Sexmax — George H. Leonard, as Hughes Cooper (1969)


Publisher: Paperback Library

First Paperback Library Edition, 1969

Cover Art: Robert Foster

Plot Synopsis (of cover): “My thing is TOTALLY better!” Tad said to his conjoined brother Bork, who grew from his kneecaps. “Look at how green it is. I mean, sure, yours is green, but mine? Mine is SUPER green.” In frustration, Bork squeaked the mishmash of bike parts that composed his lower torso. “Tad,” he protested, “Tad, Tad, Tad. Clearly you’ve no taste at all. Sure, yours is green. But mine is perfectly balanced. See? I can spin this shit like a dreidl on my fingers.” “Lemme see!” exclaimed Tad, leaning over Bork’s shoulders to look. This caused Tad’s balls to slap Bork in the back of the neck, upsetting Bork’s concentration and making it absolutely impossible to perform the wicked sweet dreidl maneuver. “God dammit, Tad!” Bork shouted, “Swaddle your waddle, or I’m rolling us into a crater!” Bork often used his handicap to threaten his brother, who possessed no independent means of locomotion. Suddenly, the Flying Ginger Sisters, the only trapeze group on the moon of the moon, rolled up on Tad and Bork. “How do you like our steampunk unicycle?” they asked in unison. “We made it out of lunar lander pieces and the broken wristwatches of dead astronauts!” Tad looked at the Ginger Sisters. “Say, ladies, what do you think is more important? That your thing be green, or that it be well-balanced?” The sisters all pulled out their things to compare, accidentally letting their metallic-blue space blanket get caught in the nonexistent wind. “Oh, no!” they cried, “Our breasts are expanding in the vacuum of space!” Bork fumed in silence as Tad’s erection pressed into the base of his skull. He could have once again chastised his brother, but he wasn’t certain it wouldn’t be, at least in part, out of jealousy.

Relatively Irrelevant Inside Text: There is some really curious shit on the internet, bizarre and strange smut featuring everything from paint drying to Waffle Crisp. Being a native and having experienced a good chunk of it, this novel has that odd flavor of “someone else’s fetish.” I suspect that the majority of you know the feeling to which I refer—you get it when you stumble across a picture of a sexualized Sonic the Hedgehog, or a scrap of slashfic dedicated to the cast of The West Wing. I suppose it’s a disturbed sort of schadenfreude, a reveling in the uncomfortable loops people have to jump through to get their rocks off. So what niche desire does Sexmax fulfill? What dark corner of human lust does it serve? The best I can do is to say this—have you ever been sexually aroused by Walden 2? Have you ever wished that it took place in a not-too-distant future where men older than 50 can dictate their sexual desires to, and have them fulfilled by, the state? Do you enjoy reading tame depictions of coitus between middle-aged women and nubile young men? If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, friend, you’ve come to the right place. The novel circles around a fortysomething widow who applies to the government bureau for sexual maximization (from the novel: “THE SEXMAX CREED: Every citizen of the Untied States of America, regardless of age status or other distinguishing characteristics, has a natural right to a full sex life maximized according to his or her propensity and the state of the art.”) for an 18-year-old partner. They boink a lot, there’s romance, and it’s really strange. There’s also some nice background development done on this ostensible utopia (yeah, guess what THAT means). One of my favorite bits takes place on a tour of a child enrichment center. “‘The new Legislature will consider a new law making it an offense to toilet-train a child before the age of three. Playing with the feces is the first step toward a healthy adulthood. Modern theory is convincing that ignorance of this concept was responsible for the Germanic invasions of the twentieth century.'” Seriously, this book speaks for itself better than I ever could. Consider adding it to your Amazon cart as a last minute stocking-stuffer for Grandma.

Rating: 8.9 Government-Issued Poodles for the Less Promiscuous

Questions for Critical Cover-Viewing:

  • Looking closely… is it possible that these women are using arm-length, penis-shaped, flesh-colored staves to cover their own genitals?
  • When Salvador Dali called, did he ask for his oeuvre back?
  • At what point in the artwork request process did concept drawings marketing a novel that takes place entirely on Earth, featuring only one named female character under the age of forty, featuring zero bicycles, featuring zero penis staves, turn into this?

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3 thoughts on “Sexmax — George H. Leonard, as Hughes Cooper (1969)

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