Fun Home, by Alison Bechdel:
Available at: WILLIAM ALLEN HIGH SCHOOL
Summary of Concerns:
This book contains alternate sexualities;
alternate gender ideologies; profanity;
alcohol use; suicide commentary;
inflammatory religious commentary;
sexual activities; and sexual nudity.
But would an ideal husband and father have sex with teenage boys?
There’s no proof, actually, that my father killed himself.
The illustration on the top of the page depicts a dead man, naked on a table with his chest cavity splayed open and his penis in full view.
The illustration on the middle-left-side of the page depicts the same man described above in a zoomed in view of his torso and pubic region.
My father’s death was a queer business- queer in every sense of that multivalent word.…It left me feeling qualmish, faint, and on occasion, drunk.
The illustration on the bottom-left of the page depicts a young woman with two liquor bottles in her hands, reading a book.
The illustration on the bottom-right-side of the page depicts the same individual described above, with
a small glass in her hand, drinking it.
I am a lesbian. My homosexuality remained at that point purely theoretical, an untested hypothesis.…”Your father has had affairs. With other men.” …”He…he was molested by a farm hand when he was young.”
Why had I told them? I hadn’t even had sex with anyone yet. Conversely, my father had been having sex with men for years and not telling anyone.
Later, my mother would learn that Dad and his friend had been lovers.
My realization at nineteen that I was a lesbian came about in a manner consistent with my bookish upbringing. I’d been having qualms since I was thirteen… When I first learned the word due to its alarming prominence in my dictionary.
The illustration on the top of the page depicts a young woman laying on a bed on her stomach in a profile view. She is holding a book with her right hand, as her left hand is inside the waistband of her pants. The text on the image reads: My researches were stimulating but solitary. I went to a meeting of something called the “Gay Union” which I observed in petrified silence. But my mere presence, I felt, had amounted to a public declaration. I left exhilarated.
My father called after receiving it. He seemed strangely pleased to think I was having some kind of orgy. “Everyone should experiment. It’s healthy.”
“Feminism is the theory. Lesbianism is the practice.”
The illustration on the top-right-side of the page depicts two nude women in a bed. They both have a blanket pulled up to their waist. One woman is sitting up on her elbow with her left breast exposed. The text above the image read: And by midterm I had been seduced completely.
The illustration in the middle of the page depicts two sets of legs intertwined on a bed with books strewn about them. The text above the image reads: Joan was a poet and a “matriarchist.” I spent very little of
the remaining semester outside her bed. The illustration on the bottom-left-side of the page depicts two nude women laying on their stomachs
with one woman on top of the other. The woman on top has her tongue in the other woman’s ear as the she reads from a book. The text above the image reads: I lost my bearings. The dictionary had become erotic. The woman on the bottom reads, “Os-. Mouth. Oral, oscillate, osculate, orifice…”
The illustration on the bottom-right-side of the book depicts the same individuals described above laying on their backs in bed. One of the women is reading. The text above the image reads: Some of our favorite childhood stories were revealed as propaganda. The woman reading the book says, “God. Christoph Robin’s a total imperialist!”
The illustration on the top of the page depicts the same individuals described above. One of the women is laying on her back on the bed with her knees hitched over the other woman’s shoulders whom is laying on her stomach between the other woman’s thighs. The text above the image reads: …others as pornography. In the harsh light of my dawning of feminism, everything looked different. The woman lying between the other woman’s thighs is reading, “…The walls were wet and sticky, and peach juice was dripping from the ceiling. James opened his mouth and caught some of it on his tongue.” The illustration on the middle-left-side of the page depicts the same individuals described above from
an elevated viewpoint.
The text above the image reads: This entwined political and sexual awakening was a welcome distraction. The woman is reading, “…it tasted delicious.
Proust refers to his explicitly homosexual characters as “inverts.” I’ve always been fond of this antiquated clinical term. It’s imprecise and insufficient, defining the homosexual as a person whose gender expression is at odds with his or her sex.
