Dear reader, before we begin my review, let me first explain to you how this book came into my life. I was browsing libro.fm's independent bookstore day sale (shout out to a real one) and saw this on the list of sale books. I looked at the cover, saw the tagline The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs, and went "huh, seems cool, I've been interested in reading niche nonfiction about random topics, let's do this one." I did not, in fact, realize what the point of this book was. (Foreshadowing because I do not think this book realizes the point of itself either).

All that said, I sat down to read this book a captive audience with a very long train ride to sit and listen while I watch the scenery. Partway through the book, I wondered "who tf wrote this" and that is how I learned that this is not niche nonfiction to learn about a topic, but rather a book by a comedian. Which, in hindsight, makes a lot of sense.

So. How did I feel after having the wrong expectations and adjusting my view of what this should be? Still confused. This book can't decide if it wants to be a food blogger travelogue, trivia history of hot dogs, commentary on capitalism and class, or a weird diary of how Loftus and her boyfriend broke up over a long road trip. I think that it's reasonable to combine all of these into one book, maybe minus the weird diary part, I just don't think that Loftus is the author to do it.

We start out fairly solidly, with some history of hot dogs and getting us to the present day, looking at how it made its way to the US and how hot dogs are made. Then, we jump into road trip and "Hot Dog Summer." If the book had kept going along the path we started out on, I would have enjoyed it more. It was a bit all over the place, but felt like it had direction and a story to tell.

Once we got beyond the beginning, I often felt whiplash from jumping from detailed hot dog descriptions to the sociopolitical issues surrounding the food/vendor/area to cramming in a bunch of history tangents. There wasn't a smooth segue between these subjects and it was particularly noticeable when Loftus would recount a horrific fact, then jump to a non sequitur, travel tidbits, history factoid, her boyfriend, whatever. I started taking notes at the end, but one example is how she described a white hot dog entrepreneur loving the hot dogs prepared by a nice Hispanic lady, who the community literally drove by and kicked dirt from their cars onto her (hence his mom coining the hot dogs "dirt dogs," which is how his business got its name), and then just ripping off what she'd done and getting famous for it. No time for processing this, we just speed right on into descriptions of the food and the declaration that they're delicious.

Loftus often does acknowledge and make clear her feelings about many of the sociopolitical issues that are intertwined with the history and current present of hot dogs. But it feels perfunctory, like she know it'll look bad if she doesn't frown obviously, so you know she's not like that.

Maybe it's that I wasn't expecting a travelogue, but this just didn't quite hit the mark for me. The humor was very hit and miss, but that's quite subjective and if you already like Loftus's work (this was my first intro to her), then you likely have a good idea of whether or not that works for you. That said, we get 2 stars because it was humorous just often enough, it made the hours on the train pass by, and the beginning was interesting enough.

Sometimes you have a hard time writing a review because you had so many thoughts along the journey that how can you possibly remember them all AND condense it into a single review? Add in that I read this over a couple of months and am trying not to write a novel for my reviews and I'm in a pickle.

Let's start with what's easy: this book is highly readable, weaving in interviews and personal stories along with the research and deep dives into societal structures, assumptions, and the intersection of asexuality with feminism, racism, and ableism. My minor gripe is that I, personally, didn't feel that I benefitted as much from the dive into the second part on ace intersectionality. It was great to get some nudges towards how asexuality intersects with gender, race, and disability, but the topics Chen explored are ones that I have done a lot of my own reading, researching, and thinking on. And so I got comparatively less out of that section. I think it's great to have it in the book, even if I had hoped for more personal stories.

Which brings me to where I think the book shines. The number of people Chen spoke with and the range of ace experiences was a gem. It's great to read about the ways in which people experience (or don't experience) desire, but it all feels a bit academic until we get to the people. The people are what made it all click: oh that's how it may look for someone. I love that these stories helped me understand the variety, breadth, and depth of the spectrum. What's in this book is by no means all encompassing, but it was a good start. It helped me along my path of changing the way I look at relationships, desire, and sex and for that I am eternally grateful.

I highly recommend this to anyone. Certainly if you're exploring your own sexuality and questioning the norms you've been taught. But it's really for everyone. There's so much to learn about your fellow humans and this pushes you to understanding and empathy to a wider variety of people. Plus there's the benefit of diving into how compulsory sexuality permeates almost every aspect of our society.

I'll end with a quote that sums up a lot of this for me: “It seems that the message is ‘we have liberated our sexuality, therefore we must now celebrate it and have as much sex as we want,’” says Jo, an ace policy worker in Australia. “Except ‘as much sex as we want’ is always lots of sex and not no sex, because then we are oppressed, or possibly repressed, and we’re either not being our true authentic selves, or we haven’t discovered this crucial side of ourselves that is our sexuality in relation to other people, or we haven’t grown up properly or awakened yet.”

this made me miss every single close female friend i've ever had. i love them so much and i love how those bonds were the highlight of the story. there's romance, certainly, but it's not the star of the show nor did i want it to be.

both our characters have their own lovely arcs, but astrid's had me in a chokehold. to have been raised knowing you were almost certainly going to die in a duel for resources your country desperately needs? to see the tenderness and care she embodies anyway? i swoon. it's right there in my profile - trying to love being soft in a hard world and astrid was a window to my soul. she could have been so bitter, resentful, and closed off but she opens herself anyway and cares fully.

that's all i've got in me after this: the surety of the love i have for my friends and the tenderness and vulnerability that it takes to get those soul deep friendships 🥹