F+
Title: An Enema, A Birthday Spanking, A Love Story
Written By: JG Knox
Publication Info: AuthorHouse Jan 2008
Genre: Historical: Other
ToroHo sent me a link. It was very mean of her.
It was a link to the book you see pictured over there: An Enema, A Birthday Spanking, A Love Story. The title of the actual paperback seems to read “When the Jonquils Bloom Again: Book One,” but the Amazon.com title is all enemas and spanking. Is there a better way to catch people’s attention as they look for something to read? Spankings and poo? Sign me up!
No, wait, don’t. I downloaded the Kindle sample (Kindle: Nom nom..What?!) and, well, in the interest of complete honesty, I went to the ladies’ room to read it. Here is all you need to know about this book:
Part the first: freeform poetry that’s not quite prose and not quite any good either about jonquils (aka daffodils) blooming in the snow, and something about ballet and dancing and flowers: “Life on ice, flowers in snow, blossoms in six petal tutus with matching trumpet leotards, jonquils, also known as daffodils, dance in the cold wind…. I am excited. My colon rumbles, wakes me with a familiar tune.”
No, that’d be part the second: IBS. Part dancing flowers, and part poo. Seems the first person narrator has irritable bowel syndrome, and the sample vacillates like a person doing the pee pee dance between rumination of spring flowers on frozen ground dancing with tutus, and chronicles of desperately needing to use the toilet and being unable to do so.
The narrator wants to wake her husband so he can give her an enema, but he’s old, he doesn’t feel well, and he’s sleeping.
Then there’s more about the dancing jonquils:
I watch my great granddaughter grow, dance a slow dance with her among the jonquils, and then hurry to the bathroom, my intestines rumbling.
Then the narrator jumps back in time a number of years, and all plot lines run through her colon. Her son enlisted in the army during what I believe is WWII, and the stress of it causes a new host of IBS symptoms. Then some ruminations about the Sun King, the French revolution, and how the cycle of contipation and diarrhea cause her to understand the political and social issues that erupted into a violent revolution:
The masses, deprived of dignity and toilets, deprive the royals of life itself when the suppression of constipation turns to the diarrhea of revolution.
According to the introduction, the author was inspired by a woman who was obsessively pleasured by both spankings and enemas, and this fictional first person account is based upon but not meant to be a literal interpretation of this woman. Whomever she is, I hope she’s pleased. I would be mortified, particularly by the story of a tour of an ancient French castle, colon-a-rumblin’, and the guide’s explanation of the latrine.
The narrator uses the ancient latrine after the party moves on, and while doing so mentally aligns herself with her bowel-irritated ancestors (the condition is hereditary, she wishes the reader to know many, many times). Then she unwittingly shits all over a laborer working to restore the castle. When the group is chastised by the tour guide for the indignity of crapping all over an unsuspecting man working on the wall beneath by saying, “Our workmen, peasants, are accustomed to being defecated on by the elite of our society, less so foreign tourists,” the narrator turns red and runs away, divulging her guilt to the rest of the party.
Then, the account of her lovingly administered enema in the hotel: “Why doesn’t my husband talk to me when I am having an enema?… Is there nothing to say after thousands of times over his knee? Is it because he knows how I feel? Is he leaving me time to go within myself, feel the love, as the water goes within me?”
I think Kenny Loggins’ autobiography details the love inherent in his wife’s giving him a high colonic, something about her love entering him. I wonder if this woman is a Kenny Loggins fan.
Then her husband tells her, mid enema, that she needs to have a life outside of him, their children, and the enema-tastic non-sex. He wants her to get a job. This upsets her.
Each syllable floods a cellar storing the canning jars of my life. Thoughts and beliefs held since childhood float off shelves, float in the muddy water within me.
He’s in her ass, changing her life.
All rivers run through this woman’s colon. I cannot bring myself to read any more. I never thought I’d say this, but the poo metaphor has truly, truly run its course.
This book is available from Amazon.
Alternate titles:
In Enema Hands
Emotional Evacuation
Ass the Turd Turns
Enemas at the Gate
Beloved Enema
Oh god, stop me before I pun again!
>>He’s in her ass, changing her life.<
<
Oh, you were just
dying to say that, weren’t you?
>>I never thought I’d say this, but the poo metaphor has truly, truly run its course. <<
“Run its course”? Yet another poo allusion!
Thank you once again for taking one for the team.
There are not enough acronyms or emoticons or LOLcats in the world to convey my utter bogglement that this piece of excrement (liquid alternating with solid) was a) written and b) published.
Ha! position11. I wasn’t really sure where enemas fit into the Kama Sutra.
Books like that always make me realize that while the response of 99.99999% of people who hear about it will be WHAT THE FUCK??? there will be that 0.00001% for whom it’s the book they were waiting for all their lives. Because, really, if a tale of enemas, spankings and daffodils are what you yearn for, that’s a hard kink to satisfy.
And that thought makes me happy on their behalf.
I especially like the reviews on the Amazon link.
(Seriously, the author’s recommendation at the bottom: “It is non pornographic, and a good Christmas present for a loved one, be they a maiden aunt, grandmother, rabbi, preist or minister.” I can’t think of any of the above I’d want to subject to that…)
This is a joke, right? The “author” of the book is having a little joke on us, right? Right? Pleeease?
Oh, man.
It wasn’t published, Suze, it was printed. AuthorHouse is a vanity press.
The author also claims this book is about “real down-home loving, the kind most of us grew up on.”
Perhaps I am rare—and obviously deprived of love—because enemas were not really—in fact, not at all—part of my growing up. Should I ask my mom about that? I always suspected she didn’t really love me.
