Notes On: The Sexual Life of Catherine M Review

Content Warnings:

Unconditional Consent, Group Sex, Bestiality, Consent Violations, Vomit

Catherine dissects her own arousal and erotic encounters with bluntness and curiosity, giving you clear insight into her sexual development, fantasies and experiences. For the most part, I enjoyed this book, and believe I am unlikely to find another quite like it. The narration style made it feel like having a conversation with an old friend. It’s explicit and much of the language is crass, but there are thought provoking moments throughout, coupled with patient reflection.

It’s definitely not for everyone. Rather than pornographic, it’s a collection of detached observations on past sexual encounters. The tales recounted aren’t for the pleasure of the reader, rather an informative tour guided by Catherine for you to experience by her side. As noted in other reviews, it can become a tad monotonous – her behaviour loses the ability to surprise once you’ve read enough of it, and after that you’re simply reading someone recall their sexual history as if it were a shopping list. 

I’ve tried to keep my opinions to the book itself, though Catherine Millet has stated a great deal of controversial opinions since its release, many of which I vehemently disagree with. The publishing of the book gave her a powerful platform to discuss Feminism, Sexuality & Sexual Violence that she didn’t have as an art critic. 

Lastly, due to reading a translation rather than original text, there is room for misinterpretation or a lack of cultural context.

Fascination

This book changed the way I looked at sex, partially because of the way Catherine viewed herself in encounters, and because I found some of the concepts she discusses fascinating. The concept she labels “couple culture” has had the largest impact on me – I think about it frequently. It comes to mind when I think about relationships in any capacity, whether my own or others and covering every aspect of a relationship, from hobbies and dining together to sexual proclivities.

“In the intimacy of our sexual lives we instigate habits and institute a code for the exclusive use of two people – a ‘couple culture’.” – Page 108

“Within a couple, each person brings with them their own fantasies and desires, and that these combine into shared habits which then modulate and adjust to each other and, depending on the extent to which each partner wants them to be realised, cross the barrier between dream and reality without losing any of their intensity. My obsession with numbers found its realisation when I practised group sex with Claude and with Eric, because that is how their desires fused with mine. On the other hand, I did not feel any frustration at never taking part in group sex with Jacques (even when he told me he had done so without me); it must simply be that that was not part of our shared sexuality” – Page 115

It felt like a moment of great realisation to me. It explained why I desired so greatly to return to the cosy shared habits of a relationship rather than try something new together, and gave me the words to say why I was happy to experience some things with one partner but not another. 

As for the way Catherine viewed herself regarding her sense of self and feelings towards her body, I enjoyed learning about such a perspective. I believe that a lack of moral judgement on the usage of the body is usually less harmful than a strict moral judgement, and she makes it abundantly clear that she has none. 

“I grew into a rather passive woman, having no goal other than those other people set for me.” – Page 32

“I was completely available: at all times and in all places, without hesitation or regret, by every one of my bodily orifices and with a totally clear conscience” – Page 46

“The image I had of my body as an integral whole with no form of hierarchy in terms of either morals nor pleasure, and each of its individual parts could, in so far was possible, be substituted for any other.” – Page 58

“I am docile not because I like submission, I have never tried to put myself in a masochistic position, but out of indifference to the use to which we put our bodies.” – Page 204 

“My body is but a mingling part of the air around it and the continuum of other bodies connected to it.” – Page 99

The sexual life of Catherine M is predominantly heterosexual, though she describes some encounters with women. I find her outlook on sexuality amusing – she’s only flexible in order to retain the title of “Most Available Person” at the orgy. There’s a beautiful paragraph about it in Unconditional Consent as Lifestyle: La Vie sexuelle de Catherine M., eloquently summed up as “when Catherine flirts with lesbianism, her voyeuristic pleasure never departs from the phallocentric gaze of heterosexual pornography.”

