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Culture October 10, 2016
When you hear the word “Shakespeare,” what do you think of? Boring afternoons in high school English class? Playing Juliet in your school’s annual showing of “Romeo and Juliet”? What about all the papers you’ve written analyzing one of Shakespeare’s hundreds of sonnets? Either way, “sex” probably isn’t the first association to pop into your mind, which is what makes Jillian Keenan’s hilarious and kinky memoir, “Sex with Shakespeare,” such a memorable book to read.
Keenan is (somewhat) unashamedly blunt, but this only adds to the book’s charm. The fact is, there’s no graceful way to bring up a lifelong fetish with BDSM, especially to an audience who, for the most part, considers her bedroom behavior “weird.” But Keenan treats the emergence of her fetish like any other emerging sexuality while highlighting the added pressure she felt in pursuing sex as a woman and as a closeted fetishist.
Because of her “unnatural” obsession with spanking, Keenan felt ashamed, awkward and in denial about her fetish. She also recounts feeling sexually violated from being spanked as a child, since her kink was ingrained since childhood. She makes it a point in her memoir to argue against spanking children and other forms of corporal punishment using her own experiences, reminding us that “children have emerging sexual identities – and if even one percent of them perceive spanking as a sex act, we are sexually violating too many kids.”
Perhaps the most interesting part of this book, however, involves Keenan’s alternative analyses of William Shakespeare’s works. Keenan has read and studied the classic playwright for much of her life. In her book, she uses fictitious dialogue with his characters to explore her sexuality and propel her through difficult circumstances and relationships.
She begins her book with a jarring yet fascinating interpretation of Shakespeare’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” within the context of a BDSM dynamic between Helena and Demetrius. To put it simply, by page 23, you know this memoir isn’t like the ones you used to read for college classes.
Keenan reminds us that even though we associate Shakespeare with high culture, he still had to appeal to the “groundlings” or lower-class audience members, who paid a penny (for comparison, a loaf of bread was one penny in Shakespeare’s day) to stand next to the stage and watch the plays. Much of the sexual humor in Shakespeare’s works caters to these audience members. It would be unfair to the playwright if his plays aren’t read with an eye for sexual undertones.
“Sex with Shakespeare” boasts all of the components needed for a readable, engaging memoir. Keenan’s language is welcoming and candid, her humor makes uncomfortable situations easier to handle and her reflections teach lessons that readers can use long after finishing the book. Leaving Keenan with the last word, she says, “I didn’t share my obsession publicly in the hope that other fetishists would do the same. I did it in hope that, despite our national epidemic of sexual repression, a few others might feel empowered to confess their desire to themselves.”
