting individuals in self reflection and challenging their core beliefs without biasing them to specific answers.
- [R]eview and conduct research with the goal of helping people engage in self reflection and seriously consider new ideas so that they can independently determine—for themselves— the best possible ideas and solutions to adopt.
- [C]reate a culture in which people are celebrated for exploring new and alternate ideas, engaging in critical self reflection, and intellectually engaging with the views of those who disagree with them.
Maybe Malcolm Collins just wants an excuse to ask questions and posit theories in a way that feels more grandiose than web content.
I suppose the foundation has accomplished at least some of the outlined goals with this book, which has, in some part, encouraged me to “consider new ideas.” I’m not entirely sure that anything about this book was personally pragmatic, however. What do I do with this suggestion? Some people might focus less on gender when seeking sexual partners, but I’m already bisexual, so perhaps I am not the target audience. I suspect that a more comprehensive theory like that under development by Sari van Anders might be more pragmatic for me specifically. In fact, Alex Iantaffi and Meg-John Barker have written a zine offering some questions for self-reflection, among other guidance based on SCT that I find more actionable at less than 20 pages.
Still, if you’re intrigued by The Pragmatist’s Guide to Sexuality, you can purchase the Kindle version for $2.99 (it’s free if you’re a Kindle Unlimited member). Amazon also carries hard and softcover versions of the book, although I’m not sure the higher price tag is warranted.
