The Disciplined Daughter by Kipp Cameron (Dansk Blue #BB-179, 1972)

The ebook version of this novel is available for a cheap download here.

Jodie Hamilton is a 17-year-old Beverly Hills high school student who has a bad night at the prom — Tony the Latino lover tried to rape her, ripped her dress, chewed on her nipples, but she gets away…and she has to walk home, so she gets in late.

Her father has been waiting up for her.  Seeing her ripped dress and the teeth marks on her nipples, he assumes she’s been whoring around “with that Mexican” rather than listening to her story of being sexually assaulted; he proceeds to whip her breasts with his belt, creating welts that erase the teeth marks, and then giving her bottom a good beating. When she asks her Daddy why he’s doing this, he says, “Because you’re an icon to me, of what a pure and clean girl should be.”  He then checks her between the legs to make sure she’s still “cherry.”

Poor Jodie has been victimized twice in one day. She calls Uncle Dick, her hippy uncle in Hollywood, to tell him about it. He says, “Get over here now.”  Jodie has held secret sexual longings for her outcast uncle since she was a little girl, having fantasies that he would molest her.  The Beverly Hills Hamiltons have written him off as a nutcase who spews poetry and wears his hair long and smokes reefer madness…

So she goes to live with the appropriately named Uncle Dick and soon has many incestuous and adventurous sexual experiences, opening her up to a whole new world of free love…quite similar to Terry Southern’s Candy, who runs away from home because of an abusive father and has a series of coming-of-age sexual adventures.

But Candy was satire, a bite at 1960s conformity and mores. The Disciplined Daughter is just crass 1970s smut. There are some insightful passages here and there, but for the most part it’s junk. And yet entertaining junk nonetheless.

The funniest part is, like many of these books, has a faux medical and social redeemed foreword — this was to keep the obscenity lawsuits away, to declare that the lurid story has a moral, psychological, and social value to it.

Passion Alley by Andrew Shaw (Lawrence Block), Nightstand Book #1611, 1962

Block was (and perhaps still is) at his best when writing in the first-person, whether his narrators are criminals, lost young men, con artists, burglars, hit men or private eyes.

Such is the case with Passion Alley, the story of Jack Edwards’ downward spiral after being kicked out of college (it’s also interesting to read a “sex” book from 1962, after Block started to come into his own, publishing under his own name at Gold Medal, like with Mona and others).

Jack is a little older than your usual undergrad, 23, having served in Korea and hitching onto the G.I. Bill.  Block adds an interesting aside about how the college campuses of the U.S. changed after Korea, when all these battle-hard young men began to mix in with the soft rich kids and intellectuals who were worlds apart from the battlefield.  Jack is also in an upper-crust fraternity, only because he’s a good football player, and the football team is important to the college.  A teammate gets killed one game, and Jack punches out the other player at a frat dance party, which causes a scandal and gets Jack the boot.

Before leaving for New York, Jack talks his girl into giving him her virginity, promising to marry her, and leaving her in the morning a ruined girl, his final act of defiance against the conservative social and political environment that has always treated him like a slug, a guy without a rich family, a grunt on the G.I. Bill.

He heads to New York because he has a notion–like a number of Block’s male characters, such as in Shame Dame–of becoming a writer.  New York is the place to go, right?