“This is Chumley’s. Dad and I used to come drink here.” Years lager, on an evening of bar-hopping, I entered this establishment with a gang of lesbian friends. We left, too naïve to realized we’d been eighty-sixed.
There were many such humiliations in store for me as a young lesbian. We used to hear lesbians fighting down on the street outside the bars. If her comment was an attempt to sway me from my course, it failed utterly. I became fascinated with lesbian pulp fiction from the fifties- the bar raids and the illegal cross-dressing.
And budding is the only possible word to describe the painful, itchy beginnings of my breasts, at twelve. It’s true I had not wanted to grow breasts, but it never occurred to me that they would hurt.
The illustration on the bottom-left-side of the page depicts a zoomed in view of pre-pubescent breasts. The image contains the labels: “Swollen” and “tender”. Nor had I expected them to be so oddly cartilaginous. Accidental impact was excruciating.
The illustration on the top-left-side of the page depicts a young man looking at a calendar with a nude woman on it. The nude woman’s breasts are
exposed. Once we were at the bullpen, my brothers discovered the calendar.
The illustration on the top-left-side of the page depicts two children looking at a calendar with a nude woman on it. The nude woman is in a profile
view with her left breast and buttocks exposed.
The text above the image reads: Inside I was astonished by what struck me as a bizarre
coincidence. As the man showed us around, it seemed imperative that he not know I was a girl.
He’s wearing a women’s bathing suit.
“There’s no mystery! He killed himself because he was a manic-depressive, closeted fag and he couldn’t face living in this small-minded town one more second.
“I have a right to live off you because I married you, and because I used to let you get on top of me and bump your uglies.”
The convert references to homosexuality eluded me.
“How about a gin and tonic?…” …Years later I learned
that th Gryglewiczes once made a proposition, which my parents declined, that the four of them engage in group sex.
Nor did I know that there was a word for the inevitable result of this shifting about in my chair…The impulsive spasm so staggeringly complete and perfect that for a few brief moments I could not question its inherent moral validity. When I accidentally ran across this word in the dictionary
one day, it was instantly familiar, before I even got to the definition.
The illustration on the middle of the page depicts a dictionary page zoomed onto the word “Orgasm.” The text on the image reads: I didn’t need to know phonetics to recognize the approximant liquid of that “or,” the plosive “ga,” the fricative “z,” or the labial, nasal, sigh of the final “um.”
“Dad has got to go to court in a few days, and he might lose his job. He bought a beer for a boy who wasn’t old enough.”
“Yeah, he offered me a beer once too, but I didn’t take it.” But a whiff of the sexual aroma of the true offense could be detected in the sentence.
“One day I looked at myself in the mirror and said, ‘you’re fourteen years old and you’re a faggot…” “It was probably the fist time I realized I was homosexual and I got so depressed because I thought being gay meant being a bum all the rest of my life and I said…”
Remarkably, this interview with Mr. Avery occurred on the selfsame afternoon that I realized, in the campus bookstore, that I was a lesbian.
“Contemporary and historical perspectives on homosexuality” would have had quite a legitimate ring.
“Also, it took Ulysses ten years to get home, and it’s been ten years since Bloom had sex with his wife.”
Colette could write better than anyone about physical things; they include the feel of a peach in one’s hand. A man could only write in this way about a woman’s breast.
The illustration on the bottom of the page depicts a woman lying on a bed in a profile view. She has her pants unbuttoned with her right hand inside her panties.
“I’m a lesbian.” Dad called that evening. If he had mentioned his own homosexuality at this juncture, it might have explained his oddly procuress-like tone. “At least you’re human. Everyone should experiment.”
He thought that I thought that he was queer.
Lesbian singers? These people are weird. Maybe I’m not a homo after all.
The illustration on the top of the page depicts two nude women. One of the women is lying on her back on a bed, while the other woman is lying on her stomach with her head between the other woman’s thighs. There is a shirt hanging on the wall behind them which reads “Lesbian Terrorist.” There is also a sign which reads “Keep your God off my body.”
