c:/program/docs/elle
Probing the Mind of Alvin
( ... Are You SURE You Want to Do This? ... )
By Hanna Martineau
Copyright, Elle Magazine, All Rights Reserved
How, exactly, do you start an interview with a man whose ``Inner Life’’ centers on imagining women’s vaginas?
That’s not my assessment of the anonymous writer the world knows as Alvin, it’s his. It was the second thing out of his mouth during our recent telephone conversation. First, he told me he liked my accent (British). He then said, without a hint of irony: ``Ms. Martineau, I hope you don’t take this wrong, but I’m going to spend much of this conversation imagining your vagina. It just makes the time go quicker for me. It would help if you’d tell me what color your hair is. The natural color, I mean.’’
I acquiesced (``I’m brunette,’’ I told him, hesitantly) only because my editor had warned me the conversation might get personal, and I had taken the assignment with that understanding. I’ll admit, I didn’t expect the assignment to include describing my vagina to a strange man over the phone, but I figured if I could handle two years of covering Congress, I could handle ``Alvin.’’
I was right, but barely. I almost hung up at least four times during our ninety-minute telephone interview, which encompassed men, women, sex, God, the Internet, the publishing industry, Larry Flynt’s wheelchair, Hillary Clinton’s labia (yes, you read that correctly), and just about every female biological term I’ve ever heard of and a few I hadn’t.
By the end of the interview, I felt angry with Alvin – and, I’ll admit, a little aroused; and still angrier at myself for my arousal, as if it were a betrayal to my gender. After all, his book, The Electric Adventures of Alvin, describes and explores our reproductive functions as if they’re a dessert menu. We’re supposed to be mad at this guy.
Yes, if you’ve read Alvin – quite possibly the single largest-selling tome of out-and-out pornography ever written – you know that there’s some truth to the criticism that he does, frequently, seem to be reducing women to their individual body parts. But (admit it, women) there’s more to it than that. Tucked among the book’s many ``snatches,’’ ``muffs,’’ and ``slick pink clits’’ is a voice oddly affectionate toward womanhood. The author’s fascination with the female mind, his obsessive examination of what’s between women’s ears even as he considers what’s between their legs, becomes quickly clear to anyone willing to look past the sex (and there is, make no mistake, a lot of sex to look past).
Alvin doesn’t just lust women; he seems also to like them. Indeed, every major character in the book, with the exception of the Alvin himself, is female, and most are positive creations. Gem and Minnie especially are, in their admittedly perverse ways, strong, almost – dare we say it? – feminist characters. (One reviewer called Gem ``the Scarlett O’Hara of Internet sex.’’) The book’s legendary male-bashing, meanwhile, is so intense and unrelenting that some of its more vociferous male critics have alleged (wrongly) that Alvin is actually a woman. One of the most scathing, most utterly dismissive reviews of this putatively sexist book can be found in, of all places, January’s Playboy magazine.
We may not want to admit it, my fellow ``owners of breasts’’ (as ``Alvin’’ calls us), but doesn’t he connect with us on some level? Maybe somewhere in that hidden place he calls the ``Inner Life’’?
I think maybe he does – though it would be easier to ascertain if he wasn’t continually asking us about our vaginas.
``Describe yours to me,’’ he asked me, barely three minutes into our phone conversation.
``I’m not going to do that,’’ I said.
``Do you shave? I hope not,’’ he said. And so on.
Tech-sex pioneer, or post-modern pervert? You be the judge. Here, edited for space but still electrically adventurous, is my conversation with Alvin . . .
* * *
HANNA MARTINEAU: When you wrote The Electric Adventures of Alvin, how did you imagine that readers would react?
ALVIN: I imagined they would masturbate. Didn’t you? Masturbate, I mean?
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Pause) Um – Did you think it would become a bestseller?
ALVIN: You didn’t answer my question, Ms. Martineau.
HANNA MARTINEAU: I’m not going to talk with you about my masturbatory habits. Now, when you wrote it-
ALVIN: So, you do have ``masturbatory habits’’?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Can we stick with the issues, here? Please?
ALVIN: That is the issue.
HANNA MARTINEAU: Masturbation?
ALVIN: Yes.
