Received to review.
Reviewing this book publicly feels kind of awkward, because I know the fact that I’ve read it is likely to make people ask questions right away. The temptation with something like this is pretty inevitably going to be asking me why I’m interested, to what extent it might align with my own experiences, etc.
To dispose of that in a single paragraph: I have no interest in sex for physical gratification. I do have a partner, and whatever we may do is between the two of us and no one else’s business. Certainly I’ve had some of the experiences mentioned in this book: wondering what is “wrong” with me that I’m not interested, being told that my disinterest can be “fixed” (sometimes quite forcefully), being told that it’s down to my medication/mental illness, etc.
So, to the extent that any single person can identify with a book about a broad issue, this book is “about me”. If you’re now feeling curious about all this, I would ask you first not to ask me questions but to read this book and the book I’m currently reviewing. Then, maybe, we can talk.
Speaking more generally, this is a pretty awesome book for acknowledging the sheer breadth of human experience. It acknowledges all sorts of levels of interest in sex and romance, all sorts of orientations on the spectrum of attraction. I know one of my friends who identifies as demisexual also found this a useful resource. It can be a means of finding information, whether you’re asexual or not; it can also be a means of finding validation, of finding a measured and sensible voice telling you that there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re not strange, there are people out there like you.
The problem is that people who are opposed to the idea right away probably won’t read this, or if they do won’t be convinced by it; that’s definitely not the book’s fault, just that issue that people much prefer things that confirm their pre-existing bias. It’s worth trying, though — you never know what’s going to get through and change someone’s mind, even your own mind.