The illustration on the bottom-left-side of the page depicts a zoomed in, profile view of the same individuals described above. The woman whose head is between the other woman’s thighs, is looking at the pubic hair of the other woman.
The illustration on the bottom-right-side of the page depicts the same individuals described above. One of the women has her mouth on the other woman’s vulva with her eyes closed. Her hands are gripping the woman’s hips.
The illustration on the top left of the page depicts the same individuals described above in a zoomed in profile view from their torsos upward. The outline of one of the women’s breasts is shown.
The illustration on the top-right-side of the page depicts the same individuals described above. One of the women is lying, propped up by her elbow, beside the other woman. The outline of her breasts are depicted.
A dad and his daughter, whom is young woman, are talking while riding in a car. The dad says, “when I was little, I really wanted to be a girl. I’d dress up in girls’ clothes.” The daughter says, “I wanted to be a boy! I dressed in boys’ clothes! Remember?”
After the movie, Dad took me to a notorious local nightspot. The front was a topless club. The back was a gay bar. “I.D.?” This might have been our circle chapter, like when Stephen and Bloom drunk at the brothel in nighttown. “I’m her father.” “Twenty-one, bud.”
The illustration on the top-left-side of the page depicts two women from a profile view. One of the women is standing in her underwear with her pants around her ankles. She is pushing down the other woman’s pants.
Rudolph Bloom, Nee Virag, had not been as resilient as his son to the strain of life in anti-semitic Dublin. He’d taken an overdose of something. But at least he’d left a letter.
Perhaps it’s just a coincidence that these women- along with sylvia’s lover Adrienne Monnier, who published the French edition of Ulysses- were all lesbians. But I like to thin, they went to the mat for this book because they were lesbians, because they knew a thing or two about the erotic truth.
Perhaps my eagerness to claim him as “gay” in the way I am “gay,” as opposed to bisexual or some other category, is just a way of keeping him to myself- an inverted Oedipal complex.
The Godfather, By Mario Puzo:
Available at: WILLIAM ALLEN HIGH SCHOOL
Summary of Concerns:
This book has very explicit sex scenes. This book is inappropriate for anyone under 18 due to graphic sexual content.
Sonny Corleone was tall for a
first-generation American of Italian parentage, almost six feet, and his crop of bushy,
curly hair made him look even taller. His face was that of a gross Cupid, the features
even but the bow-shaped lips thickly sensual, the dimpled cleft chin in some curious way
obscene. He was built as powerfully as a bull and it was common knowledge that he
was so generously endowed by nature that his martyred wife feared the marriage bed
as unbelievers once feared the rack. It was whispered that when as a youth he had
visited houses of ill fame, even the most hardened and fearless putain, after an awed
inspection of his massive organ, demanded double price.
Here at the wedding feast, some young matrons, wide-hipped, wide-mouthed, measured
Sonny Corleone with coolly confident eyes. But on this particular day they were wasting
their time. Sonny Corleone, despite the presence of his wife and three small children,
had plans for his sister’s maid of honor, Lucy Mancini. This young girl, fully aware, sat at
a garden table in her pink formal gown, a tiara of flowers in her glossy black hair. She
had flirted with Sonny in the past week of rehearsals and squeezed his hand that
morning at the altar. A maiden could do no more.
Sonny Corleone made his way to the bride’s table and sat down beside young Lucy
Mancini, the maid of honor. They were safe. His wife was in the kitchen putting the last
touches on the serving of the wedding cake. Sonny whispered a few words in the young
girl’s ear and she rose. Sonny waited a few minutes and then casually followed her, stopping to talk with a guest here and there as he worked his way through the crowd.
Hagen thought, if Sonny
was screwing the maid of honor all this time there was going to be a mess of trouble.
His wife, the young girl’s family; it could be a disaster. Anxiously he hurried to the
entrance through which he had seen Sonny disappear almost a half hour ago.
