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Anthony Valerio
New Book launch--Tuesday FebruARY 6M 2024.
Just in. About Valerio's Confessions Professor Nerenberg says:
"These confessions, mine, Walter Michael Gregory's, center on the interstices between soft and hard literary porn as they were known in the 1960s and 70s."
 This is the kernel of Anthony Valerio's salty and sweet, romping short book, Confessions of an Aspiring Pornographer. Trying to survive as a writer in New York City, Wally joins Ern Billions, Bonita Guggenheim, and Tad Browning as a staff writer at Porn/Prose, where, on spec and on commission, they write porn for hire. And "for hire" is part of the title of the pseudonymous Wally's best-known effort, This Body for Hire, which also has a place within the pages of Valerio's Confessions. Things are hard and soft in so many ways and directions. Among the hard are the winter of 1979, the rules of copyediting that Wally learns at Ern's knee, the lead of the Number 2 pencils he uses to ply his trade as a writers and editor, the concept of one-way staircase that disappears behind anyone who climbs it, the black laces of Sister Morisella's hard-soled black shoes. Among the soft we can group the heart of Anonymous, the hooker Wally invents as the first-person narrator of This Body for Hire, the pillowy arms and bosoms of the women his single mom Caroline surrounds herself with, the rounded characters of the notes Caroline the wordless uses to express herself. Pastiche reigns supreme as genre in this book that pivots between hard and soft, between first and third person narrator, between the writing hand and sober, dignified copyeditor's font and type. Delightful and witty, Confessions of an Aspiring Pornographer is unafraid to own its Times Square-in-the-1970s setting.
Prof. E. Nerenberg, Wesleyan University

Review of Confessions

The Semmelweis Project

image of a hand sanitizer with female sign, created by Dave Barry
image Semmelweis, the Women's Doctor, created by Dave Barry

you hear about post partum book completion depression, at least this writer feels it now. Spinning an important tragic yarn like Semmelweis with years of energy, belief, good will, extention into the universe, and then, one day, stop, the way the new mothers who contracted childbed fever, which  causes and mean of prevention he would discover, those mothers' hearts stopped, and sometimes their newborns, too, their breathes ceased and, in the end, Semmelweil went mad, some say from persecution, others late-stage syphillis, still others by infecting himself, running into a surgical theater which location he was able to recall, and cutting himself  then immersing his bare bloddy hands deep into the corpse. In all likelihood, this feeling could arise also after writing a comedy, a musical.

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