Sex was never really spoken about in my family. Drugs, alcohol, sexuality, and politics were all topics frequently and openly discussed across the dinner table. But sex, sex was the metaphorical 'elbows always off the table because we were children'. I remember once, my younger sister and I had a conversation in the kitchen about how she was worried about losing her virginity. I promised her that, although most of us will admit that our first attempt was something of an awkward fumble, with someone who we’re no longer that keen on, it really isn’t that bad. Most of the horror stories aren’t true and the guy should be nice about it. If he isn’t, do not, under any circumstances, sleep with him.

I considered this to be quite sage advice and was busy congratulating myself on my excellent and seamless portrayal of ‘The-Wise-Older-Sister’, when my mother emerged from the utility room to interrupt me: "Honestly Holly, why would you say that to her?! Now she’ll just run around and sleep with every boy she meets!"

"Ordeal is a book which I came to at an important age and which speaks about the timeless necessity of kindness"

I assume my face adopted some contorted expression of bemusement as I looked at my mother, a highly successful and intelligent woman; what was she trying to say? That young people are supposed to be afraid of sex? That sex is like being drunk and arguing about politics; once you’ve done it with one person in the pub, you think it’s acceptable to do it with everyone you meet? Partially due to my lack of response, but more probably due to her awkwardness, she turned to leave. At the door she paused, then turned back and said:

"Besides, how would you know? You’re still a virgin."

I was 19 at the time and I didn’t quite have the heart to tell her that, unfortunately, that train had left the station rather a long time ago. Sex was not something that really came up in our house, and if it did, it was swiftly squashed or politely (and very Britishly) ignored.  

With my parents pretending sex didn’t exist and having gained most of my sex-ed knowledge from episodes of Friends and riotous PSHE lessons (which usually featured blue dildos, chocolate flavoured condoms, general heckling and questionable government approved films about getting The Clap) it’s safe to say I was no Carrie Bradshaw. However, like everyone else, I learnt the ropes, and much to the relief of many, this is not about to be a catalogue of my sexual escapades or my attempt at an ‘Up-All-Night – Sexploration - I’ll-try-anything-once’ kind of article. No, instead what is going to follow is a book.

A few years post-PSHE, I contemplated an advance into the world of porn, something I’d never had much interest in. Being the type of person that I am, I didn’t quite end up on Pornhub, but somehow found myself on a Wikipedia page entitled ‘The Golden Age of Porn’, reading about the lives of famous 1970s pornstars.  This is how I found Linda Lovelace. This is how I became obsessed with Linda Boreman. This is why I ordered a copy of Ordeal.

Linda Lovelace was the stage name of Linda Boreman. Born in the Bronx, into an extremely Catholic family, Linda rebelled and had her first child at 20, which her mother forced her to give up for adoption. Shortly afterwards, she had a motorcycle accident and then met Chuck Traynor, her soon to be husband and captor. Linda became famous for her leading role in the 1972 hardcore film, Deep Throat. (Deep Throat is among the most lucrative films ever made, producing just under $600 million in profit, of which Linda received slightly over a thousand dollars.) Ironically, the limelight provided the perfect place for Chuck to hide Linda’s suffering and abuse.

Linda wrote Ordeal in 1980 and on the opening page she comments, "I haven’t been able to escape Linda Lovelace, but I have been able to make peace with her. I understand her and what happened to her. I’ve written this book so that others will also understand."

Ordeal was the most uncomfortable book I’ve ever read. It isn’t fiction, and yet you are presented with the most unimaginable account of events that, for it to be anything other than a story, seems devastating. The book documents Linda’s life, and I won’t say too much about the plot, only that it does feature multiple accounts of rape, physical abuse, death threats, humiliation and, at one point, sex with a dog.

While the book sounds like something that would entirely dissolve your faith in humanity - and undeniably, at times, it does come close - Ordeal is a book which I came to at an important age and which speaks about the timeless necessity of kindness. Ultimately, Boreman shares a hellish coming-of-age story which only becomes inspiring because she finds strength in herself. She does not wait for the world to save her; she does not let her drug addiction consume her; she does not allow her ordeal to embitter her. Instead, she decides she is her most valued possession. "One human being, misused and badly scarred but young and strong and anxious to live a life. Total value: still undetermined."

My parents did not speak to me about sex, but this meant that Linda Boreman got to speak to me about far more important things. Sex is something people can figure out for themselves, but self-worth is a valuable lesson to be taught