Only half because I can’t bring myself to finish the book in one sitting. I’ve only gotten half way because I need to take extended breaks due to the chilling vomit inducing subject matter in this book.
Well, let’s go back to the beginning. Tampa, by Alissa Nutting is basically about a 26 year old female teacher, who basically goes into teaching so that she can teach year 8 students in the hopes that she can find one to groom and seduce.
You see, her first sexual awakening was with a 14-year-old boy when she was younger and she finds sex with anything other than 14 year olds doesn’t float her boat. She has a wealthy and from what I gather, pretty boy husband who she isn’t interested in until she’s half blind drunk and even then, it borders on spouse rape.
From various levels this book seems set out to draw you into the psychology of a female pedophile. It’s not often a side you get introduced to as anywhere you look in media, social circles or globally… mostly it seems that the men are the ones being waved around and publicized. There aren’t that many female pedophiles that we can point to. Apart from that school teacher in the states a while ago saying she was in love with her student. Maybe that’s where the author is drawing her inspiration from.
Now for anyone that’s read Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov – this is nothing like that. The author really does put Humbert to shame with her own character. Lolita was filled with mild perversions, it hinted at the horror.
Tampa is more like a slap in your face and take that bitch kind of book.
I think the author tries to throw in some black humour around her main character and in some instances she gets that across. Not to the point that I actually cracked a smile though. There’s the bit where she drives around with her dildo in her glove compartment and literally wanks outside this child’s house as she watches him through the window masturbating and his father is downstairs in the living room and while her husband thinks she’s at the gym. She’s so calculated that it makes me feel a bit ill. Even her frustrations at not being able to find suitable boy childs wasn’t that funny. I guess I’m missing the humour in this book. Apparently it’s meant to have some. All I’ve taken away from it is some mild trauma and the urge to scrub my brain.
I spent a lot of time trying not to rock while reading this book. I don’t know why totally know why and it gets my hackles up. And as much as it’s a work of fiction and that I know it’s a work of fiction, it squicks me out.
I can’t help it. It does.
At this rate this might be the only book I never finish.
And to be honest. I’d be totally ok with that.
I’ve decided that after this post I need a happy… so I’m sharing my happy.