My book Glamour Girls part of "grotesque carnival of today's academy"

I just found out about this thanks to a reader - will post a proper reply when I have a chance, but for now, there's this lovely bit of vitriol about my book. Because, I mean, the horror of college students reading dirty stories! See also the Haworth page for Glamour Girls, or check it out on Amazon. It's ironic because pretty much nobody bought this book except, I guess, university libraries. I blame the cover, because trust me, the inside is HOT. I thought my story from the book, "Lap Dance Lust," was on my site - will get it up ASAP, it's one of my favorites ever. You can read A.J. Stone's hot sex in the back of a New York taxicab story "If You Can Make It There, You Can Make It Anywhere" right here. I will also say that the book was a Lambda Literary Award finalist in the lesbian erotica category, and that Haworth isn't (wasn't?) a "fly-by-night press," as far as my definition goes. Obscure, perhaps, but not "fly-by-night." Also, I'm a graduate of a UC school (Berkeley), and I also know Glamour Girls is in some public libraries. They're libraries; they are there to cater to a wide group of people who have varied reading interests. Yes, even at public universities. I wonder what Ms. MacDonald would think if any UC schools ordered something like He's on Top or She's on Top? Not that they have, as far as I know, but maybe I should personally send UC Irvine some of my latest work. I'm sure there are some students who'd be interested.

From Heather MacDonald's, "America's Flaw-- Or Alan Bloom's?" in New Criterion

The university of 1987, when Allan Bloom’s The Closing of the American Mind appeared, looks like a cloister of humane learning compared with the grotesque carnival of today’s academy. The course catalogues of major universities and publishing lists of major university presses furnish evidence aplenty. But for the moment one small example may suffice: a book I picked up by chance this August from a reshelving trolley in the University of California, Irvine’s library. It was Glamour Girls: Femme/Femme Erotica, a collection of lesbian smut put out by a fly-by-night press. A single page—the conclusion of a story by “Ana Slutsky Peril”—was as much as I could take, and it is not printable in this magazine. Suffice it to say that sado-masochistic sexual practices usually associated with the shadier reaches of the West Village turn the narrator into what she calls a “blind, dumb f**k doll.” The jacket blurbs from various erotica writers assert that the collection makes an important contribution to lesbian literature by presenting “femme/femme” (feminine lesbians) couplings instead of the usual “butch/femme” stereotype.

Glamour Girls is undoubtedly not what California’s taxpayers have in mind when they foot the bill for new university books, which a bright orange sticker on the spine cheerfully proclaimed Glamour Girls to be. Nor is it what Allan Bloom likely had in mind when he wrote of the “Eros” of learning. Heartbreakingly, a UC Irvine librarian had dutifully penciled catalogue classifications inside the cover, with all the orthographic care that one might lavish on a new edition of The Divine Comedy. Glamour Girls was not, alas, gathering dust in the stacks, as that new Divine Comedy likely would, but was clearly in use—whatever that means for a college book these days.