The
Last Living Slut: Born in Iran Bred Backstage, by Roxana Shirazi, is the
outrageous, yet surprisingly moving memoir of a girl who fled the Iranian
Revolution and found her salvation in the deliriously sexy life of a groupie.
It is the memoir of a girl who was raised traditionally in Tehran but is led
far astray by the sound—and the sex appeal—of rock-n’-roll. Caught between her
sexual appetites, passion for music, lust for musicians, and fear of being a
bad seed (as she was brought up in a strict Islamic country), Shirazi bares her
soul to offer a raw account of her life as an eager-to-please rock groupie. 
The
book begins with Shirazi’s life in Tehran: her family, friends, and the
political turmoil of an Islamic country on the verge of civil war. Her younger
years were spent without a father, and with a mother that vehemently protested
the tyrannical government. Very early on in life, no more than five years old,
Shirazi began to explore her sexuality, something that most woman never even
contemplate, let alone carry out at five years of age. Her first act of
self-exploration happened when she thought about the soldiers that would march
through her neighbourhood and raid her house on a near daily basis: she dreamt
of being degraded and admired by them: “The spectacle of the SAVAK, who
terrified me, gave me a delicious dark thrill… it wasn’t supposed to.” (pg.
33) As a child, she would also flaunt herself to the neighbourhood boys and
bask in their total admiration of her. Of course, this confidence about her
body coupled with her total ignorance to the conduct of sex led her to some
rather unsavoury situations including older men taking advantage of her
pre-teen body. Disguising these incidents as karmic retribution for being a
‘bad seed’ she barely hints at the trauma caused by this abuse; but when it
comes to accounts of rock stars’ sexual proclivities, she doesn’t hold back.
When
she was forced to immigrate to England with her grandmother, escaping the
dictatorship rule of Iran and the abusive nature of her step-father, she was
made to acclimate in a foreign country where she was ostracized and bullied
because of her ethnicity. Coming from a world where family and community were
an integral part of everyday life and where Shirazi was used to being fawned
upon by men and boys alike, her first years in England were more than tough on
her. There was, however, a silver lining to it all. Although feeling completely
alone in English society she found a home in her books and school work and,
when one day at the age of thirteen she comes upon Axl Rose rocking out on MTV,
she comes (pun definitely intended) into her own and proceeds to build a life
that is filled with academics and ‘sexcapades’ with various bands all across
London and the world.
The rest of the book can be seen as a strung-out raunch fest. One thing that may leave you puzzling is that unless you knows the bands and members she's referencing, it can get confusing to tell them apart as they cycle in and out of view. But her recollections of her sexual encounters are very clear and entertaining to read, her voice a humorous and sometimes self-deprecating force that presents these rock gods with all the veneration (or sometimes unease) she was feeling at the time. Eventually, all the fun and games get interrupted by some emotional hiccups that include, most prominently, falling in love: which inevitably comes with getting her heart broken. Along with acknowledging that rock n' roll is not a place to harvest emotions of love and fondness, she also addresses the strain of her broken heart on her life: “I had to remind myself that I was here in a groupie capacity, not to have a fucking romantic time.” (pg. 152) It’s clear that her emotions get the better of her as her life becomes a downward spiral, years worth of pent up angst, anger, depression and confusion overtaking her. Overall, Roxana Shirazi's time in the limelight as the most infamous groupie is recounted with intimate, humorous, outrageous detail that can, at times, be a riotous and fun read or a gut wrenching, heart breaking tale of a woman who is more than she appears to be.
The rest of the book can be seen as a strung-out raunch fest. One thing that may leave you puzzling is that unless you knows the bands and members she's referencing, it can get confusing to tell them apart as they cycle in and out of view. But her recollections of her sexual encounters are very clear and entertaining to read, her voice a humorous and sometimes self-deprecating force that presents these rock gods with all the veneration (or sometimes unease) she was feeling at the time. Eventually, all the fun and games get interrupted by some emotional hiccups that include, most prominently, falling in love: which inevitably comes with getting her heart broken. Along with acknowledging that rock n' roll is not a place to harvest emotions of love and fondness, she also addresses the strain of her broken heart on her life: “I had to remind myself that I was here in a groupie capacity, not to have a fucking romantic time.” (pg. 152) It’s clear that her emotions get the better of her as her life becomes a downward spiral, years worth of pent up angst, anger, depression and confusion overtaking her. Overall, Roxana Shirazi's time in the limelight as the most infamous groupie is recounted with intimate, humorous, outrageous detail that can, at times, be a riotous and fun read or a gut wrenching, heart breaking tale of a woman who is more than she appears to be.
 | |
| Shirazi in the flesh |
Overall,
as a memoir of a life-less-ordinary, Shirazi offers something very unique.
Aghast readers may lose track of Shirazi's rock star conquests, but her
shocking sexual exploits are chronicled in such can't-look-away prose that it's
impossible to close this X-rated book until the last bad boy has been put to
bed. While the author's explicit descriptions of backstage orgies, threesomes,
and random hook-ups might make even the most world-wise readers blush, memoirs
like this are rarely written with such edgy prose: “I was hysterical because
I needed my vibrator to work properly.” (pg. 272) Even as she pursues a
Master's degree in English, Shirazi trysts with members, or hangers-on, of Guns
N' Roses, Mötley Crüe, and assorted has-beens of the ‘80s hair-band scene still
clinging to their former glory. However, when the author allows herself to fall
in love, her memoir takes a turn that proves disastrous in myriad ways, rubbing
much of the sexy veneer off of her shenanigans and showing her as she is: an
original soul with a need to be wanted and a want to belong. Ultimately, no
matter how readers judge her salacious life, no one can deny that she has a raw
talent with words: “From top to toe, I am fully covered in black Islamic
garb. But underneath I’m wearing no panties. Just in case.” (pg.
313)
My
final thoughts on The Last Living Slut are that it is an amazing recount
of a life not many people get to see, but because of this, it is not a memoir
for everyone. Shirazi writes honestly, provocatively, and vividly but the
squeamish will constantly be put off by her acts of depravity. For those who
can stomach what she has to say, The Last Living Slut is a moving memoir
of growing up in the political turbulence of Tehran; an unflinching portrayal
of teenage cultural dislocation in London; a backstage romp that makes Pamela
Des Barres's I'm with the Band read like a nun's diary; and a
white-knuckled tale of jilted love and brutal revenge.
No comments:
Post a Comment