On the landing, Sonny grabbed her hand and pulled her down the hall into an
empty bedroom. Her legs went weak as the door closed behind them. She felt Sonny’s
mouth on hers, his lips tasting of burnt tobacco, bitter. She opened her mouth. At that
moment she felt his hand come up beneath her bridesmaid’s gown, heard the rustle of
material giving way, felt his large warm hand between her legs, ripping aside the satin
panties to caress her vulva. She put her arms around his neck and hung there as he
opened his trousers. Then he placed both hands beneath her bare buttocks and lifted
her. She gave a little hop in the air so that both her legs were wrapped around his upper
thighs. His tongue was in her mouth and she sucked on it. He gave a savage thrust that
banged her head against the door. She felt something burning pass between her thighs.
She let her right hand drop from his neck and reached down to guide him. Her hand
closed around an enormous, blood-gorged pole of muscle. It pulsated in her hand like
an animal and almost weeping with grateful ecstasy she pointed it into her own wet,
turgid flesh. The thrust of its entering, the unbelievable pleasure made her gasp, brought
her legs up almost around his neck, and then like a quiver, her body received the
savage arrows of his lightning-like thrusts; innumerable, torturing; arching her pelvis
higher and higher until for the first time in her life she reached a shattering climax, felt
his hardness break and then the crawly flood of semen over her thighs. Slowly her legs
relaxed from around his body, slid down until they reached the floor. They leaned
against each other, out of breath.
It might have been going on for some time but now they could hear the soft knocking on
the door. Sonny quickly buttoned his trousers, meanwhile blocking the door so that it
could not be opened. Lucy frantically smoothed down her pink gown, her eyes flickering,
but the thing that had given her so much pleasure was hidden inside sober black cloth.
Then they heard Tom Hagen’s voice, very low, “Sonny, you in there?”
Sonny sighed with relief. He winked at Lucy. “Yeah, Tom, what is it?”
Hagen’s voice, still low, said, “The Don wants you in his office. Now.” They could hear
his footsteps as he walked away. Sonny waited for a few moments, gave Lucy a hard
kiss on the lips, and then slipped out the door after Hagen.
The bluest eye, By Toni Morrison:
Available at: WILLIAM ALLEN HIGH SCHOOL
He put his head down and nibbled at the back of her leg. His mouth trembled at the firm sweetness of the flesh. He closed his eyes, letting his fingers dig
into her waist. The rigidness of her shocked body, the silence of her stunned throat, was better than Pauline’s easy laughter had been. The confused mixture of his memories of Pauline and the doing of a wild and forbidden thing excited him, and a bolt of desire ran down his genitals, giving it length, and softening the lips of his anus. Surrounding all of
this lust was a border of politeness. He wanted to fuck her—tenderly. But the tenderness would not hold. The tightness of her vagina was more than he could bear. His soul seemed to slip down to his guts and fly out into her, and the gigantic thrust he made into her then provoked the only sound she made—a hollow suck of air in the back of her throat. Like the rapid loss of air from a circus balloon. Following the disintegration—the falling away—of sexual desire, he was conscious of her wet, soapy hands on his wrists, the fingers clenching, but whether her grip was from
a hopeless but stubborn struggle to be free, or from some other emotion, he could not tell. Removing himself from her was so painful to him he cut it short and snatched his genitals out of the dry harbor of her
vagina. She appeared to have fainted. Cholly stood up and could see only her grayish panties, so sad and limp around her ankles. Again the hatred mixed with tenderness. The hatred would not let him pick her up, the tenderness forced him to cover her
And since he was too diffident to confront homosexuality, and since little boys were insulting,
scary, and stubborn, he further limited his interests to little girls. They were usually manageable and frequently seductive.