HANNA MARTINEAU: That’s the only reason you wrote the book? To masturbate?
ALVIN: And to make others masturbate. Especially women. Isn’t that obvious?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Okay, on the surface, perhaps. But once we get beyond that part, beyond the sex, into the symbolic substance of the thing – for example, the opposing personas represented by Minnie and Gem, the soulmate and the slut: Are you, in fact, using these metaphors to examine two different aspects of femininity? And if so, what does it say to us about –
ALVIN: They’re not ``metaphors’’ for anything. They’re just a couple friends I had. Why do you people always insist on making this more than it is?
HANNA MARTINEAU: ``You people’’?
ALVIN: You magazine people. Alvin wasn’t about ``the evolution of sex in the computer age’’ or ``searching for a secular God’’ or any of this other stuff these goofy reviewers keep saying it was about. It was whacking material, nothing more.
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Pause) Then I guess this is going to be a short interview.
ALVIN: I guess maybe it is. . . .
* * *
ALVIN: I don’t understand the way most men think. They say I’m a pervert because, in the book, I see sexual things where most men don’t see them, but I think my view is maybe more `normal’ than theirs. The physical attractiveness thing, for example – why is it that men are attracted to just the physical, while women are attracted to the whole package? Isn’t it more rational to be attracted to the whole package? Why am I weird for being attracted to the whole package?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Example?
ALVIN: Okay – ask most people, most thinking people, ``Who would you rather have a serious philosophical discussion with, Hillary Clinton or Paris Hilton?’’ Most people, even most men – if they honestly stay within the boundaries of the question, ``serious philosophical discussion’’ – are going to say Hillary Clinton. That makes sense to people, because if the point is thinking and talking, then Hillary Clinton is more relevant in that setting than Paris Hilton. But then ask, ``Whose nipples would you rather stroke? Whose labia would you rather explore with your tongue?’’ -
HANNA MARTINEAU: Oh, my ...
ALVIN: – and suddenly, for most men, the answer changes, and before long they’re ditching Hillary Clinton and lunging for Paris Hilton’s labia. And no one stops to say, ``Wait a minute, why are we shifting gears so fast?’’ It’s like, for men, there’s some damned wall between thought and sex, like the two couldn’t possibly mix. Why is that? Both these women have breasts, they both have vaginas, they both have labias, but only one of them, we’ve already established, has something relevant to say. To me, it’s an obvious a choice, a simple matter of one of them having more ... more ... well, just more, than the other. So, my answer, to the second question, would still be Hillary Clinton. I don’t call that perversion, I call it consistency. I’d want to explore Hillary Clinton’s labia for the same reason I’d want to explore her mind – she’s more interesting.
HANNA MARTINEAU: So, you mean --
ALVIN: Plus, I think we’ve all seen more than enough of Paris Hilton’s labia, don’t you?
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Laughter)
ALVIN: (Laughter)
* * *
HANNA MARTINEAU: I don’t know how to break this to you, Alvin, but I don’t think Hillary Clinton is going to be offering up her labia to you any time soon.
ALVIN: No, I think you’re probably right about that.
HANNA MARTINEAU: She recently called you, ``More dangerous than Larry Flynt."
ALVIN: That’s not saying much. Larry Flynt is in a wheelchair.
HANNA MARTINEAU: You know what she meant.
ALVIN: That Alvin has wormed its way into the mainstream, in a way that Flynt and other pornographers haven’t?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Right. How do you respond?
ALVIN: I think she’s probably right. There’s no way this book belongs on the fiction bestseller lists next to Toni Morrison and Alice Walker and Ann Tyler. No way. But let’s be clear on this – I’m not the one who put it there. Your friends over at Harper’s and The New York Times put it there, not me. I, for one, have never had any delusions about what this is.
HANNA MARTINEAU: ``Whacking material.’’
ALVIN: Right.
* * *
HANNA MARTINEAU: Okay, this is the big question, the one my editors specifically wanted to make sure I asked you: The Internet sex scenes in the book, the scenes where Alvin and Gem and the rest are – are --
ALVIN: Masturbating?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Right. The scenes where they’re ... where they’re doing that in front of their computers, while they’re writing to each other – Are those conversations real?
