Review: The Sluts by Dennis Cooper

We've all been on an online forum at least once.

Personally, I used to frequent Reddit quite a bit a few years ago. I'd normally be seeking out any r/askreddit thread I could find that involved crime or unexplained happenings, it was a quick and easy way to frighten myself without subjecting myself to more extreme content. I was a wimp back then, what can I say?

Now and then though, I'd discover a comment that would make me freeze, something that would haunt me. A woman who suspected her husband of drugging her. A man who noticed he wasn't the sole resident of his home. A confession of murder with details that should not have been known to the public.

I'd try to investigate. I'd check on their other replies, read through their other posts, and Google keywords. I wanted to know if these claims were real. I wanted my fears justified and my curiosity sated. Was it a troll? A failed attempt at an ARG? More often than not, it was a dead end. The accounts would be deleted. The user would be banned. End of story. They would return to their anonymity and be reduced to simply a footnote in the back of my mind.

"There were warning signs everywhere but Brad was so hot that I just ignored them." (Cooper)

Dennis Cooper's "The Sluts" is the type of book that can only be described as an experience. Released in 2004, it follows the story of a troubled teenage prostitute Brad, as told by second-hand accounts taken from forums, back pages, phone calls, and emails. Beginning with a few odd client reviews and a warning from the webmaster: "Until further notice, I strongly advise all of you to stay clear of Brad".

From there it only grows in absurdity and horror. As individuals from Brad's past begin to emerge to tell their stories, so too do past and present clients, pimps, internet investigators, porn actors, and men with tastes too lurid to name. What follows is a damning critique of our culture's devouring of real-life torment as content, and how twisted the web becomes when information is relayed through a glorified game of telephone. “[..] look at this tangle of thorns.” has never been more apt.

Upon my first reading, it was the format that struck me outright. Telling a narrative through backroom reviews and message boards is such an intelligent choice for this work. It immerses you within the seedy community immediately. Throughout, I found myself scanning the pages for familiar names, and descriptions, sniffing out inconsistencies, anything, to get a handle on what was happening.

As mentioned earlier, my reading experience felt similar to the discovery of a horrifying Reddit post, the rush of rapidly reading the comments, waiting on updates, and looking to other users to discern whether it's real or a troll. The mystery relies on audience participation. And participate they do.

"It sounds frightening, and it was, but it was also incredibly hot to see a boy that cute lose control." (Cooper)

Exploitation is a core theme of The Sluts, the story wouldn’t function without it.

Brad is introduced to us as a teen, beautiful and youthful, and passing for underage, much to the delight of his clients. But, along with this, he is tremendously mentally ill. A danger to himself and others. Violent and erratic with an unknown history.

That’s his allure. The contradiction of beauty and youth with decay and danger. He is described as willing to do quite literally anything. Passive, empty, and seeking to fill the void. First with drugs, then with sex. 

Brad acts as a character, both in our world and in the sorid world of "The Sluts". Both real and not. Alive and dead. Brad becomes whatever they need him to be. The perfect escort, offering up both his life and body for the pleasure of others. It's this desire to own and to shape that attracts his more predatory admirers.

"All the time his cute boy face looked at me with his mouth wide open and made these sounds like he was scared to death and turned on at the same time." (Cooper)

Brad becomes a sort of celebrity within the forum, with lore and fans and imitators. Forums are formed. Lines are irrevocably crossed.

They are vultures, trying to make sense of the carnage in front of them, hungry and wanting for more no matter the cost of the real human being involved. And still, these characters believe they care about Brad, they believe that they can provide him with what he requires, and it's this care exactly that unsettles the reader.

They invade his story, get involved, offer him shelter, offer him companionship, and contact his family and friends and clients. The speculation over the Brad Saga is almost as erotic as the boy himself. A tale full of blood and sex and snuff that's too forbidden to ignore, so they feed into it. Help it fester. It's then that the story grows too large for the web and begins to spill over into real life.

It's appropriate, I think, that I began my first reading this year, considering the recent conversations being had about those who create true crime content for entertainment and profit. With the criticism being brought forward about the risks of internet speculation in our current age, it gave me so much more to appreciate about Cooper's writing here. That a book that was published during the dawn of social networking was capable of being so incredibly accurate, still, surprised me.

I've been in both kink and true crime forums that have played host to alarmingly similar comment threads. Threads that took sleuthing to the point of delusion and harassment, took roleplaying into the realm of reality. The commenters got off on the pain and discomfort of the people around them, "research" was a competition and pain was a sport. They crafted their own narratives around cases, desperate to be involved in the turmoil. Not to the level of the novel, of course, but it was familiar.

That's the horror at the core of this book for me, the familiarity. I could be Brad. I could know Brad. I could be one of those commenters or reporters. I've met a Brian and I could meet worse, too.

"The Sluts" remains timeless in a way that unsettles me, disturbing in a way that sticks. It makes one confront our participation in these online events, the witch hunts and sensationalist behaviour that provoke real-world harm.

Human nature encourages us to become gawkers and bystanders and willing participants in our degradation. Nothing online is real. Debase yourself for money. Maim for pleasure. Rip yourself apart at the seems to feel anything at all. Bread and circuses.