[ed. If anyone screams misogyny at this review I am going to scream and pull out half my beard, just read the bloody book; it’s tedious to anyone with an adult attention span. Also if anyone screams hypocritical prudery, I’ll tear out the rest of my beard and fling it at them. I’m not a prude, I just have standards. roftl…]
“The Last Living Slut: Born in Iran, Bred Backstage” is an autobiography, perhaps ghost-written (by Neil Straus a.k.a. Style one suspects) of an Iranian born rock groupie who in a deliberate rebellion against the patriarchal misogyny she perceived in her upbringing decided to become a Motley Crue and Guns and Roses cum receptacle, thus joining a legion of bleached blond young American neo-jawariya [*harem slave-girls, see note], from trailer parks and suburbs all across America.
Reading it, I thought to myself:
“I bleed for this?”
And indeed my heart wept tears of blood, in utter boredom, as I struggled to force myself to read Roxana Shirazi multimedia personal anthem of slut autonomy (multimedia, being of text, not so sexy photos of the author in slut drag, and several noxious fumes of donkey punched, scat spread, fluid bespeckled glory, wafting up from the book. One could virtually smell the sweat and feet.)
Slut autonomy – empowerment through sexual promiscuity. I am always a little suspicious of people who have something to prove through their sexuality, especially a social or political ideology, beyond a simple, and natural, “this feels really good, and I feel compelled to do it, so hence I do it.” Aught beyond this becomes somewhat contrived.
Since the author self identifies as a slut, as her personal badge of honor, we do not insult her by calling so, and thus let us continue.
The author is a groupie, sort of like Kat Stacks, though perhaps with less taste and less honesty. Kat Stacks and others like her admit that they are essentially tricking. Though Shirazi, through her book, certainly stands to make far more money than Stacks, and one can argue that Shirazi is certainly more attractive than Stacks (though without makeup this may be debatable)
Groupies are the courtesans and concubines of our age, not quite kept women, but rather shared women, among a wealthy and – somewhat – powerful though dissolute strata of wealthy and dominant Alpha males. Remember that in history nothing really changes except the names, and the neat toys we play with. Groupie drama is fairly equivalent to concubine drama in every age that we have record of [*see my note below]
I often find that people who base a good deal of their personal identity on their sexuality are intensely boring.
Such people, with a few exceptions, are often not truly very sexy, beyond a superficial show of sexuality. There are also exceptions, I’ve met a few very interesting complex and nuanced people whose primary pride and identification in life was being a slut, but I doubt the author would be one of them. I have no doubt Shirazi would protest over-much on this point, but I’ll let the reader decided from reading her book. I personally found nothing sexy about it.
The author’s greatest pride and achievement lies in emulating a groupie lifestyle mostly aspired to, in America, by girls coming from the lowest rungs of the social ladder. I mean, Biker girls typically emerge from lower social strata, but rock groupies aren’t exactly that high up on the rung. Being a shared woman amongst Alpha male rock stars is a more socially acceptable achievement than being a shared woman amongst Alpha male bikers, or street criminals, but here Baudrillard ‘s Simulacrum comes into play since Rock Stars are faux biker and outlaw rebels, and biker outlaw rebels are faux pirates and brigands, and hence their groupies are ultimately faux camp followers.
I’m sure Mongol camp wenches in Genghis Khan’s camps could out fuck Roxana Shirazi and her peers, but need we consider this much further?
This book was an immense disappointment, and consisted of page after page of somewhat poorly edited vignettes of the author’s personal debauchery fueled by a glamorized Rock & Roll lifestyle, and presented as a bombastic middle finger raised in defiant anthem against the conservative, and found by her highly stifling, moral and gender values of her native Iran.
About as puerile as flinging a bloody tampon at the Ayatollah in defiance. Wow, “you go girl…”
Hell hath no fury like a libertine who is hell bent on proving that she is a libertine. Beneath the blood, excreta, semen, broken hearts, donkey punched violent coitus, S & M, multiple swords in a single sheath, one simply has to roll one’s eyes and wonder
“Do you actually get off on this or is it all just some sort of bizarre compulsion?”
The book is as slickly presented and packaged as, and somehow manages to be even more vapid than, Neil Straus’s “The Game”- I allude and suspect that he ghost wrote it anyway. Personally I found his Jenna Jameson biography to be more interesting reading.
I would be lying if I said there were not a few incidents of amusement, and perhaps of mildly titillating value, but over-all there isn’t much here folks. Again, the book was a let-down
[* nb, the literary educated might notice my snarky usage of the term jawariya, and perhaps complain that my comparing Roxana to a harem slave girl is inappropriate, because her sexuality is consensual and freely chosen and hence empowering.
It bears noting that jariya girls in the middle east were typically free to choose lovers of their choice, this becomes very apparent when reading the literature of the period in depth. Jariyas were not necessarily forced to serve as their master’s concubines, rather they could and would switch master by request, deny their favors to masters they disliked, and typically seemed to act with the drama of their modern hip-hop equivalent and actually suffered few social restrictions, other than being technically slaves.
Slave classes in that era were fairly well equivalent to the modern working class, in terms of autonomy and legal rights, they could and did often own property, leave endowments, inherit, maintain their own businesses, and apart from the legal status of being legally owned really would appear free to most modern observers. There are exceptions in history, but it bears mentioning that in the medieval middle east some slaves were wealthier, and indeed more powerful, than free citizens. Unlike in the West, where typically slaves did not end up ruling nations, or forming the elite managerial class of such states (see Mamluke Egypt and the Ottoman empire, where the Janissaries formed an elite administrative strata)
Qiyan girls were able to acquire great prestige and wealth in much the same way that modern high class prostitutes are able to. Comparing Roxana Shirazi to a Jariya would no doubt insult most Jawariya, in the sense that comparing an alley cat dragged from underneath a rutting tomcat boinking and caterwauling in an alleyway, to a well maintained house cat, could well irk the house cat;
“You compare her to me? Just… look at her?!?”
Among groupies too, there is a hierarchy.
Women have a fine and refined sense of relative comparisons between themselves and fury awaits the man insensitive to their multiple status markers…
I refer the diligent reader to al-Jahiz’s Kitab al Qiyan – the Book of Singing Girls. Reading it one notices that the differences between today and yesterday are far fewer than one would imagine…]