ALVIN: Did you think I could make that up?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Some would say it’s an unlikely way to have sex. It just wouldn’t work for a lot of people. Give me an example, if you would. Say we were typing, over the Internet, instead of talking. How would an actual Internet sex session go?
ALVIN: I’m not sure I want to answer questions that personal until you answer one of mine. (Pause) What size are your breasts?
HANNA MARTINEAU: I’m the interviewer here, Alvin.
ALVIN: An answer for an answer: What’s your breast size?
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Pause) Okay. B-cup.
ALVIN: Declarative sentences, Hanna – always use declarative sentences.
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Long pause) My breasts are B-cup. Thirty-two B.
ALVIN: Much better.
HANNA MARTINEAU: Now – give me an example of an Internet sex exchange.
ALVIN: I just did.
* * *
HANNA MARTINEAU: It’s interesting that you only named female authors, earlier.
ALVIN: Did I?
HANNA MARTINEAU: You mentioned Toni Morrison, Alice Walker and Ann Tyler. What about Tom Wolfe and John Irving and all the other male authors out there?
ALVIN: What about them?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Do you hate men, Alvin?
ALVIN: Do you?
HANNA MARTINEAU: No, I rather like them.
ALVIN: Why? What could there possibly be to like about men, on the whole?
HANNA MARTINEAU: What is there to so intently dis-like? On the whole?
ALVIN: Where should I start? Their ugly reproductive organs? Their graceless voices? Their foggy minds? The way they’ve bungled their ownership of the world? The way they smell when they sweat? Have you even noticed how different a woman’s sweat smells than a man’s? A woman’s sweat has a natural, almost clean smell to it, like her body is rejuvenating itself. Men’s sweat smells like something that’s been fermenting in a drainage ditch for a week. Think about it: Even a sweaty woman generally smells better than a clean man.
HANNA MARTINEAU: What about you, Alvin? You’re a man. Don’t you sweat?
ALVIN: No. I bathe frequently.
HANNA MARTINEAU: There seems to be an element of gender-based self-loathing to you, something I noticed in the book as well. As a woman, I don’t mind telling you it’s a little disconcerting.
ALVIN: No, I don’t specifically loathe myself. I just believe, for very rational and defensible reasons, that the female gender has value and the male gender is wretched.
HANNA MARTINEAU: Haven’t you ever heard of ``penis envy’’?
ALVIN: Anyone who envies a penis might as well envy a shit-eating dog.
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Pause) God. (Pause) Do you really believe that, Alvin?
ALVIN: (Long pause)
* * *
HANNA MARTINEAU: Are you married?
ALVIN: Answer for an answer?
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Laughter) My pubic hair is black, okay? Is that declarative enough for you?
ALVIN: That’s not what I was going to ask.
HANNA MARTINEAU: Oh ...
ALVIN: How big are your areolas?
HANNA MARTINEAU: My ... my what?
ALVIN: The dark ring of flesh around each nipple.
HANNA MARTINEAU: That’s what that’s called?
ALVIN: Are they big, or small?
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Pause) As compared to what?
ALVIN: (Laughter) Good point. Okay, how big are they across, each circle, from one edge to the other?
HANNA MARTINEAU: I’ve never measured them. Okay, look, if we could just --
ALVIN: Estimate. Peek under your bra right now, and estimate.
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Long pause) Okay. About two inches. Maybe a little more.
ALVIN: Declarative sentences, please.
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Laughter) Oh, for Christ – Okay, fine. My ... my ... what did you call them?
ALVIN: Areolas.
HANNA MARTINEAU: My ar ... My arel ... The dark flesh around my nipples --
ALVIN: Even better!
HANNA MARTINEAU: – is about two inches across. Or maybe a little more. They’re pretty wide, okay?
ALVIN: Yes, that is pretty wide. I bet they’re sensitive.
HANNA MARTINEAU: Yes, they are. My turn. You’re married, right?
ALVIN: Yes. Happily.
HANNA MARTINEAU: And how big are your wife’s ... areolas?
ALVIN: (Intense laughter)
* * *
HANNA MARTINEAU: Part of the criticism you’ve gotten from the book is tied to its brazen atheism. You seem to assume throughout that there is no God.
