Non-Fiction (?): The Happy Hooker

(Xaviera Hollander, 1973, Dell Publishing Co.)

Another thrift store bookshelf staple, a long out of print relic from the past which made big, big waves when it first came out and went through numerous printings—17 between its first release in February 1972 and this copy printing in May 1973—but which has aged rather badly, though perhaps not quiet as badly that late 1960’s fictional account of the life of stewardesses, Coffee, Tea or Me, to which Hollander’s book shares many similarities in writing style, humor and illiberal “liberal” attitude. Most women probably don’t even know or remember who she is, while most men probably know or remember Xaviera only as the (former) progressive, hedonistic advice columnist from Penthouse, always ready with a racy sex story related to the question. Since her deportation years ago and gradual disappearance from any headlines but for the occasional supermarket tabloid’s, few Americans have probably ever actually read this book or any of the other myriad of straight-to-paperbacks she has written. Not to say that this book isn’t an entertainingly sleazy read, providing one merely skims most of the books last third. Oddly enough, from today’s point of view, in The Happy Hooker, Xaviera, possibly excepting her willingness to screw a dog and her dead-on-the-head-of-the-nail attitude about prostitution as a viable economic choice and phenomenon that will never go away, comes across not only somewhat conservative, but both judgmental and slightly messed up as well.
Much of what she writes seems questionable at best, sometimes in terms of its truth, other times in terms of its message. Her Daddy may have been a great guy, and walking around the house naked is normal, but doing so with a hard-on reeks of something other than fatherly love or actual fact—especially if her mother was the type to tell her to save her virginity for when she gets married. Likewise, not only does her description of nudist camps as fuck happy bacchanalian places to swing contradict my personal experience of rolling green acres decked out mostly with old, sagging or flabby flesh, but her claims that many a bored Westchester housewife earn pocket money and add a little excitement to their lives by working as a prostitute seems more sensationalist than realistic, especially when one considers that it must be their husbands who keep prostitutes hard at work (which, in turn, would mean that that hubby and wife’s paths must eventually cross). And if she really did get around to regularly porking her sister’s husband down in South Africa after deciding that the dog wasn’t enough, would she really stop the affair so her sister doesn’t figure it out, only to publish it some years later in a guaranteed best seller for the whole world to read? And let’s not even get into discussing her version of the events that led up to her getting busted, for surely, as she says, she never, ever, ever tried on her own to bribe any NYC cops into letting her run her business undisturbed.
Amongst the more glaring signs of how badly this book has aged is the ease in which she drops the derogatory “fag“ and even tries to lend substance to the absurd, unrealistic idea that “fags“ can be “cured“ by a good fuck with a good woman like her. In turn, it is also oddly disconcerting that a swinging, bisexual, nymphomaniac, hedonistic hooker that is not only willing to fuck a dog but also admits to having a special kink for popping the cherries of virgin teenagers (where was she when I was growing up?) should heap such a large amount of judgmental, derogatory slag upon kinky people whose fetishes are as inane as cross dressing, water sports, B&D, S&M and so forth. (Okay, maybe the concept of Hot Chocolate is sickening, but if one doesn’t forcefully hurt others, what they do is their thing.)
Probably the most factual aspect of The Happy Hooker is its presentation of men as being, for the most part, assholes who have little or no respect for women. But then, Hollander seems to have a fable for abusive relationships, for both her two big loves did little more than use her, abuse her, disrespect her and toss her aside.... interestingly enough, she in turn herself does all but the last to her (at the time) present boyfriend Larry, the first man in her book that actually seems to care for her. But then, unlike her other relationships of importance, he doesn’t have a big dick.
All in all The Happy Hooker is entertaining enough, with more than one salacious sex scene and a few interesting points. Regrettably, not only does it does get dull and repetitious after the first two thirds, but Hollander’s naiveté verges so much on being criminal, if not simply unbelievable, that after a while, she loses all sympathy of the reader. A little more common sense, self-insight and self-criticism wouldn’t hurt her. As it is, the book leaves a slightly distasteful aftertaste, much like a drinkable cheap wine beginning to go to vinegar.
Update: So where is she now? Try her website and find out. She done good for herself–all the power to her. Still, I wonder if she still thinks “fags” can be cured by a good hetro fuck. Many of her books have been updated and rereleased, including this one.
Images (all found on-line), top to bottom:
The cover of the recent printing.
An image of Xaviera being measured for a new bra.
Xaviera today, heavier but happy as always.
A photo collage of photos of Xaviera – the smaller black and white inserted one was taken from Earl Wilson’s non-scandalous book Show Business Laid Bare (Signet, 1974), in which she is incorrectly referred to as “Scandinavian”.