All the Dirty Parts was an extremely fast and extremely fun read for me. The day I started it, I was reading it on the elevator en route to work, and a woman who I don’t know/who works elsewhere in the building asked what I was reading and how it was. I think I said it was funny, which it was, at that moment, but that is not, overall, a word I would use to describe this book. I also added that it was “by the guy who writes as Lemony Snicket, you know, the kids’ books, but this is not for kids.” I don’t know that I’d recommend All the Dirty Parts to that woman on the elevator without knowing anything about her, but if you are OK with reading a whole lot of explicit teenage sex scenes and are into stories told as a series of vignettes, this might be the book for you. One of the back cover blurbs is by Jenny Offill, and I can see how people who liked Dept. of Speculation might like this book, too: I definitely enjoyed them both.

So, right: All the Dirty Parts is pretty much what the title says, though it’s not only the dirty parts, just mostly. It’s narrated by Cole, a seventeen-year-old boy who runs cross-country and takes art class and sometimes fails tests and thinks about sex basically always. When the book opens, he’s slept with eleven girls, and has “a rep” around school for being into casual hookups. He’s eloquent about sex, about the delight of it and the hotness of it and the occasional humor of it and the way he constantly wants it. His eloquence feels more adult than adolescent, but I was willing to give the narrative the benefit of the doubt, particularly because it results in some lovely descriptions, like when Cole is talking about pretty girls and how he wants “to capture their whole bodies under a blanket with enough light to see the pleasure of what we are doing” (3).

I like all the little bits that make up this narrative, the way the story unfolds: Cole talking about sharing online porn with his best friend, Alec, and the unspoken code they have about it; Cole’s conversations with a female friend about sex and his rep and how he treats girls; Cole’s thoughts on the Kinsey scale, after he and Alec have messed around a bit; Cole meeting a girl, Grisaille, who wants sex as much as he does, and how he feels when he’s in the unfamiliar position of being more into the other person than the other person is into him. I like that Cole is knowledgable about sex, that he talks about things like knowing where a clitoris is and going down on girls; I like that Grisaille puts her own pleasure first sometimes. I really like the way the sentences flow, the way the tone is easy and conversational, like in this bit where Cole and Alec are watching porn together: “We both keep shifting, our jeans crackling, weird and hot to watch it together. More weird than hot, or the other way, I don’t know” (35). And I like the funny bits, too, like when Grisaille asks Cole if he has “a favorite German poet” and he replies, “Sorry, I thought you were kidding. Let me answer for everyone you will ever meet in this town, no, we don’t have favorite German poets. We have favorite dinners and beers” (54).

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