(Seriously, though. After looking at the book’s Amazon page, I strongly suspect this was written to cater directly to the type of audience who views those “Watch women poop” websites online.)
December, you saved my psyche for just a moment there, and then you broke it again.
Whatever reassurance came to me with the knowledge that this story was released via vanity press has evaporated with the knowledge that there are “watch women poop” websites. Plural. Egad.
This is the sort of thing that makes me want to tell the author to just own her kink. Don’t try to dress is up with a bunch of stuff about flowers or try to pass it off as “real down-home loving, the kind most of us grew up on” because most people didn’t grow up on any such thing. Just admit you like something that’s a bit out of the mainstream, although far from rare, and live your life. Oy.
Muahahaha, Suze! 🙂
Revvin’ up your engine
Listen to her howlin’ roar
Metal under tension
Beggin’ you to touch and go
Highway to the Danger Zone
Ride into the Danger Zone
Did anyone notice something terribly ominous about this cover? This is Book One. It seems we can look forward to at least another volumn of fecal treats and blooming flowers.
Spamword – York36. As much as I’d love to scarf 36 York Pepperment Patties, I think I’d end up needing an enema. Or dialysis.
Well, color me dumb, but why would the author give their own book a five star review unless they’re afraid it’s the only one they’ll ever get? As to the other reviewer, he/she must have paid them!!! Because I can’t believe anyone willingly buys this crap (pun intended!)
Bwa! Teddypig, I was just having a conversation with some co-workers about frozen chunks o’ turds falling from airplanes. Poop and planes, they just seem to go so naturally together.
Based on this, I think an “F” is a little harsh (j/k), maybe a “B” (bm usage). This book sounds HI-larious! Is this for real?
Maybe I should start a list of must read books that have “D” ratings or lower instead of “B”‘s and “A”‘s. I missing out on some good reading material! 🙂
*I’m missing out….
I was laughing so hard that I couldn’t spell correctly!
There’s another one, they’re multiplying, spray everything.
For the Love of Amber When the Jonquils Bloom Again, Book Two
I actually thought “Good gravy!” and then I thought “Ewww, gravy is not something I want to be thinking about when enemas are the topic.”
If this is your thing, then go ahead, but t me it’s just ugh. I’ve never even been the least it bit interested in scat play and don’t want to read about anything to do with it. I find it all very disturbing.
Dang in my day a lady left the room before she even farted and if a man was in the bathroom with you he better be washing your back or fixing the sink!
OMG, check out the list of other books he’s written. His short story collections are titled Caught, and Spanked, and Mrs. Smith: the boarding school enemas. Does the world need this much IBS?
Whoa! Way TMI! I didn’t need to know about the first book much less the rest. *shudders* SarahSB, you are the Indiana Jones of romance readers! And E. D’Trix? I am SOOOO glad I had no liquids or foods stuffs anywhere near the computer!
“It is non pornographic, and a good Christmas present for a loved one, be they a maiden aunt, grandmother, rabbi, preist or minister.” From the author’s own review on Amazon.
Yup, got my Christmas list all wrapped up there! The Rabbi, in particular, I am sure would love this Christmas present.
Word verification: needed11
So, there’s hope of publishing my pet passion project “Douche You Love Me?”, a tale about a fast-paced, yet vaginally challenged, circus acrobat and the sexy clown who gives it to her good?
Brutallyhonestbabe……I’m sure it’d fit in the clown porn niche… go ahead, google “clown porn” i dare ya . LOL
Funny coincidence, I’m staying home today taking pico-salax and running to the bathroom, in preparation for a colonescopy. Don’t think I want to read The Poo-Poo Monologues, or whatever its called, though. Spamword areas95. Shouldn’t that be ‘arears’?
Well, there’s pornclownpossee and porn-clown…Hey! I’m usually up for a challenge, besides, I’m too curious now not to! However, one of the sites that came up was politically based…what does that tell you? *snort*
find93…I bet we could find 93+ sites out there like that! 😆
“He’s in her ass, changing her life.”
LMAO!
As a joke, I was going to say this review isn’t complete without some LOL-enema porn…but then I was afraid such a thing might actually exist *shudders*
Speaking as someone with IBD (not IBS), living through the bathroom misery is enough. Reading about it is not my idea of entertainment. I guess you could give it to your rabbi for Christmas, but it would be a shitty thing to do.
Dear merciful heavens, I’ll never be able to look at daffodils again without shuddering.
Oh. My. God.
Just when I start to think “Everything I write is crap; I’ll never ever get published,” along comes something like this to give me hope.
Okay, I feel SO much better about writing mansexin werewolf porn now—thank you!
At first I checked the calendar to be sure this was some bizarre disgusting poo-themed April Fools joke. Ew.
Clown Porn? Have you ever looked up “Ouchy the Clown”? His website’s first page states, “Ouchy the Clown, Nice to Beat You!” Yes, he’s an S&M;clown. And/or a discipline clown.
And I can only say, Poor Sarah. What you have to go through in the line of doody… I mean, duty.
What’s sad is I knew someone who used to have enemas during sex. She’s dead now.
ew. ick.
I read this all aloud to my other half. We laughed and laughed and laughed.
All I want to know is what the + is in the F+? Proper use of the colon?
bwahahahahaha!
I was grossed out until I got to the part about clown porn. OH HOLY GOD. Speaking as a person who has read “It” and lives in mortal fear of Pennywise and clowns in general . . . Holy God I did not need the combination of enemas and clowns in my morning.
SB Sarah, I think it’s safe to say you plumb the depths (I can’t believe I just wrote that) of all published works, ever. You should get a medal for sparing the rest of us.
You are full of awesome, Robin.
Unbelievable! I love self-published works!