I approached this book with some pretty high expectations – not all of them prurient. Though by no means an aficionado, I’ve had some familiarity with erotica and even a nodding acquaintance with its more disreputable elder sibling pornography. If anything, I was anticipating a good mixture of styles and approaches. And there is, indeed, some diversity. Hard core is somewhat under-represented; the most “in your face” writing coming from, of all people, Edith Wharton! There are certainly some quirky takes, the most hinky of which has got to be Carol Emshwiller’s “Sex and/or Mr. Morrison”. I guess, on the whole, I most enjoyed the tales with a little lighter touch: “An Old Fashioned Girl” by Joanna Russ, “Where the Bee Sucks” by Ann Oakley, and L.A. Hall’s “Harmonizing Polarities.” Perhaps not surprisingly, the most successful story (at least in terms of entertainment and titillation), is the oldest, and the only one told from the perspective of a man, “Violette”, by La Marquise de Mannoury d’Ectot. Frankly, however, the “erotic” element is a decidedly minor ingredient in far too many of these tales. Regrettably, a good number have a certain sameness about them: lack of profile, incident or personal style. Several are extracts from longer memoirs, and most of these have a certain impressionistic quality that, for me at least, inhibits much of a sense of involvement. Overall, I would identify a theme common to nearly all these tales: a woman (typically, but not always, young) venturing (usually in a somewhat passive way) into unknown territory as she explores the nature of her sexuality. Perhaps that’s the essence of erotic fiction: extending boundaries. But I was anticipating something with a bit more bite and tang, and was, with a few exceptions, disappointed. Not, sadly, unlike some of my own personal experiences. But, then, I'm from Mars. ( )