ALVIN: There is no God. Obviously. But I think it’s pretty funny to me that even within a book like this, full of nudity and sex and orgasms, that these religious zealots are complaining about that. It’s pornography, for crying out loud – what did they expect, rosaries?
HANNA MARTINEAU: But you open the subject in the book. You go out of your way, it seems, to express your belief in atheism. Now, having done that–
ALVIN: Wait a minute, wait a minute – my ``belief in atheism’’? That’s a contradiction in terms. It isn’t a question of a `belief’ in something, but rather a refusal to believe in something when there is no reason to. You see the difference there? This is what our society always does – it turns the question around, when it comes to religion. In any other part of our lives, if someone makes a remarkable, bizarre claim – ``the sky is falling, the animals are talking, the world is riding on the back of the giant turtle’’ – we rightly begin by assuming it’s not true, until we’re given some reason to believe it is true. Religion is the only part of life in which we start by believing the unbelievable, and when someone doesn’t believe it, we say, ``Well, why not?’’ That’s the wrong question, Hanna. The question shouldn’t be ``Why not?’’, the question should be ``Why?’’ Let me ask you – do you believe in Santa Claus?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Well, no, but—
ALVIN: No. Yet, you wouldn’t describe yourself as ``atheistic’’ on the question of Santa Claus, would you? No, of course not. It would give the Santa Claus myth too much credit to assign a special word for those who don’t believe in it. Not believing in Santa Claus doesn’t make you ``atheistic’’ on the issue – it just makes you normal. It’s just the baseline. Would it make sense for me to demand an explanation for your lack of belief in Santa Claus? Of course not. We start with the assumption that he isn’t true, as we should. It is those who believe in the incredible who have to explain themselves, who get special words assigned to them – unless the incredible belief in question is a belief in God. Then, for whatever reason, we change all the rules and turn the whole thing around.
HANNA MARTINEAU: But belief in God and belief in Santa Claus aren’t the same thing.
ALVIN: (Long pause) No, that’s true. Belief in Santa Claus is fun.
* * *
ALVIN: Please tell me. I think I have a right to know.
HANNA MARTINEAU: A ``right to know’’? How so?
ALVIN: Okay, maybe not a ``right’’ to know. But you should tell me anyway. Because we’re friends now.
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Laughter) God, you really are such a pervert.
ALVIN: C’mon. (Pause) Hanna?
HANNA MARTINEAU: Okay. The answer is yes.
ALVIN: Declarative sentence, please?
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Pause) Yes, Alvin, your book made me masturbate. But only two times. So don’t get a big head about it. (Laughter)
ALVIN: Oh, Hanna, you’re wonderful.
HANNA MARTINEAU: God, I hope my fiancée doesn’t read this.
* * *
HANNA MARTINEAU: What does your wife think of Alvin?
ALVIN: What shape is your pubic hair?
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Pause) The usual shape.
ALVIN: There is no ``usual shape.’’ There is a classic, ``inverted triangle’’ shape. But other times it’s more elongated. Sometimes it extends very high toward the navel, with a rounded shape at the top. Other times the top of the pubic line is lower, and straight across. Still other times it doesn’t really have a shape – it’s just kind of a mass of hair.
HANNA MARTINEAU: (Laughter) You know this subject too well.
ALVIN: I figure yours is probably fairly thick – dark-haired women usually are. But I can’t really guess at the shape, not without seeing your face. That’s what I want to know.
HANNA MARTINEAU: This isn’t why I got into journalism, you know. (Laughter, pause) Okay. Yes, my pubic hair is fairly thick. Some would say very thick. And low. It isn’t the ``elongated’’ kind at all. It’s very much in the shape of an upside-down triangle, and fairly straight along the top and the sides. I keep it that way, trimming up about once a month. Okay? Now about your wife – does she like the book?
ALVIN: (Long pause) Yes. Of course. She loves it.
HANNA MARTINEAU: Does she? Because you really hesitated there. Is she a full part of this with you, Alvin? I mean the Internet sex and the book and all that? Is she part of your – what do you call it? – your ``Inner Life’’?
ALVIN: (Long pause) Of course she is. (Long pause) What kind of a person would exclude his spouse from his Inner Life?
