From my experiences with Ayzad’s books, I would struggle to adequately do him justice as an author. I jumped into the deep end with the first book I read by him BDSM: A Guide for Explorers of Extreme Eroticism that’s an encyclopedic wealth of information for those who are really into BDSM and knowledge in general. But that tome would be intimidating for someone who either isn’t sure about their interest or even the topic in general. Ayzad’s newest book, I Love BDSM falls on the other end of the spectrum. Ayzad kept this book fairly brief at just 124 pages, some of which include photos or illustrations, and his adoration for BDSM shines through. Both of these things make the book approachable. Further lending to the accessibility is the conversational tone he uses.

While other books teach technical skills, and BDSM: A Guide for Explorers of Extreme Eroticism is certainly one of them, I Love BDSM focuses more on how BDSM can be personally fulfilling and rewarding within relationships. That angle can be appealing to those who might be dipping a toe in the water and wondering why they are–or anyone else is–attracted to the idea of erotic power exchange. I think the bold title of this book and the tone Ayzad uses in it both emphasize that BDSM can be a positive in someone’s life.

It’s reasonable that someone who first stumbles upon BDSM through Fifty Shades of Grey or some other media that’s not entirely realistic might decide to further research and happen upon I Love BDSM. For this, this book is a great introduction, not just for the aforementioned reasons but for the way it spells out the definition of BDSM while emphasizing that the images some people conjure of BDSM are devoid of context or downright wrong. Ayzad makes a poignant argument that the same happens with vanilla sex all the time, and we should be wary not to do the same with BDSM. As he says,

The only trick is to remember that the basis of any relationship – even the most casual ones – is always people.

While not about technical skills, I Love BDSM does not gloss over the potential risks and need to proceed safely. It discusses negotiation and safe words, for example.  But this section, like all of them in the book, is short, and I worry that some might read only this book and think it’s enough before diving in fully. This isn’t to say anything against Ayzad or his book; some people just always bite off more than they can chew.

After safety, the book includes a section on finding partners both online and off before dedicating a chapter each to bondage, domination and discipline, submission, and sensory exploration. Ayzad opted to move away from “sadism” and “masochism” for this book. I think the effect may be more inviting and less intimidating for someone who is unfamiliar with BDSM, and it’s actually a great descriptor for many activities enjoyed by kinksters. Still, it did throw me for a loop to see the acronym changed up.

Each chapter includes brief descriptions of the people, tools, and skills that might be involved in the specific activity. For example, Ayzard illustrates basic ties in the chapter on bondage and the desired traits of a submissive in that respective chapter. It’s all enough to give an idea and perhaps leave the reader wanting more without droning on. By the time I Love BDSM nears completion, Ayzad assumes that the reader will be ready to try their first not-super-intense scene. Presumably, the reader has gotten that far and feels the same, even if they’re not sure whether this whole BDSM thing is for them.

By now, it might be apparent that I struggled to read this book as someone who might just be coming to terms with the idea of BDSM or their interest in it. I want something meatier, with more science (Ayzad hasn’t ignored research on BDSM; it’s just scant). I Love BDSM isn’t that book but, of course, it’s not intended to be. This is the book that you read before you set out to engage in BDSM in your relationship or local community. You might (read: should) pick up a few more books before you get to that point. And if you stick with it, you might eventually find more Ayzad books on your proverbial shelf.

I’ve also considered how this BDSM primer stands out from other similar books. As Kinky as You Wanna Be: Your Guide to Safe, Sane and Smart BDSM comes to mind; although, these two are far from the only examples in the genre. One way in which Ayzad makes a name for himself is through his real-life experience as a BDSM practitioner and a member–and leader–of his local community. It can seem a little old-school when so much information is available for free online that one doesn’t necessarily need to seek out community to learn.

But Ayzad reminds the reader that not all of that information is accurate. Community can provide safety and hands-on knowledge that would otherwise be missed. Whether someone lives in a city with a thriving community or, like myself, would need to travel for hours to find one, certainly impacts how applicable certain information is, of course.

Another notable difference is the inclusion of black-and-white photos. I could go either way on them, but it probably lends to the air of approachability that Ayzad was going for. The illustrations of different knots/ties are useful, however, but the links to Ayzad’s videos are even more useful. This brings me to my next point.

I Love BDSM feels like it’s only meant to be a digital book. Some passages are highlighted in pink that matches the heart on the cover. Furthermore, Ayzad includes links to other resources, including illustrative videos and articles on his website. This puts additional information at the reader’s fingertips, but I would have preferred footnotes or a list, which would make it easier to see them all at a glance at the end of the book. The link icons make the book a bit messier than I prefer, and you might not realize how helpful they are if you focus on reading rather than clicking them.

