In COVID isolation and very sad, I decided to re-read X, Davey Davis’ new novel. They had generously sent me an advance copy months ago that I read with anticipated fury as soon as it landed at my doorstep. I didn’t have the energy then to give it the proper review it deserved. I don’t know if this is the review it deserves (I know my strengths), but do I hope my earnest excitement will suffice!!
If you’ve been following along, you may already know that Davey is my friend. We met during Folsom years ago when they still lived in Oakland. I have fond memories of that weekend—swarming Gayle Rubin like she was Justin Bieber and we were twelve year old girls after an arena concert in 2012. Except it was a small event at The Stud about The Catacombs. Dr. Rubin, who has written extensively about The Catacombs, was both the keynote and DJ. She was wearing a red paisley necktie and was gracious about us praising her like some kind of a dyke rock star. She even took a photo with us youngsters, fisting hands in the air.
Like me, Davey also appreciates SM scholarship of both the academic and corporeal kind. It will be obvious to leather queers that X was written by a brilliant writer who also happens to be a heavy player. The first time I read X, I couldn’t put it down. In my recent den of plague isolation, I was able to slow down and savor my second reading. Highlighting paragraph after paragraph, I found it even more captivating this time around. It’s an incredibly romantic, nihilistic mystery novel full of sadomasochism and extremely specific queer humor—still laughing over the protagonist calling themself a Dobermxn. A novel written for leatherdykes, by a leatherdyke. I’m trying to think: When was the last time this happened?
SM fiction, non-fiction, and even academic studies are almost always centered around masochists. We all love the pain sluts but let’s face it, they are over-represented. I’ve written about this before. X drops a large weight on the sadist side of the scales. This being my lane, it’s a big deal and the focus of this review. The fictional protagonist Lee is probably someone you’ve met before if you’ve been in the scene long enough. They’re a perfect caricature of the Brooklyn-white-masc-sadist-asshole that gets a lot of play. Lee is kind of a terrible person who uses their charm and top appeal to get what they want, but yet they still have lines they won’t cross. They reminded me a lot of Dexter in the way that sure he kills people, but he abides by the code.
I can picture Davey clicking away at their laptop thinking to themself, What are all the hot things a sadist who is bad for me might say to me? Thus, Lee is a sadistic romantic who constantly says things like “I bet she has a nice scream.” Completely relatable! For Lee’s one year anniversary with their girlfriend, they give her a vision board of how they would plan her funeral, something they decided on shortly after they met. After they give her the gift, they cut their initials into her. There’s an entire paragraph of them talking about how beautiful her blood is. The romance! Why hadn’t I thought of this?!?!
The novel follows Lee as they hunt through the Brooklyn queer scene for X, a “femdom nightmare” that they let top them. The problem is that X, along with all other undesirables, is being asked to “export” or leave the country. Even though Lee is a strict top, we can assume that their hunger to reconnect with X is based on her skill and ability to make nihilistic Lee actually feel something. Throughout this main plot we are also transported to Lee’s childhood with a neglectful, alcoholic mother, and given a tour of past sadistic exploits and present day relationships.
The text is sprinkled with tales of ex-girlfriends that are both extremely sexy and give the reader insight into what kind of a person Lee really is. Davey writes Lee with this code so it provides readers like me, also into SM, a level of ambiguity that gives pause and almost manipulates, “Wait a second, is this top actually that bad?” While the novel never explicitly mentions consent as we have come to expect from truly responsible SM media*, the subtext is everywhere. The scenes are written in a way that I understand (most of) what Lee does to be a consenting part of their SM relationships. “You know your word,” Lee says to their girlfriend, reminding her to use her safeword. The bottoms Lee hurts also give away that they are totally on board with being hurt. One lover, admiring the backs of her legs covered in bruises says, “I look better this way.”
So, what exactly is their sadist’s code? It’s never explicitly defined but we are given glimpses through Lee’s extremely messy hookup history. Lee’s introduction to SM is with their first girlfriend, before they know their desires have a name or even a sociality. Like many of us, they used to hurt each other without knowing what they were doing. Lee narrowly escapes manslaughter during a rope scene where their girlfriend stops breathing. Later, they meet a domme named May who teaches them everything they know, including the very important skill of keeping bottoms alive. “We hurt, not harm,” May councils.
Lee’s code includes the most basic: do not fuck with people who are too intoxicated to consent. They teach a humorous life lesson to a brat in how to ask for what they want. They never do anything they don’t want to do. They take vetting seriously, “I never cut up someone I can’t trust.” And lastly, it’s very important to them that the fear is genuine. “Personally, I prefer it when they struggle. I like to see faces and hear sounds. If a girl faked an orgasm with me, that would be one thing; if she faked a scream, it might break my heart.”
X was a delight to read, both times. I’ve never read a book where I felt so seen and understood as a sadist dyke. Davey weaves gothic romance into the sadistic and perverted, almost reminiscent of classic vampire horror. The characters engaging in SM aren’t conflicted by its violence because it gives them life; they know what they want and go after it. This is when I get emotional thinking about creating the types of media that need to exist, the things that make queer perverts feel less alone, showing that this lifestyle is possible.
I had this fantasy of twenty or thirty years from now, Davey is invited to a leatherdyke event at a dive bar during Folsom to talk about the influence of their novel, X. I hope that after they give their talk, a gang of screaming leather clad fangirls rushes up to them asking to take photos and, most importantly, thanking them for the legacy of this work.
There’s so much more I could say about X, but it just came out and I don’t want to give any big spoilers. Do me a favor—when you read it please let me know if you’d let Lee top you (no judgment).
*Noting my own sarcasm just in case! Not all SM media needs to teach or be the most positive representation of consent, we don’t expect that of vanilla sex! I do appreciate how these elements can be expertly woven in so that it’s not slamming you over the head or appearing to virtue signal. Needless to say, X does this very well.
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