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<\/a><\/figure>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nWhat does a reader expect when picking up this book? Of course, that a prostitute will share insider stories\u2014the many anecdotes and tales of what goes on behind closed doors. And that\u2019s exactly what you get here. For me, that was the main appeal of the book and what made it entertaining. She writes about her first client, her first steps in another brothel (which she leaves again after a short time), and, of course, about the various stereotypes of clients one might expect. There\u2019s the family man who recently became a father for the first time and is now frustrated because nothing is happening at home; the shy, insecure client; or a doctor who is educated yet foolish enough to fall in love with a prostitute. Then there\u2019s the complete klutz who stands out through his lack of empathy, and the habitual brothel visitor who comes regularly, has spent a lot of money there over the years, and has developed personal relationships with almost all the women in the house. Toward the end of the book, the more unusual practices and preferences appear, as one would expect. So anyone wanting to learn about the workings of a brothel will find many insights here. However, they often come across as quite clich\u00e9d, and it\u2019s clear that the author also wants to meet the reader\u2019s expectations. What gets lost in this is the larger, more ordinary mass of encounters\u2014the men who go there, have a normal session, experience that physicality, and then go home again, much like one might go for a Thai massage. But of course, you can\u2019t really write a book about that.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
What is conveyed very well is the profession of prostitution itself\u2014and the fact that it is physically demanding work. When a woman accepts it as her normality and performs it regularly, it almost sounds like any other job in the service industry. The most taxing aspect of the work seems to be listening to all the different people and their chatter. The reader learns how nerve-racking it is to respond to so many types of clients and still remain friendly. That becomes quite clear\u2014the women need strong nerves.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
The author focuses heavily on her own experiences but also tries to cover a wider range. One chapter, for example, tells of a prostitute who privately meets a man she got to know online, to have sex with him\u2014an encounter that naturally differs from those in the brothel, mainly because of its voluntary nature rather than because of anything else. Another scene is told from the perspective of a client in love, who has to watch as the woman he regularly visits turns out to be in a committed relationship with another man. In another, a prostitute speaks in a broad Berlin dialect. All these episodes, however, only moderately convinced me, and it was obvious that Becker was describing fictional scenes born of her own imagination. This becomes especially clear when the Berlin prostitute suddenly compares someone to Moli\u00e8re\u2019s Doctor Diafoirus\u2014complete nonsense, since I doubt that 17th-century French literature belongs so much to the common reading of typical German prostitutes that its references have entered their everyday speech.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Becker also writes a little about street prostitution and the women who don\u2019t work in brothels but instead advertise themselves online. However, she stays very much on the surface, and it\u2019s apparent that she isn\u2019t writing from firsthand experience or insider knowledge. The \u201cLa Maison,\u201d the brothel that served as the model for the book, apparently stood out for its good working conditions, with an hourly rate of around 160 euros\u2014presumably not comparable to what goes on in other, less pleasant establishments. I couldn\u2019t help but think of a few Arte documentaries in which forced prostitution was a major topic, particularly in the context of the refugee crises of recent years. In contrast, everything in Becker\u2019s book reads smoothly and pleasantly\u2014so this likely represents only a small, privileged segment of a much broader and more troubling reality.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
