What do you think?
Rate this book
Whiplash
"I'm gonna tell you all about it, Mom. I'm gonna tell it like I'm on the end of your bed, talking to you. I'm not gonna cover up, cause there's no need. You'll see how it's all a flippin miracle. The whole weird year. It's only one year in my life, Ma, but it's all the stuff you slept through when I was a kid. All the stuff you fished through when you got up. I'm warning you, Ma, this is the truth." Startling poetry in the grittiest of emotional word go ... raw, tender and laugh-out-loud Whiplash digs its nail into you from the funny - a kickarse gem of a book. Told with landscapes, Whiplash puts Farren on the map as a wordsmith of astonishing talent.
Winner of White Ribbon Award from Women Demand Dignity Advocacy Group
book: Whiplash
Winner of White Ribbon Award from Women Demand Dignity Advocacy Group
book: Whiplash
- GenresFiction
320 pages, paperback
First published June 1, 2008
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
May 11, 2009
I’m Not Doing This Because I Enjoy It
There are many things I haven’t given too much thought. Not because they don’t interest me, but because there are so many other things begging my attention. Prostitution wasn’t really on my to-mull list. It’s one of those things you eventually take for granted in Amsterdam, where women in skimpy underwear, posing enticingly, bathed in red light are just as much a part of the cityscape as canals and bicycles and the sweet scent of marijuana. Because it’s all out in the open, one is inclined to conclude that it’s just a business, a vocation, something that some women choose to do because it’s an easy way to earn money. Some people work in offices, hating every minute of their eight-hour day, others rent out their vagina or mouth or whatever, hating every minute of however long their shift lasts. Six, seven, ten, twelve hours? I don’t know, for the simple reason that I’ve never given this topic more than a passing glance, usually from the seat of my bicycle. But Whiplash has changed all that.
To start with, I found myself wondering how many of those women in windows are pre-programmed (for want of a better word) to become prostitutes. To what extent have humiliation, trauma, neglect and desperation contributed to their ultimate decision to choose this particular vocation? I am fully aware, of course, that many of these women – even in Amsterdam – are forced into prostitution and are under constant duress to remain in the business. But I am referring to women like Tess, the marvellously portrayed ‘hooker with a heart of gold’, who slips gradually through the occupational ranks from high-class escort working for an agency to pavement prostitute working solo, without the questionable protection of a pimp.
As the story unfolds, one gains insight into the traumatic experiences of Tess’ youth; the dark and sordid details of a life derailed. The fact that these experiences are narrated by Tess herself (in a letter to her mother) add an especially poignant dimension and makes them easier to digest, because they are recounted with great aplomb and a comical touch, in a superb parlando style that never wears thin because it’s staccato rhythm feels so right:
“A hundred bucks. Tourist price. Annie gets out at Wynberg park while I bend my head and tame the snake. A German, no hair on top. Two bald heads. I stop halfway, tell him I don’t swallow, so he gets a pack of Nandos serviettes. He’s polite, pink, sweats along his eyebrows. Afterwards he says, ‘Danke,’ his voice weak, like he needs to build up his red blood cells again. I nod, watch the forest glow, some last minute trick before the sun drops behind the rock. A better ending than that dumb dance show.”
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat goes Farren's gun, gradually blowing away preconceived notions about the ‘kind of women who end up as prostitutes,’ replacing those notions with the cold, hard, bloody realisation that intense misery usually precedes the initial decision to have sex for money. And even the word ‘decision’ seems ill chosen, when so many factors, circumstances and, yes, people collaborate to carve a path that leads to the inevitable.
In social psychology, this type of prejudice or cognitive bias is commonly known as the “fundamental attribution error”. What this boils down to is that we are inclined to exaggerate personality-based explanations for the behaviour of others, while underestimating situational factors underlying their behaviour. Conversely, we tend to exaggerate the extent to which situational factors determine our own behaviour. In short, we’re all a little unfair when judging the actions others, but I think this applies doubly to men when it comes to prostitution and pornography. At their basest organic level, most guys are subject to one of the world’s oldest algorithms: sexy/naked lady = erection = need for sex. This has not only spawned a multi-billion dollar sex industry, but is also still commonly offered as an extenuating circumstance for rape: “She was wearing a short skirt and high heels, your honour, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
But let me circumnavigate those dark waters for the moment and return to my original tack by way of a bold statement: I think most guys want to believe that sex workers do what they do because they are ‘that kind of woman’ or because they gain some sort of enjoyment from it. When the algorithm kicks in, most guys shut down their brains, bind and gag their superegos and give their id free rein. I’m also inclined to believe that this will never change, no matter what repressive measures are taken. Having read your book, however, I think it might be a good idea to attach a clear message to all pornographic material (perhaps it could also be posted on the doors and windows of brothels). That message should read:
“WARNING: I’m not doing this because I enjoy it.”
Perhaps that will convey the powerful message of Whiplash to the many millions of men who will not read this book.
