I have finished the Victorian porn. It was... well, it was a fascinating read. It was enlightening, and hilarious, and sometimes pretty goddamn hot. So, all in all, worth buying. I regret nothing. I fear no shame.

Fun fact: because of the way I sort my books, it ends up on the same shelf as Doyle.

The last part of the book is dedicated to porny letters to the editor, and a column called "Dear Doctor Jonathan," a sexual advice column spliced with a side of Dear Penthouse. Basically, a small porny story followed by questions about people's sexual worries. Which Dr Jonathan then answers.

Apparently, the Oyster maintained during its run that all letters printed in its magazine were from genuine readers.

( The best things. But oh, it's filthy. Some good advice, and the most inexplicable thing I've ever seen in erotica. )