In the age of digital publishing absolutely anyone can self-publish a book and have it available to purchase on Amazon. Unfortunately, often that route to becoming a published author is ill advised. Commonly these vanity press ventures are amateurish at best and suffer from unprofessional cover art, numerous proofreading errors, and an overall lack of objective editorial input.
A recent example of this sort of publishing misstep is Louis Antonucci’s Tokyo Sex Slave, a self-published erotic book that was definitely not yet ready to go to market and would have benefited greatly from oversight by a publisher that specializes in erotica. To its credit, this book has a refreshingly novel premise. It chronicles the misadventures of a struggling male model whose dream assignment to Tokyo turns into a nightmare when he discovers his Japanese handlers intend to force him to be a male prostitute serving wealthy and kinky women for an indefinite period. Alas, the execution of that potentially compelling story was woefully flawed.
To begin with, the writing style is somewhat pedestrian. And besides the prose being simplistic and unrefined, the author’s use of language indicates that he is not a native English speaker. The text contains many curious phrases and misuses of idiomatic expressions that interfere with the flow of the story. Plus, there is also unintended humor as a result of the breathless manner in which the narrator describes his sexual excitation and activities.
The sexual scenarios that the protagonist is thrown into are fairly kinky and are the best written interludes in the book, despite the above mentioned flaws. Oddly, as they are transpiring the model is lamenting the Hell of his predicament even as he is performing with amazing ardor and stamina. After only a few instances of the protagonist being pimped out, that aspect of his ordeal ends when his last client, who has fallen madly in love with him, shows up on his day off to whisk him away from certain death because she has learned his handlers are planning to kill him.
From then on the erotica is over. After a daring escape assisted by his new lover’s trusted retinue, in which the assassins are themselves dispatched, they flee to the U.S. and go into hiding for the rest of their lives at a cabin somewhere within driving distance of Los Angeles. After many years, on one of their few visits to the local community, they both contract some unspecified disease and die — end of story.
This very short erotic book left me with the impression that it was produced by someone with ADHD. The story wasn’t developed properly; the characters weren’t fleshed out; the text wasn’t proofread; and it suddenly transitioned from erotica to a lame wrap-up as if the author got bored with the whole thing and wanted to end it. My advice to Mr. Antonucci would be to give up on writing if he’s not willing to give it his full effort; and, if he does stick with it, please avail himself of the services of an editor and a publisher.Powered by Sidelines