Authors
Alexandros
Carmine
Melanie Abrams
Julius Addlesee
Shelley Aikens
A. Aimee
Jeanne Ainslie
Fredrica Alleyn
Rebecca Ambrose
Diane Anderson-Minshall
Laura Antoniou
Janine Ashbless
Lisette Ashton
Gavin Atlas
Danielle Austen
J. P. Beausejour
P.K. Belden
Tina Bell
Jove Belle
Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore
Ronica Black
Candace Blevins
Primula Bond
Lionel Bramble
A. J. Bray
Samantha Brook
Matt Brooks
Zetta Brown
James Buchanan
Louisa Burton
Angela Campion
Angela Caperton
Annabeth Carew
Julia Chambers
Dale Chase
M. Christian
Greta Christina
Valentina Cilescu
Rae Clark
NJ Cole
Christina Crooks
Julius Culdrose
Portia da Costa
Alan Daniels
Angraecus Daniels
Dena De Paulo
Vincent Diamond
Susan DiPlacido
Noelle Douglas-Brown
Hypnotic Dreams
Amanda Earl
Hank Edwards
Jeremy Edwards
Stephen Elliott
Madelynne Ellis
Justine Elyot
Aurelia T. Evans
Lucy Felthouse
Jesse Fox
I. G. Frederick
Simone Freier
Louis Friend
Polly Frost
William Gaius
Bob Genz
Shanna Germain
J. J. Giles
Lesley Gowan
K D Grace
K. D. Grace
Sacchi Green
Ernest Greene
Tamzin Hall
R. E. Hargrave
P. S. Haven
Trebor Healey
Vicki Hendricks
Scott Alexander Hess
Richard Higgins
Julie Hilden
E. M. Hillwood
Amber Hipple
William Holden
Senta Holland
David Holly
Michelle Houston
Debra Hyde
M. E. Hydra
Vina Jackson
Anneke Jacob
Maxim Jakubowski
Kay Jaybee
Ronan Jefferson
Amanda Jilling
SM Johnson
Raven Kaldera
J. P. Kansas
Kevin Killian
D. L. King
Catt Kingsgrave
Kate Kinsey
Geoffrey Knight
Varian Krylov
Vivienne LaFay
Teresa Lamai
Lisa Lane
Randall Lang
James Lear
Amber Lee
Nikko Lee
Tanith Lee
Annabeth Leong
James W. Lewis
Marilyn Jaye Lewis
Ashley Lister
Fiona Locke
Clare London
Scottie Lowe
Simon Lowrie
Catherine Lundoff
Michael T. Luongo
Jay Lygon
Helen E. H. Madden
Nancy Madore
Jodi Malpas
Jeff Mann
Alma Marceau
Sommer Marsden
Gwen Masters
Sean Meriwether
Bridget Midway
I. J. Miller
Madeline Moore
Lucy V. Morgan
Julia Morizawa
David C. Morrow
Walter Mosley
Peggy Munson
Zoe Myonas
Alicia Night Orchid
Craig Odanovich
Cassandra Park
Michael Perkins
Christopher Pierce
Lance Porter
Jack L. Pyke
Devyn Quinn
Cameron Quitain
R. V. Raiment
Shakir Rashaan
Jean Roberta
Paige Roberts
Sam Rosenthal
D. V. Sadero
C Sanchez-Garcia
Lisabet Sarai
R Paul Sardanas
R. Paul Sardanas
Elizabeth Schechter
Erica Scott
Kemble Scott
Mele Shaw
Simon Sheppard
Tom Simple
Talia Skye
Susan St. Aubin
Charlotte Stein
C. Stetson
Chancery Stone
Donna George Storey
Darcy Sweet
Rebecca Symmons
Mitzi Szereto
Cecilia Tan
Lily Temperley
Vinnie Tesla
Claire Thompson
Alexis Trevelyan
Alison Tyler
Gloria Vanderbilt
Vanessa Vaughn
Elissa Wald
Saskia Walker
Kimberly Warner-Cohen
Brian Whitney
Carrie Williams
Peter Wolkoff
T. Martin Woody
Beth Wylde
Daddy X
Lux Zakari
Fiona Zedde
Aphrodite OverboardAphrodite Overboard
By: R. V. Raiment
Velluminous Press
ISBN: 1905605048
April, 2006





Reviewed By: Ashley Lister

Sex and the sea have always had a strong association with each other, and not just because of the fishy smell.

I went on a cruise recently and I have to admit there was something inherently arousing about the whole experience. I’d watched "Titanic" before embarking on the journey. Watching apposite disaster movies before travelling is a superstitious ritual that I perform before trying any new form of transportation. I’ll sit through "Final Destination Two" before I go on a long car journey. I have to watch "Cast Away" (for the aeroplane scene) before I take a flight. And I needed to watch "Titanic" before I set foot onboard our holiday cruise liner.

And the movie turned out to be an informative experience. I learnt that the correct term for my accommodation was “steerage.” I played that game Kate Winslett taught to Leonardo DiCaprio (where you spit on the heads of people walking on lower decks) and thought it was a little like “Pooh Sticks” but with phlegm and irate sailors.

And I discovered that the reality of the sea is just as sexy as its Hollywood and fictional counterparts. Obviously "Titanic" was a sexy movie (Kate Winslett spits, Leonardo DiCaprio goes down, etc) all of which is only mentioned for cheap gags and to confirm my original assertion that the sea and ocean travel are incredibly sexy.

Which is probably why R.V. Raiment starts Aphrodite Overboard on a boat. There are few things more sexually exciting than the anticipation of travel, the thrill of exploring new shores, and the old world charm that comes from using such an anachronistic mode of transportation.

Technically, Aphrodite Overboard doesn’t actually start onboard a boat. The framed narrative presents the manuscript as having been found in the bottom of a sea chest, the personal memoirs of Susanna, Lady F, offered to the reader by one of the protagonist’s forebears. But the story proper begins in Chapter the First, when Susanna encounters “an ugly little man and an ugly little ship.” And, as this beginning sets the stylish tone for the remainder of the narrative, it seems appropriate to mention the nautical theme.

Not that Aphrodite Overboard is all about sailors and seamen. The first chapter includes a ship going down, Susanna getting rescued, Susanna going down, and then Susanna finding refuge on an idyllic tropical island. Which is where her adventures really start.

And I really have to ask at this point: what’s not to love about this book?

There is something innately endearing about the style of a Victorian novel. Usually, the inherent charm comes from learning to hear the distinctive timbre of the narrator’s voice and that’s an absolute delight with this story. The pleasure of that artifice is invariably compounded in erotic novels of that period as the reader is politely introduced to the very unvictorian concept of the characters possessing genitalia and daring to break societal protocols by doing things with them. And, R.V. Raiment has kept true to the period language in this story by chatting freely about bubbies, cunnies and manhoods.

That last sentence is probably a little misleading. R.V. Raiment doesn’t “chat freely” about those various parts of the anatomy. Each time Susanna refers to a cunny or a manhood, R.V Raiment has written the prose so eloquently you can almost hear those forbidden words being whispered naughtily from behind a discreet hand covering the lips of his narrator. It is probably this secretly prurient voice that lends the story its authentic feel and inescapable charm.

Now, call me old fashioned and remind me I need to get a life but, if I was ever sad enough to compile a list of my favourite words, “cunnie” would be somewhere near the top. Compared to its contemporarily more popular etymological cousin, “cunnie” lacks the harsh and vulgar sound of “cunt.” Cunnie is almost sufficiently twee and inoffensive to be the name a small child would give to a pet hamster.

“I had two hamsters as a child: Bubbies and Cunnie.” (Actually, this isn’t true. My pet hamsters were called Funbags and Minge, but I’m sure I would have been a happier pet owner if they had been called Bubbies and Cunnie.)

None of which has much to do with Aphrodite Overboard but I mention it because the language in this book is so thoroughly entertaining.

As I said before, R V Raiment has cleverly packaged this epistolary tale as the fresh found memoirs of a long lost grandparent. Susanna’s manuscript is filled with the typical twists and turns of the Victorian novel. But the work is written by a contemporary author with more than enough wit and style to keep the narrative interesting and compelling for a modern day reader. The sex scenes are arousing and extremely well written. Even as the story progresses toward its denouement, and the bump-and-grind should have become dull or commonplace, Susanna’s distinctive voice maintains the shocked innocence and wonder that seems quite proper for the tone of this time period.

The story opens with Susanna’s own introduction to her memoirs:

“I begin, knowing that what I write may never be read…”

I only repeat this line because I think it would be a terrible shame for any aficionado of the eloquence and artistry of Victorian erotica to not read Aphrodite Overboard.