Bonk

I don't know what it says about me that I found Bonk much more cringeworthy gross than Stiff or Gulp. But it's true. I found myself crossing my legs and making uncomfortable faces more than laughing guiltily through it, like I did through Mary Roach's other work. Perhaps part of that is that the lurid fascination with sex in society meant that a lot of her insights were less novel than in her other books. Perhaps Roach had not yet found her narrative voice. Perhaps I wasn't in the right mood.

Nonetheless, Bonk is a decent book and would perhaps be even more well-liked by those new to Roach's work, with preset high standards. Roach certainly knows no limits in taking an active role in journalism, going so far as participating in a study on 3-D ultrasounds during intercourse. But I agree with my goodreads friends, who felt like Bonk had fewer “Wow!” moments than Roach's other works.