“I am always well aware when a woman is attracted to me, not that I have ever expected a woman to give me any pleasure. Oh, I am not denying the devastating delight of touching smooth, rounded, delicate skin which most women’s bodies offer and only a very few men’s! But I only joined in these embraces and their related fumblings so as not to break the rules of the game.” – Page 50

Repulsion 

She discusses how to lower yourself completely is to lift yourself above all prejudice. As theoretically fascinating as that is, I oftentimes found it difficult to read about her dirtier sexual locales and unhygienic partners. I understand that she is “indifferent to the use with which we put our bodies.”, but I feel that sort of thinking may be less convincing when recovering from bacterial infections, among other things. If this book is supposed to be an autobiography rather than an autofiction as proposed elsewhere, then I want to hear about STI’s and contraception more than once throughout the entire book. She mentions getting gonorrhoea from an early encounter, and the reader is left with no choice but to pretend she became completely impervious to everything else once that was cured. 

As for contraception, although she mentions an abortion near the end of the book, it’s never referenced apart from “I had asked him to switch to my arse. Such was my primitive method of contraception.” I do hope that this changed over the years, as France seems to have had a perfectly good contraceptive infrastructure during the years Catherine’s story is set. 

“To fuck above and beyond any sense of disgust was not just a way of lowering oneself, it was, in a diametrically opposite move, to raise yourself above all prejudice.” – Page 154

“I often had to hang onto the windowless door of an abandoned car or to the uprights at the opening of a pigsty, my rear end jutting out all the further as my eyes and nose struggled with the smell of putrefaction” – Page 112

Parts of this book are uncomfortable to read, judging them by my modern standards. She unfortunately uses ableist comparisons quite frequently, to illustrate things like her emotional state and behaviour. Sometimes it feels like she’s being unnecessarily provocative, as a great deal of what she says seems fine until she chooses to elaborate. I wouldn’t kinkshame her for having a degradation fantasy involving bestiality, up until she mentions her disappointment at it never becoming reality. 

Similarly, I found nothing wrong with her cleaning herself intimately with whatever was available – up to the point where she states that she’s enjoying using the items specifically because it belongs to, and becomes an extension of another. She uses words like “annexing” and “embroiling” to bring those parties into her activities, with their belongings standing in for their physical presence. Among the many things she’s indifferent to, consent seems to be one of them.

“I was still waiting to find myself under a trained dog, as Eric kept promising, but it never happened, either because the opportunity just didn’t arise or because he thought it ought to stay in the realm of fantasy” – Page 154

“Not to mention the fact we can to some extent embroil them without their knowledge by annexing their belongings into our most private spheres: a sweater they forgot which you park your buttocks on, or the hand towel in the office toilets which you use to wipe between your legs.” – Page 156

“I have never had any scruples in someone else’s bathroom about using her perfumed soap to chase away the fetid residue of the night […]. I appropriate to other people the same adherence to environment that I have myself, which makes every intimate thing – or any thing that has served an intimate purpose – a sort of extension of the body, a sensitive prosthesis. If, while someone is away, you touch something that they are close to, they themselves are involved by contiguity. ”

Final Thoughts

I can’t help but feel that the publishing of the book itself was an act of perversion, an exercise in exposure kink. In 2002, when interviewed by the Guardian, it’s mentioned that she’s been monogamous for 8 years. For someone who’s main sexual interest is group sex, I can’t imagine what that would be like. If my main interest was no longer an option, I’m sure I’d start looking for experiences that bring me similar pleasure. This quote from further into the book certainly suggests to me that she enjoys the judgemental gaze of strangers. 

“When a migraine pins me in the depths of a darkened room like this, when I don’t even have the strength to peel off the sheet impregnated with the sweat of a night and a day, and when breathing the dissipated stench of my own vomit [ . . . ]. I would like Jacques to take photographs of me at times like that, and for those to be published and seen by people who read my books and articles [ . . . ]. there would be some sense of compensation by inscribing it on the gaze of others.” – Page 147

This autobiography had the potential to damage her reputation and legacy. I think it was a brave act to publish it, and I’m glad she did as I think it’s an important book. An attitude towards sex like Catherine’s, consisting of passiveness and unconditional consent is most often seen in the male domination fantasy, rarely from the perspective of the cooperative party. It’s a helpful viewpoint to have, with it being her desire to be docile in sexual situations, and I applaud her for fulfilling it without hesitation. However, for every insightful paragraph, there’s a distasteful comment or gross recollection that I would’ve rather not read in the first place. Some of the things mentioned in the book, I think she should’ve kept to herself. 

It’s not a read for the faint hearted, as much of the book is graphic sex scenes and coarse language, but if you have an interest in autobiographies, and the way others experience sex then it can be a fascinating, memorable read. 

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