There are many things I haven’t given too much thought. Not because they don’t interest me, but because there are so many other things begging my attention. Prostitution wasn’t really on my to-mull list. It’s one of those things you eventually take for granted in Amsterdam, where women in skimpy underwear, posing enticingly, bathed in red light are just as much a part of the cityscape as canals and bicycles and the sweet scent of marijuana. Because it’s all out in the open, one is inclined to conclude that it’s just a business, a vocation, something that some women choose to do because it’s an easy way to earn money. Some people work in offices, hating every minute of their eight-hour day, others rent out their vagina or mouth or whatever, hating every minute of however long their shift lasts. Six, seven, ten, twelve hours? I don’t know, for the simple reason that I’ve never given this topic more than a passing glance, usually from the seat of my bicycle. But Whiplash has changed all that.
To start with, I found myself wondering how many of those women in windows are pre-programmed (for want of a better word) to become prostitutes. To what extent have humiliation, trauma, neglect and desperation contributed to their ultimate decision to choose this particular vocation? I am fully aware, of course, that many of these women – even in Amsterdam – are forced into prostitution and are under constant duress to remain in the business. But I am referring to women like Tess, the marvellously portrayed ‘hooker with a heart of gold’, who slips gradually through the occupational ranks from high-class escort working for an agency to pavement prostitute working solo, without the questionable protection of a pimp.
As the story unfolds, one gains insight into the traumatic experiences of Tess’ youth; the dark and sordid details of a life derailed. The fact that these experiences are narrated by Tess herself (in a letter to her mother) add an especially poignant dimension and makes them easier to digest, because they are recounted with great aplomb and a comical touch, in a superb parlando style that never wears thin because it’s staccato rhythm feels so right:
“A hundred bucks. Tourist price. Annie gets out at Wynberg park while I bend my head and tame the snake. A German, no hair on top. Two bald heads. I stop halfway, tell him I don’t swallow, so he gets a pack of Nandos serviettes. He’s polite, pink, sweats along his eyebrows. Afterwards he says, ‘Danke,’ his voice weak, like he needs to build up his red blood cells again. I nod, watch the forest glow, some last minute trick before the sun drops behind the rock. A better ending than that dumb dance show.”
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat goes Farren's gun, gradually blowing away preconceived notions about the ‘kind of women who end up as prostitutes,’ replacing those notions with the cold, hard, bloody realisation that intense misery usually precedes the initial decision to have sex for money. And even the word ‘decision’ seems ill chosen, when so many factors, circumstances and, yes, people collaborate to carve a path that leads to the inevitable.
In social psychology, this type of prejudice or cognitive bias is commonly known as the “fundamental attribution error”. What this boils down to is that we are inclined to exaggerate personality-based explanations for the behaviour of others, while underestimating situational factors underlying their behaviour. Conversely, we tend to exaggerate the extent to which situational factors determine our own behaviour. In short, we’re all a little unfair when judging the actions others, but I think this applies doubly to men when it comes to prostitution and pornography. At their basest organic level, most guys are subject to one of the world’s oldest algorithms: sexy/naked lady = erection = need for sex. This has not only spawned a multi-billion dollar sex industry, but is also still commonly offered as an extenuating circumstance for rape: “She was wearing a short skirt and high heels, your honour, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”
But let me circumnavigate those dark waters for the moment and return to my original tack by way of a bold statement: I think most guys want to believe that sex workers do what they do because they are ‘that kind of woman’ or because they gain some sort of enjoyment from it. When the algorithm kicks in, most guys shut down their brains, bind and gag their superegos and give their id free rein. I’m also inclined to believe that this will never change, no matter what repressive measures are taken. Having read your book, however, I think it might be a good idea to attach a clear message to all pornographic material (perhaps it could also be posted on the doors and windows of brothels). That message should read:
“WARNING: I’m not doing this because I enjoy it.”
Perhaps that will convey the powerful message of Whiplash to the many millions of men who will not read this book.
June 26, 2008
Fabulous, brutal novel that needed to be written. Tess, a white South African streetwalker, is a character who will live with you. Every single person who I gave this book to read it in one sitting: it is a vivid, visceral book that pulls no punches. Must be one of the best novels about prostitution ever written. I read this in one afternoon and then my wide read it and wept. It is that good. Please, please, please would somebody make a movie out of this novel? Tracey Farren is a brilliant writer and the real deal. Watch this space, people.
Read
August 8, 2019Fast paced tale that whips you around by the seat of your pants. Thought provoking, raw, and yet - uplifting without resorting to "Pretty Woman" cheese. In the meantime, I need to learn to belly dance.
March 8, 2010
Tracey Farren writes beautifully. Loved it.
January 24, 2018
What a voice! What a story!
October 20, 2022
It took a while for me to get into the book but once I got to know the characters I was hooked and couldn't wait to find out how the story would unfold. I was not disappointed. As a coloured person, I love how accurate the author was in the portrayal of the coloured characters especially Chantal, Lennie and Annie. Very real. Very moving and very insightful.
September 10, 2013
Graphic and heart-wrenching, Tracey Farren leads you on an adrenaline and initially pain-killer-fuelled journey of self-destruction and beyond.
April 15, 2017
It took a long time for me to get into this book. I appreciate now that the almost telegram-style of writing in the beginning was to reflect Tess's reliance on painkillers, but it was a difficult style to get gripped by. I feel the story stayed too much on the surface, and the end was a little mushy. Still glad I read it, though, and curious to see the movie.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews