Sam Benjamin's memoir, American Gangbang: A Love Story, reads like a tour de force of braggery. It's a laugh in the face that he got to live the life several men can only fantasize about. Not only did he get to work with big-breasted porn stars, he got to sleep with them, too. Sort of. Maybe not always in the ways he imagined, but that's more than most men can say, am I right? Still, this confession - can I even call it that? - depicts the darker moments and corners of the adult industry.
The story starts off from Sam packing up and heading west, finding himself in Santa Cruz with an art degree and not a single idea what to do with his life. So one day he buys porn, and decides that he's out to revolutionize the sex world as we know it. His meager beginnings include recording masturbation videos of himself while he gets off with a banana peel to recording a piss video with a man who cannot get an erection without drinking the urine of some makeshift dominatrix. Later, he's on the receiving end of a dildo in a bisexual porn flick. Then he's working for an interracial website dedicated to gangbangs. And that's where his career sets off.
He introduces us to an array of colorful characters and porn stars - names we may recognize, and others we'll wind up Google searching. There's Willie Timberlake, a bipolar ginger from Oakland whose inability to hold down a job destines him to become Sam's porn sidekick. White Liz, Sam's doomed love interest, who works within the porn industry without ever taking off her clothing. And those are the only people worth talking about, sorta.
There are several things that I find annoying(?) with this memoir. Small things that probably don't mean anything, and shouldn't deter a curious reader from reading it. For instance, there are times in the book when Sam Benjamin is adamant that he's done with pornography, but continues to pick up the camera. It's almost feels as if the reader's supposed to pat him on the back and whisper, "There, there. You deeply troubled pornographer. It's not your fault that porn's so degrading to the women you hire. You're only doing what you're told."
The dialogue also comes into question. Most of it feels scripted. Granted that Sam is working on memory, and I'm sure most things are paraphrased, it still robs from the story. In some instances, he'll drop a random one-liner as if he was working on a sitcom script in the process.
However, the book - despite it's bragging - does give the reader a glimpse of the so-called glamour of the porn industry. From the horrendous Honey back story to the poor broke Czech woman who is, figuratively and possibly literally, ripped in half during a sex scene. The way he handles his story - with the exception of the unnecessary epilogue - acts more a cautionary tale than the clueless Jenna Jameson's memoir.
So if you're looking for a pornographic memoir on the subject, pick up the book. It's worth the time taken to read it. You can pick up a copy at Amazon and Barnes and Noble, and it's available for Kindle and Nook, respectively. Until next time, keep on huntin'.
More Porn Memoirs @ Amazon
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