The Juvenile Homosexual Experience and its Effect on Adult Sexuality
by Robert Ollendorff, M. D.
Published by Julian Press
Published 1966
Nonfiction
Reviewed by p. e. britton
August 1966
The Juvenile Homosexual Experience and its Effect on Adult Sexuality falls short of its stated mark. Instead, it is another, and considerable, chunk of thoroughly educated imbecility that accomplishes a task regarding homosexuality, or regarding sexuality, adolescent or otherwise, that might be phrased thusly: Proving the moon is made of green cheese because it is manifestly observable the sun rotates around the earth.
Seldom does one encounter in this day and age a work of such bias, in which all fact is twisted and perverted out of shape and context to prove a thesis.
Do these brainwashed robots and savants of the establishment really believe they will—or ever can—accomplish their castrative purpose on all humanity? Surely, down deep inside of them there must glow, to shame them, a spark of truth. Then, again, perhaps not.
We have it implied and blatantly shouted in this tome over and over again at every turn, almost, one comes to feel, that homosexuality is the cause of every ill and misfortune that can befall mankind from b.o. to itchy feet, to ingrown toenails. But the author does gloss over this a bit by allowing that it isn’t the poor wretched homo’s fault but rather that of the nasty old society we live in. All the homosexual’s got to do is sit up straight, see the light, fly right, and just turn into a good little heterosexual! No more difficult than giving up a bad habit, like chomping on one’s nails or thumb-sucking.
To all the rest of the alphabet soup appended to this author’s name, I would add M.B.S. Master of Bull Shit. The only reason I can see that anyone would want to own this book is that it could he considered a collectors’ addition to the large field of fantasy fiction and oddities produced by the human intellect on this subject. It is a volume of absolute and total human blindness, prettily dressed in the humane robes of the physician’s office. But be not deceived! Although it may not breathe the fire of brimstone and witch hunt, it is a lovely bit of lambent viciousness surely on a par with such.
Besides, it cannot even be said to Dr. Ollendorff’s credit that his case histories are entertaining or serviceable as masturbatory material. And that is about as dull as you can get. So save your seven bucks.
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