Bedbug sperm wars.

The Story of V: A Natural History of Female Sexuality. By Catherine Blackledge. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2004, 322 pages. Cloth, $24.95.

In my gynecologist's office there is a framed cartoon on the wall: several grinning sperm in hot pursuit of a fleeing, unhappy egg. Such omnipresent and anthropomorphic mythology about males as sexually "active" and females as sexually "passive," especially with regard to genitalia and reproduction, must have driven Blackledge to prove them wrong. She writes, "I wasn't satisfied with my perception of female genitalia, what I knew about the vagina" (p. 2). Why did having a vagina make her life different, even to the extent of being treated as a second-class citizen, from someone without one? Why were female genitalia so understudied? Why so little research into female reproduction and so many contradictory scientific opinions?

The publisher's press release about this book states:

   In the past, medicine may have misrepresented female anatomy,
   reducing its remarkable complexities to the notion of a passive
   vessel, but as The Story of V shows, science is at last beginning to
   reveal the true structure and function of female genitalia and the
   dynamic nature of the vagina's role in both sexual pleasure and
   reproduction.

Blackledge herself writes,

   For centuries, the notion of female genitalia as a passive vessel
   ..., in part, explains why so little time and money has been
   expended in the past on figuring out the actual structure and
   function of female genitalia. Yet the idea of the vagina as a
   passive vessel is possibly one of the greatest scientific
   misconceptions of all (p. 3).

Research has shown, she describes, how female choice is widespread at the vaginal/reproductive level: "Females store sperm, they eject sperm, they destroy sperm and they carefully and precisely select the most genetically compatible sperm for them[selves] with their amazing genitalia" (p. 3).

Blackledge, a science writer with a Ph.D. in chemistry, takes readers on a grand tour through prehistoric art, ancient history, linguistics, mythology and folklore, evolutionary theory, reproductive biology, and medicine. Chapters cover the history of vaginal representation across cultures; the history of descriptions, definitions, and terms for female genitalia; a cross-species look at feminine reproductive selection as manifested at the sperm/egg level; the clitoris; the vagina; connections between the genitalia and the nose/scent; and orgasm.

Blackledge aims to show how history and culture have represented and misrepresented female genitalia, and how female organisms at all levels of the taxonomic tree are active rather than passive in the sexual/reproduction process. These are compelling goals, certainly relevant to the interests of many JSR readers, and her range of scholarship, research, and factoids is impressive. Researchers into female sexuality may find the book a fascinating resource to check their own knowledge as well as a gold mine of examples to use for writing and teaching. For example, we learn that female mites and ticks require extensive oral stimulation from the male's mouthparts so that the female's vaginal opening swells sufficiently to accept the male's sperm packet (pp. 103-104).

However, The Story of V has serious drawbacks both for professionals and for the interested public. First, Blackledge chooses specific themes (e.g., vaginal display, impregnation, the clitoris, the vagina, female orgasm) and then for each one follows a dizzying sweep through history, cultures, and phyla, factoid piled on factoid, laundry list following laundry list. It's like a smorgasbord of casseroles and tossed salads: everything's a mixture, and there are so many ingredients that I lost sight of all but her main point, that the female is active not passive. Things went by so quickly that I could neither remember or understand, nor appreciate (or believe!), everything I read. Fewer but lengthier examples would have been much more entertaining and understandable, and less tedious. Furthermore, many of her descriptions are difficult to follow even with the illustrations, which unfortunately give only tantalizing snapshots with little or no context. In her presentation, all context was left out to grant space for her agenda: the female is active. But her agenda would shine more powerfully if we could see context. Roadmaps to the argument would help also, like more and better subheadings, some sidebars, and better introductory and concluding sections.

A second primary problem is that Blackledge attributes agency and intent anthropomorphically to everything. Here's a typical bit of her prose:

   In order to weed out the unsuitable fertilisation candidates, the
   female's vagina presents a series of genitalic hurdles in the shape
   of her oviductal obstacle course. Only the sperm that can overcome
   all of these will have a chance of fusing with her egg....
   [T]he vagina is an extremely hostile acidic arena, which easily
   destroys newcomers. It has to be if it wants to be selective (pp.
   109-110).

This is her style throughout. Unfortunately, Blackledge buys into the cliches she deplores by using the same anthropomorphic framework to disprove them. But passive vaginas aren't incorrect simply because vaginas are in fact active. Passive vaginas and female genitalia are factually and logically incorrect, just as are active penises and male genitalia, because organs and body parts don't have psychology or intent or agency. What organs do is simply not describable in terms of human psychological states. And moreover, no organ system or body part "just lies there" in real life.

This is a matter of style, not content. Many of her examples are fascinating and do show that natural complexity trumps historical and cultural cliches of active vs. passive. But that is the point. She would have a far stronger case by disproving the active vs. passive framework rather than simply taking the opposite side of the argument.

Third, she provides no way to check her statements and examples. There is a "Further Reading" bibliography at the end, with major books by chapter, but that doesn't help the reader who might want to find the original reference for a specific claim. This makes the book intensely frustrating for the professional who might want to use her examples or explore them further.

Although this book is subtitled a "natural history" and published by a university press, it is not what one would expect from good science writing. Science aims for understanding, not (only) pushing an agenda. It doesn't attribute intent to organs and body parts, and only cautiously to subhumans like bedbugs, and everything is referenced. But perhaps The Story of V is pitched more to the intelligent public than to professionals in sexology. Blackledge could get away with this approach if the book was about 150 pages long and a "cool facts about female sexuality" sort of thing from a trade press, or a series of articles somewhere in a feminist journal or magazine. However, the complex and technical discussion, cascades of detailed examples, and sparse roadmaps through the narrative would likely discourage all but the most persistent and fascinated fans of femalia. This is not a book to give to young, sound-bite-habituated women needing a self-esteem boost.

Reviewed by Martha Cornog, M.A., M.S., 717 Pemberton Street, Philadelphia, PA, 19147; e-mail: perpcorn@ dca.net.