Similarly, while Ayzad links to a section of recommended books on his site, I would have found it easier for him to list a few in I Love BDSM.

Finally, because so many of the links go to Ayzad’s own website, it feels a little self-promotional. Of course, there are many helpful articles, and it’s one way to ensure the links remain relevant, but I can’t but wonder if it could have been done differently. Something just a bit more refined or including some other resources, perhaps?

So where does that leave us? I Love BDSM would be ideal for someone who has never read any books about BDSM, but they should remember to broaden their educational horizons beyond this one title (and that’s true for anyone interested in BDSM). It’s a good introduction but less useful as a resource for those who are more knowledgeable and experienced unless they want an easy read to recommend to newbies.

There isn’t much to lose by purchasing this book, however.  Even if it doesn’t introduce much new content, I Love BDSM costs less than $6 on Amazon.

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Categories: Books

Going back to school has left me with little time for leisure reading. I anticipated that hobbies such as video games would take a back seat, but I’ve been such an avid reader over the last few years that I didn’t see it coming. But with as much reading as I have to do for my classes, I haven’t wanted to do much else of it.

Fortunately, my second semester has provided me a bit more time to read for pleasure. Even more fortunately for me, my to-review shelf includes some very interesting books. To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before is no exception, but let me back up.

A lot of books about sex–or containing the word in the title–come across my radar. Sometimes I’m browsing publisher sites or upcoming lists on Amazon. Other times, pitches land in my inbox. To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before was one of the former, but it makes no difference when it comes to reading and reviewing. Either I like a book for its merits, whatever form they come in, and I recommend it to others… or not.

The sheer number of titles I look at means that they sometimes blend together or I forget the description of a particular book. That, sadly, was the case with To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before. I’m not sure if I did my research thoroughly enough in the first place to forget the facts about this book. I don’t know if I stumbled across Laux, the author’s, IndieGogo page that shows not only how Laux was intrepid enough to publish her book on her own but that the book is about Black sexual liberation. Or I might have landed on Laux’s website wherein she describes herself as a Black, womanist, sex-positive author who tells the truth.

So I was a bit surprised when I finally dove in, but pleasantly so.

And I feel like I need a disclaimer here. I am only some of those things. Notably, I am white, and this colors so many of my experiences. It also makes me wonder if I can accurately describe the depth of this book to readers who may be Black or non-white. It may be that focus on the top notes and miss the mid-notes. If anything, however, this is an argument that To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before is an even better read than I am capable of recommending.

Laux herself does a good job of explaining just what the reader is in for in her introduction. She’s loud and proud as a Black woman who loves sex but who hasn’t always had the words or opportunity to talk about it. It’s prevented her from being as sexually free and potentially safe or satisfied as she could have been. In these pages, Laux addresses the myriad places where she’s had sex before, coming to terms with her past and sexuality, and creating a stronger foundation for a future that is sexually free.

Each chapter is not like you might argue this review is, a love letter to those places. No, Laux is more honest, more raw, than that. Some of those experiences are negative. They toe the line of consent or even step right over it. To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before might be difficult for some people to read. For them, I may not recommend it, but it remains important for those who do have that capacity.

As for me, I was captivated right from the beginning. Laux leads us on a journey. City by city, she recounts the places she’s had sex. Foam parties, public bathrooms, and parks, just to name a few. She is at once a party girl and sexually liberated woman who makes me envious in comparison. But as Laux moves between Michigan, New York, back to Michigan, and Washington, D.C., she takes the reader with her, and we come to understand the parts of herself she hid while she was overexposed. The commentary to each place at the end of the chapter makes it easier to understand now just who Laux was then, but who she is now and who she may become.

Now, Laux and I may not be the same people, far from it. Yet while I cannot ever understand what it means to be a Black woman who is simultaneously expected to allow others access to and shunned for embracing her sexuality and body, I still saw glimpses of myself between the covers of this book. When Laux discusses boundaries or her fear of rejection, I feel a lump welling in my throat. Maybe we’re not so different after all.

There are certainly people who may not be impacted similarly as To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before. There are those who may not be sex-positive or womanist or who do not see the impact of race. More importantly, I think there are some people who will not be able to draw parallels because, fortunately for them, their experiences differed. I would still encourage them to give this book a try.

But for the majority of people, there’s something… universally human about To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before and the way that Laux wrote is that is reassuring and invaluable (if you agree, you can submit your own story on her site). I can only hope the process of writing it was invaluable to her.

Psst, Laux sells autographed physical copies of her book, and you should totally check it out!

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Categories: Books