[Antelpebabe]

I would hardly consider this novel pornography--especially in the modern sense--or kinky sex as Eric is referring to it, if he means physical contact. While it has been some time since I've read it, I do not recall any sex in the erection, ejaculation, etc. sense, but only non-sexual gratification. The closest would have to be the "heaving bosoms"--ohhhh yeah, breathe for me baby; that's hot! Or perhaps its pornography is wasted on my generation?

True, Sacher-Masoch explores his views of women, their position in society, their connections and powers over men, invoking various mythologies and, obviously, the pivotal painting to create the aria of an enduring archetype. He also had a talent for description, and certainly aided me with my vocabulary deficit in regards to various furs and trimmings thereof--poor weasels

But I think calling it a significant literary work is an overstatement. While the story does explore what was then--or perhaps still largely is--a tabooed, smothered paraphilia, it becomes far too focused on the entertainment value rather than exploration of its psychology and implications. For what it's worth, I thought it started out fantastically and on the right track, hooking my interest completely, but it lost its way.

The way I see the novel, especially the second half, and even more so after reading his selected letters--with an extremely young admirer at that--, is Sacher-Masoch indulging in his own roller coaster ride of a sadomasochistic fantasy, or maybe reminiscence; allegedly the trip and events of the chateau were factual, which makes the work even more frustrating to me since the fictitious magical realism of the beginning and its dialog were so attractive, yet were caboose'd by the tiresome, devoid, redundant latter half.

Masoch, do me a favor and just make it all up next time. I'll whip you in reward.