The little girls. The little girls are the only things I’ll miss. Do you know that when I touched their sturdy little tits and bit them—just a little—I felt I was being friendly? I didn’t want to kiss their mouths or sleep in the bed with them or take a child bride for my own. Playful, I felt, and friendly. Not like the newspapers said. Not like the people whispered. And they didn’t mind at all. Not at all. Remember how so many of them came back? No one would even try to understand that. If I’d been hurting them, would they have come back? Two of them, Doreen and Sugar Babe, they’d come together. I gave them mints, money, and they’d eat ice cream with their legs open while I played with them. It was like a party. And there wasn’t nastiness, and there wasn’t any filth, and there wasn’t any odor, and there wasn’t any groaning—just the light white laughter of little girls and me.
BEYOND MAGENTA, by Susan Kuklin
This book is available at Trexler Middle School
Strong sexually explicit content includes pedophilia, which is still a crime in the USA.
The 2014 book, Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out, features first-person interviews with six transgender or gender-neutral young adults conducted by US author Susan Kuklin.
This book contains Descriptions of violent behavior, graphic sexual content and pedophilia.
This includes pushing over a pregnant teacher and justifying that behavior (pg 119).
This book also contains graphic descriptions of oral sex being given by children as young as 6 years old. “From six up, I used to kiss other guys in my neighborhood, make out with them, and perform oral sex on them. I liked it. I used to love oral. And I touched their you-know-what’s. We were really young but that’s what we did.” -pg 113.
“This guy got me to perform oral sex on him. I thought I was doing the right thing by performing on him. But I Wasn’t. He was just abusing me. He had total mind control over me………. We finally got caught in the act, and I was very happy because I wanted it to stop. I think the directors were worried that they could get sued because they kept telling me in was consensual. It wasn’t consensual at all” (pg 122)
On page 123 it talks about 14-year-old Mariah being asked by a 17-year-old student for oral sex. The passage reads “well, one time he approached me. He said I’m told you’re really good at head. I was freaked out. I was excited. I was like oh my god. He said Well why don’t you do that on me. I said I would, but I have to go to work right now. When I come back, I will do it” (pg 123-124)
TTYL by Lauren Myracle
This Book is Available at William Allen High School, Francis D. Raub Middle School
Pg.7 our seats are right next to each other, and tonight when I do my homework, I’m gonna fantasize about his summer sausage nudge nudge wink wink.
Did he stare at your boobs? Who Mr. age? Maddie and I had him for journalism last year, and he was always staring at some girl’s boobs, mostly Maddy’s. He makes a big deal of being a Christian, but what that means is that he’s majorly sexually repressed. Whereas I, on the other hand, I’m not sexually repressed at all. Speaking of better start practicing for Rob. Bye
Pg.11 well she said that Margaret… Her… Ejaculates. Well, actually she said she squirts when she comes. And then she was like, shit, I can’t believe I told you.
Pg.14 In other words he stared at your boobs and lectured you about the sins of your body? No that’s not at all what happened. Pg. 15 Like he didn’t want her to get herpes of the mouth or anything. She said he got a total Stiffie while they were talking, she said it was hysterical.
Pg.23 Did he bite his lower lip? No, but he bit mine! The boy can kiss!
Pg.28 I’ve got another meeting with Mr. H tomorrow and I’m kind of freaking. I really wanna impress them. No sweat. Just wear tight shirt and I’ll give you, my name. Wanna let me one of yours? Sure! I was kidding Angela. Hey if you’ve got it flaunt it that’s what my mom says that’s sick.
Pg.33 Back scratching trains is how Christian boys cop a feel.
Pg. 34 & 35 still talking about an affair between Zoe and her teacher Mr. H even though it’s not really happening.
Pg.39 I think he may be the one. The one what? The one I go all the way with! Making love with Rob would be amazing, I just know it. And how, exactly, do you know it? Cuz at least I’ve done more than kiss a guy, that’s hell.
Pg. 40 skank
Pg.45 & 49 superficial psycho-slut
Pg. 46 at least she cut back on the devirginization business
Pg. 52 you’re comparing me to a chick who doesn’t shave your pubes?