The author tells her story through her protagonist, sharing impressions and conclusions, though these remain rather flat. Emma Becker appears well-read and does attempt interpretation, but little of it reached me. Her reflections are too diffuse, too unfocused, too emotionally tinted, and too closely tied to her own circumstances to yield anything universal or abstract. As expected, there is nothing profound here\u2014neither in the lives and work of the prostitutes nor in the author\u2019s musings. That\u2019s understandable\u2014it\u2019s clear what the topic is\u2014but still a bit disappointing. I would have liked to encounter a Marguerite Gautier with the refined soul of a F\u00e9licit\u00e9 des Touches\u2014or, conversely, a Diane de Maufrigneuse who appears as pure as the Virgin Mary but is, in truth, as corrupt as the devil himself.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I should add that I did not find the scenes in this book erotic, nor is that the goal. The aim is to create a portrait of this profession, not to convey eroticism. That much could already be inferred from the blurb.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Author Emma Becker was born in 1988, comes from a well-to-do family, studied literature at the Sorbonne, and moved to Berlin in 2013 after a failed relationship. There, she worked in a brothel for two years. In the novel, the narrator describes herself as 25 years old and works in the brothel to gather material for her book\u2014presumably as Becker herself did. It\u2019s not entirely clear which parts of the novel are fictional and which are autobiographical. Becker apparently did work in a brothel for two years, though likely not at the tender age of 25. According to Wikipedia, she first had a child and only afterward began working as a prostitute and writing the book. From what I\u2019ve read elsewhere, she altered the women and clients who inspired her so much that the real people behind them are no longer recognizable. Thus, the novel is classified as \u201cautofiction.\u201d<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
I found the narrator rather unsympathetic. She seems condescending and arrogant in places, especially when she elevates her own position at the end, pointing out society\u2019s false morality and her superiority to men. Some of that is true, but it\u2019s also old hat and felt misplaced. Her judgments and conclusions struck me as odd; a more balanced and nuanced picture would have felt more authentic. When she writes about the single mother who prostitutes herself to pay bills and feed her child, it doesn\u2019t sound entirely believable\u2014especially when a few chapters later she admits that the generous income and the appeal of consumption are strong motivations, not mere survival. Moreover, the narrator (and perhaps the author) doesn\u2019t place herself on equal footing with the other prostitutes, since she engages in the work only temporarily as research for her book. As one reads, however, it becomes clear that she enjoys the work, finds it fun, and that her libido is a major driver behind her \u201cresearch.\u201d I found that somewhat disingenuous. Combined with her scattered conclusions, the reader is presented with a very personally colored book\u2014which, while giving the text a certain charm, also makes it swing wildly between extremes, in a manner I found unprofessional and uncontrolled. The book could have been trimmed considerably without losing much, had these personal digressions been shortened.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
In terms of writing style, the book is plain. It employs everyday language, which fits the content but doesn\u2019t make it especially enjoyable to read. In several places, I found it decidedly too chatty.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
As for the physical edition, it\u2019s an ordinary paperback\u2014as mentioned, acquired unintentionally\u2014but perfectly fine for a light, entertaining read. I do find the cover very well done: it shows the author and captures the content wonderfully. The lush, flowing hair and the hinted neckline are quite attractive, yet the expression and the mouth seem forced and closed off. This reflects well the ambivalent relationship of the protagonist\u2014and probably of all women in this profession\u2014to their work.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n
Conclusion:<\/strong> The book leaves me with mixed feelings. I found it quite entertaining, especially the scenes behind closed doors and the various encounters with clients, as well as the insight into the prostitutes\u2019 daily lives. The atmospheric sketches Becker draws of the places and people show empathy and a sense for mood. Her personal, emotionally tinted reflections, however, I found too long-winded, unfocused, diffuse, and verbose. As expected, there is nothing profound or surprising in these tales from a brothel, and that\u2019s reflected in the simple, everyday language. Becker does attempt a broader view, giving the text some variety through different episodes, but overall it delivers exactly what one would expect from such a book. It\u2019s an entertaining read; I enjoyed it and was never bored. Perhaps something for the beach\u2014something diverting\u2014but certainly not a great literary achievement.<\/p>\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n Book information:<\/strong> La Maison \u2022 Emma Becker \u2022 Rowohlt Verlag \u2022 384 pages \u2022 ISBN 9783499276798<\/p>\r\n\r\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The discerning reader of this blog will immediately recognize from the picture that this book more or less flew into my hands, since I normally don\u2019t buy paperbacks. The book was read by my much-valued pen pal, who wrote to me about it but only found it moderately good. After I expressed interest in the … <\/p>\n