Fluently written, intelligent and super kinky.
The Museum of Deviant Desires was a real pleasure to read.
Fulani knows his stuff, whether that’s 1950s pulp magazines or the right choice
of whip. And he doesn’t keep you waiting for the kinky stuff only for you to
find it’s some fluffy handcuffs and a blindfold. It’s full-on throughout with a well-stocked dungeon-full of BDSM hardware as well as some more sensual,
psychological D/s scenarios. There’s a fantastically twisted imagination behind
it too, with the scenes and references delightfully fresh and free of
stereotypes but offering plenty of fodder for the perverse of mind.
I looked up some of the stranger references, out of
curiosity, but even when they weren’t familiar to me, Fulani has a knack with
description and imagery that brings them alive. There’s a densely packed
richness to the stories. And he uses big
words. Complicated words like chthonic. The stories were often about the act of
writing itself, so they are self-referencing, explicit about their existence as
works of erotica as well as a set of imaginary places and events in the author
or reader’s mind. These particular stories run on two tracks at once, which
adds an extra layer for reflection and a way into discussion of the psychology
of desire, while somehow managing not to detract from the reader’s absorption
into the worlds they create.
I’m often ill at ease with stories of people indulging in
bondage with strangers, especially when they happen to be women whom the author,
in his or her wisdom, decides to imbue with feelings of low self-esteem, or
anxiety, or nauseating naivety. Some of Fulani’s tales do involve women
submitting to all kinds of risky shenanigans with strangers. But somehow, in this
particular suspension of my disbelief, it feels acceptable. I think it’s the
absence of fear on the submissive characters’ behalf and the utter reasonable
nice-guy-ness of the dominants. No one’s having to be persuaded, in that
terribly overdone way, to do anything they’re not comfortable with, thank
goodness. (Although comfortable may be a poor choice of word here!) This is not
so much kinky reading for the titillation of the mostly vanilla; it’s more like
a fabulously perverse version of romance in a world in which kink is the
normative framework of experience.
Dare I say it, in this age of speed reading, instant gratification
and the eBook?... I liked the fact that some of the pieces were really short
flash fiction. I kept thinking ‘just one more story’ and before I knew it I’d
finished the lot and it was way past my bedtime.
Oh, and there’s a sense of humour too. Particularly in ‘$2.99’,
the tale of an author’s revenge on a pirate downloader – the only story which
involves someone who could actually be termed a ‘victim’, but hey, anyone who
downloads pirate copies of books deserves it.
Addicted to Rope
The ‘bondage with strangers’ issue is back, big time, in
this novella by Fulani. And in this case there is an element of it being new to
the heroine and her having to be persuaded. But she persuades herself with very
little effort on the part of our friendly neighbourhood Dom, Leo. And Leo seems
like such a nice, genuine guy. I suppose the successful serial killers are
probably the ones who manage to convincingly pull off the nice-guy act too. Oh
well, I guess I must have double standards in my reading depending on the
quality of the writing and the fickle nature of my whim. I finished Addicted to
Rope in one sitting and immediately downloaded more of Fulani’s books. Legally.
I bought The Museum of Deviant Desires and Addicted to Rope at Amazon.co.uk.