Pg. 59 Zoe, or Angela and I going to have to hire a D programmer to come rescue from some cabin? Are you going to become Mr. H’s love slave?
Pg. 60 Did I tell you I saw Rob grab Tonnie’s ass on the way to the keg?
Pg.68 when Carl Balkin Was sitting in the back guffawing with his buds about all the action, he got with some freshman check.
PG. 78 and 79 saw you at Carl’s party with Rob did you get some? Get some what? What do you think? And then she goes or was it Tonie who got lucky?
PG. 93 and 94 talking about Mr. H again
Pg.139 He still hasn’t he’s like a snuggle king, which is nice, but I’m ready for more. I’m a growing girl. I have needs, dammit! Or put on crotchless panties and do a lap dance for him. I know that makes me sound like a slut and I really don’t mean it like that.
Pg. 149 talking about their Halloween costumes and Angela is going to be a dust bunny and Zoe says OMG only you would find a way to sex up a dust bunny. Angela says hey there big boy wants me to nibble your carrot. Then Zoe tells me to gorgeous trick-or-treater hey there big boy want me to give you jock itch? Angela says mall doesn’t offer as many opportunities for seduction, that’s true. Perhaps if you offered to Itch his Jock.
Pg.156 oh you wouldn’t like it. What about when Margaret called you a lezbo. Margaret called Jenne a lezbo? I wasn’t there but apparently it was in PE one day last week. Jenne was strutting around the locker room, I guess she was naked, and Margaret asked if she was a lesbian. And it made everyone crack up. Jenne said oh sweet, coming from you. You’re the biggest lezbo around, always staring at me and laughing at everything I say.
Pg.160 except I hadn’t heard the lesbo remark, which kind of throws a new spin on things. Well, yeah. I’m talking about the whole shirt thing. Because if Janna wanted to get back at Maddie, you think she do something that didn’t involve, like, a girl doing a striptease. Because what does that say about Janna you know?
Pg.164 and they can call each other lezbo‘s all day long if that’s what gets them off.
Pg.172 Talking about Mr. H again. Well, did you have any romantic moments? Meaningful glances, knee touches, that sort of thing? She explained how they talked and then Angela says verbal foreplay. Then Zoe says, he did mention that he’s housesitting for Greg Kravitz parents and that there’s an outdoor hot tub. He kind of hinted around that maybe I could come over one night, and we could gaze at the stars. Angela says in a hot tub, in your bathing suit or maybe in your Nudie pants.
Pg.173 it’s November of course your pal. I am too, although it hardly matters since I’m not going hot tubbing with my lusty young buck of an English teacher. But we haven’t even discussed your thong possibilities! Yikes, you better start doing your butt exercises.
Pg.176 Janna sent pictures. She sent out an email with pictures from that frat party. They were of Maddie dancing on the table, and she was naked from the waist up. Shit. Someone took pictures. Apparently so. And apparently it was Jenne the subject line was lezbo slut.
Pg.182 Zoe was talking to Mr. H about the hot tub, and he says you can wear your bikini. Zoe is talking to Angela at first, I thought he was just teasing me, and I said, yeah, right, me in a bikini. Wouldn’t that be a lovely site. His eyes kind a dipped over my body, and he said, it would indeed be a lovely site. I’ve been looking forward to it. Zoe, you have got to get over this humble pie thing and open your eyes. He is hitting on you. Mr. H is hitting on you.
Pg.184 did you hear what happened in 6th period How Brandt Sims offered her 10 bucks for a peep show?
Pg. 186 Talking about Mr. H again he whispered that he liked my dress he was getting a sparkling apple juice and strawberries and chocolate. Only I’m pretty sure I don’t want to go anymore.
Pg.188 if I hear one more joke about Maddie and the gold club or Maddie charging admission or Maddie being a titty tease, I’m going to scream.
Pg.197 talking about Mr. H again Maddie and Angela rescue Zoe at the hot tub. Mr. H was in speedo ‘s and moving in close to Zoe when they showed up.