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The Pleasure Dial: An Erotocomedic Novel of Old-Time Radio Reviewed By Dr. Wesley Britton of Bookpleasures.com
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Dr. Wesley Britton

Reviewer Dr. Wesley Britton: Dr. Britton is the author of four non-fiction books on espionage in literature and the media. Starting in fall 2015, his new six-book science fiction series, The Beta-Earth Chronicles, debuted via BearManor Media. For seven years, he was co-host of online radio’s Dave White Presents where he contributed interviews with a host of entertainment insiders. Before his retirement in 2016, Dr. Britton taught English at Harrisburg Area Community College. Learn more about Dr. Britton at his WEBSITE

 
By Dr. Wesley Britton
Published on October 26, 2012
 



Author: Jeremy Edwards
ISBN- 9781937898229





Author: Jeremy Edwards
ISBN- 9781937898229



Don't bother trying to find an official definition for "Erotocomedic" anywhere. If author Jeremy Edwards didn't coin the term, he certainly commands all Google hits for it. It basically means "erotic comedy," and the adjective is used to describe his book Rock My Socks Off and his short story collection, Spark My Moment. I'm tempted to say Edwards writes pages of graphic, explicit sex with tongue planted in cheek, but that really doesn't work. There's plenty of tongue-work in the book alright, but they mostly roam anywhere and everywhere except inside anyone's cheek.

In fact, were one to cut all the sex out of The Pleasure Dome, you'd end up with a witty short story set in 1934. It opens with New York radio gag writer Artie Plask moving to Hollywood. Working for the popular Sid Heffy Show, he teams with sexy Mariel Fenton who has both a witty tongue and easily excitable libido. They're part of a crew of comedy writers who have to deal with a star who thinks he should be a dramatic actor. In order to break away from Sid, the writers create a show of their own but need a sponsor. How about creating one of those too, the Metropolitan Mannequin Company for those who need the world's fleshiest fake skin?

 The cast of characters, however, are too numerous for a manageable short story. But not too many for all manner of sexual combinations in all manner of locations with considerable banter and repartee serving as both transitional material and literary foreplay. For example:

Following this mercifully short introduction, a morose orchestra whined For eight measures, after which the nation Was treated once again to the voice of Sid Heffy—this time in character.
“Dark. Another dark night. So dark.”    
“It never ceases to impress me how a great radio talent can use a minimum of words to evoke a rich atmosphere,” Mariel observed. “He only said dark three times, but I swear I can almost picture something dark."

The Pleasure Dial is a book with a happy ending, silly beginning, and few pages in between without at least one vividly described orgasm. If you can't be with the one you love, be with someone you can at least tolerate, or can't find someone to tolerate you, The Pleasure Dial should be some entertaining bedtime reading. I'll leave it at that.
      

   
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