[Header Image Description: The Juliette Society by Sasha Grey, a book with a light blue cover with a closed eye on it, lying on wooden floorboards, next to a red leather collar.]
Most of the time, I know exactly how I feel about a book when I finish it. I’m usually very decisive about what I do and do not like with regards to literature, but The Juliette Society has me thrown. It’s such a simple concept, when you think about it, but it’s quite a complex story. There are some truly beautiful pieces of writing, but also some sections that confuse me.
The Juliette Society tells the story of Catherine, a film major, who, through a new friend, a sordid story, and the film Belle du Jour, discovers new, “darker” sexual desires. Her friend Anna takes her to a series of sex parties, eventually ending up at a party of the Juliette Society, an exclusive society where the world’s elite come to fuck. The Juliette Society actually doesn’t play a huge role in the book until the end, so the blurb is a little misleading. The story is peppered with references to classic films, which not only provide insight into Catherine’s personality through her film tastes, but also provide some interesting parallels to what happens in the book.
What really drew me into The Juliette Society were the characters. Early on, we are told about one of the first things Catherine learnt in film class, which is that “plot is subservient to character”. Catherine is well fleshed out, and the reader understands her motives and thought processes. She says towards the end that she is a very decisive person, and because of everything she has done in the lead up to that moment, you believe her. She’s no Anastasia Steele, because although she doesn’t know much about the world of BDSM, she is a sexual person and seeks out her kicks on her own. Her friend Anna is just as interesting, and the insights into her sexuality are some of my favourite parts of the book. However, she is still shrouded in mystery, even until the very end.
“I suddenly realize I don’t really know [Anna]. I know so little about who she is, or where she comes from. I only know what she’s told me and what she means to me.”
Other characters, like Bundy, Anna’s sleazy acquaintance who tries to get Catherine to snort coke off his dick for his website, and Kubrik, the owner of the sex club they first visit, are also richly depicted. Bundy especially is a weasely yet pathetic character, and everything from the pile of take away containers in his apartment to the donut tattoo under his eye set up that fact. However, the one character that I can’t get behind is Jack, Catherine’s boyfriend. All we know about him is that he likes politics and works a lot, but other than that, he is almost devoid of personality. Catherine spends a lot of time saying that she loves him and that she wants to spend the rest of her life with him, but that is very hard to believe because they have absolutely no chemistry together. Granted, I could be missing the mark entirely, and this could be a conscious decision on Sasha Grey’s part, but I don’t see much evidence of that throughout the plot.
The language in this book is another thing that has me a little undecided. Some of the similes are very cliché – stuff like “horny as hell” – and it feels like lazy writing to me. Another thing that puts me off is that sometimes Catherine doesn’t speak in inverted commas: “And this is just foreplay, I ask.” This is used so that Catherine’s speech doesn’t detract from what other characters are saying, but it is a technique that I find really distracting. However, then there are other parts that are strikingly beautiful. By far my favourite part of the book is the when Anna is explaining the concept of “fuck bruises” to Catherine, and she starts off by explaining the mating patterns of bees. “‘When he puts his penis in the queen, it turns inside out,’ she says. ‘And when he comes it’s like a firework going off. It’s so explosive that it rips his cock off and sends him flying.’ […] When the boy bee dies, its castrated penis stays stuck half-in and half-out of the queen’s vagina, like a cork in a half-drunk bottle of wine, as a cue for other boy bees to impregnate her – like a mating sign. ‘That’s what these are,’ Anna says, as she rubs hard hand slowly over the bruises on her arm again.” There’s something so well crafted about that analogy, where a seeming non sequitur wraps up neatly once you understand the purpose of it.
The structure of the novel feels a bit loose at first. Time passes very jerkily, like when Catherine and Anna meet in one chapter, and then the next time they speak, they are best friends. This could be to get rid of dead space between important events, but when so much time passes in the first four chapters of the book, it feels a bit disorienting. It also jumps from place to place, with entire chapters consisting of a long train of thought. However, these monologues often foreshadow what happens in the next chapter, but it took a little while for that to become apparent. The only qualm I have about the plot is that the ending is rather confusing, and there isn’t any closure. A lot of the book is description of fantasy, so it’s hard to tell whether the ending is something that actually happened, or a dream. I hope the next book in the series, The Janus Chamber, will explain this.
And finally, how is the sex? There is a lot less than I expected, and it’s a lot shorter. Most of the sex is fantasy, which I feel is more realistic than someone constantly having new and exciting sex. The fantasy is hot, and adds to the story well, which I like. There’s a progression of Catherine’s fantasies throughout the book, rather than just being shoehorned in. The first real sex scene has an air of non consent, which put me off. Catherine says “And I’m not seeking his permission. I’m not asking, I’m telling. I’m not begging, I’m taking. And he doesn’t have a choice.” and even though she stops when her boyfriend says no, it still doesn’t feel right. Other sex scenes, like the ones in the clubs, also feel non consenty, so if that’s something that bothers you, maybe The Juliette Society isn’t the book for you. One of the best sex scenes in the book is the penultimate one. It’s longer than the other scenes, and reflects what I like in porn – playful, affectionate, and mutually enjoyable sex. It is a marked departure from the gritty atmosphere of the rest of the book, and as such it feels a bit out of place. However, it does give a nice bit of closure to the storyline between Catherine and Jack. There isn’t really much sex after that, actually, as the book reaches its climax. I was a bit confused by this, but was glad that the story managed to stand up on its own without sex pushing it along. Overall, it’s obvious that the sex is written by someone who knows a lot about the mechanics of sex, both on and off screen, and it’s written with a wonderfully unique authorial voice.
I think The Juliette Society is an enjoyable read. I finished it in three days, as I’ve said, and I wasn’t bored or annoyed by it at any point. It’s certainly an erotic novel, but I wouldn’t class it as erotica. The sex is an addition to the plot and character development, which I enjoyed. If you love sex and don’t hate a bit of mystery, I would recommend trying this book, but if you just want something to jerk off to, maybe steer clear. While The Juliette Society does have moments of first-novelitis with its sometimes clumsy language, it does pick up as the story unfolds, so if you can stick it through the first three or so chapters, I think you’re in for a good read.
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