Fans pick 100 books like This is Pleasure

Dolores Haze is an oft-misrepresented character. I dislike the way Lolita is usually portrayed in a coquettish manner. I find Lolita to be one of the most tragic heroines in classic literature. This child is a manipulated and abused victim of a perverted narrator. Her mother is deeply complicated, too.

I love the complexity of all the characters and how their story arc evolves as the power dynamic shifts. It’s entertaining but also brings up disgust and concern for the heroine. I find myself rooting for her and hating the slimy narrator while at the same time appreciating Nabakov’s ability to build such fleshed-out characters and give us such a window into their minds.

A nonfiction book that tells the story of three unrelated women and their unique but universal struggles; I loved it because of the author’s incredible talent for articulating the everyday lived experience of being female, the subtle and overt judgments, and the fact that women are held to different standards, even by other women.

"‘Even when women fight back, they must do it correctly. They must cry the right amount and look pretty but not hot." Many times while reading, I recognised myself, my sister, my mother, and my friends.

All three stories are highly engaging, but the truly compelling story is Maggie’s, a troubled girl from a difficult family who is preyed upon by her teacher, a married man with a family. The subsequent effect on her life is just devastating (remember, folks: this is nonfiction.)

My Dark Vanessa is a highly compelling, if disturbing read. I loved the book as I related so closely to the idealistic fifteen-year-old Vanessa, who is groomed by her English teacher, Jacob Strane, believing him to be the love of her life.

The book opens to Vanessa at thirty-two, leading a lonely and unfulfilling life in a dead-end job at the beginning of the #MeToo era, when other girls come forward to accuse Strane. She finds herself torn: how can she do anything but defend him? Otherwise, she would have to admit to herself that their great love has been a great lie.

I’ve never read anything remotely like this book.

It’s a painfully difficult but beautifully poetic read about an Irish girl from a miserably dysfunctional family with a difficult, abusive, ranting mother and a disabled older brother. After she is sexually abused by her uncle, the girl allows herself to be used by the boys at school and begins a series of loveless encounters, as if determined to prove how worthless she is. At college, she continues her career of joyless, destructive promiscuity.

The book is steeped in guilt and shame, redeemed only by the depictions of pure love she has for her brother. Like a poem or a lyrical poetry performance, the novel does truly incredible things with language.

I'd read mixed reviews but read Devil's Demise with an open mind. I thought it was brilliant! I could imagine each scene in great detail, it kept me frantically turning the pages, and I loved the believable Edinburgh cop camaraderie. The book is very graphic with intense scenes of sex, rape, and violence but it didn't faze me, if anything it made it more realistic albeit disturbing. This one does come with trigger warnings for the reasons above.

I always say that you never know what goes on behind someone else’s closed door. How they appear physically and/or mentally in public doesn’t tell their whole story. It’s like social media. We only share the good parts of our lives. Everyone has secrets and fears and reasons they keep parts of their lives to themselves. The Way I Used to Be is a perfect example of why we should never judge a person without knowing them and why we should take the time to get to know a person, pay attention to changes in personality, and let them know you are a friend. We are all guilty of not taking the time and this book is a reminder to myself that I must be better than that.

I can easily relate to the two female main characters who face life-threatening danger in performing their work and gender bias among coworkers. Despite it, they succeed. During my recovery, my counselors impressed upon me that women should build supportive partnerships with other women. It's not only constructive but very empowering. Together, like the characters in this book, we can build the careers we envision, and achieve rhe recognition we deserve.

I ordered the book because the author was described as intelligent, honest, and hopeful. She had to be hopeful; I knew that from experience. She waited 30 years for her story to receive widespread attention. Mine remained archived for 20. For both of us, society had to evolve enough to address the subject in a meaningful way. Like me, she reveals the stigmas and assumptions about the crime and its victims that make recovery such a challenge. 

This 1975 feminist discussion really opened my eyes when I was a young scholar to how pervasive rape is all over the world. 

Brownmiller discusses rape during war, during pogroms, and during persecutions of various kinds. She focuses on sexual violence against Blacks during slavery, and against American “Indians,” as they were then called.

She also discusses prison rape and sexual violence against children. She investigates the literature on the psychology both of rapists, and of victims of rape. Although much has changed since 1975, this is a classic that anyone interested in the history of feminism, or the history of rape, should read.  

Michelle Bowdler’s piercing question pinpoints the hypocrisy of laws that often favor abusers rather than those they harm. This happens so routinely that survivors speak of two assaults: the abuse itself and the revictimization as they seek justice.

Bowdler was the victim of a serial rapist in Boston whose break-ins and assaults terrorized the city. After Bowdler reported the attack, she was assured that the crime would be investigated. Nothing of the sort happened. Is Rape a Crime? pulls back the curtain on how sexual assault victims are treated by law enforcement and concludes with a powerful demand for change.